Abigail - Love, Family and Friendship

Unravelling Threads

The Second Poem

Dear Diary,

Tomorrow is my birthday. I don’t want to bore you with exactly how I feel—you already know how confused I am. And now, as if life wasn’t complicated enough, I have a secret admirer.

I honestly don’t know how to feel anymore. Excited? Flattered? Terrified? Maybe all three.

And the worst part? I keep wondering who this mysterious admirer could be. I hate being placed in this kind of position. What if it’s not someone I like? What if it’s someone I’ve barely noticed? Or worse—someone playing a cruel joke? I sincerely hate Suprises

Anyway, I guess I’ll find out soon enough. Or maybe I won’t. Life loves to keep me guessing, doesn’t it?

-Abigail

Abigail closed the journal with a sigh, running her fingers over its worn blue cover. She tucked it under her pillow, as if hiding her thoughts would make them less real. Tomorrow was supposed to be a celebration, but the thought of everything—her birthday, her doubts, her secret admirer—made it hard to breathe.

The next morning, she approached her locker with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Part of her wanted to find another note. Another part of her wished for a normal, uneventful day.

But normal wasn’t in the cards.

As she opened her locker, her eyes immediately landed on the folded paper nestled against her textbooks. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest.

Another poem.

With trembling fingers, she pulled it out, her breath catching as she unfolded it. The handwriting was unmistakable—elegant, deliberate. Her eyes scanned the words, her chest tightening with every line.

“On the eve of your day, beneath skies of blue,

I think of the gift the world has in you.

A heart so brave, yet so unsure,

A beauty within, both quiet and pure.

Tomorrow, you shine, as you always do,

But not just for them—for those who see you.

And though I may remain unknown,

My admiration is yours alone.

Mystery Lover”

Abigail stared at the words, her thoughts a whirlwind. It was beautiful, haunting even. But it also felt... invasive. Whoever this “Mystery Lover” was, they saw her—really saw her. And that scared her as much as it thrilled her.

She folded the note carefully and slipped it into her pocket, her fingers lingering on the paper. For a moment, she let herself imagine it was Ethan who had written it. But the thought brought no answers, only more questions.

Whoever Mystery Lover was, they weren’t just playing a game.

They knew her.

Abigail’s fingers brushed the note in her pocket as she walked into the music room, her thoughts racing. She couldn’t shake the idea that Jane might be behind this. It would explain how the writer seemed to know so much about her—Jane knew her better than anyone.

Jane was seated at the piano, her fingers idly playing a soft melody. She looked up and grinned when she saw Abigail. “Hey, birthday girl!”

Abigail didn’t return the smile. Instead, she dropped her bag onto the floor and crossed her arms.

Jane tilted her head, her grin faltering. “What’s with the face? Did I forget something? Oh no, don’t tell me I missed choir practice again.”

Abigail pulled the note out of her pocket and held it up. “What is this, Jane?”

Jane blinked, clearly confused. “Um... a piece of paper?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Abigail said, her voice sharper than she intended. “Did you write this?”

Jane stood and walked over, taking the note from Abigail’s hand. As her eyes skimmed the words, her confusion turned to amusement. “Wait, you think I wrote this?”

Abigail folded her arms tighter. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time you pulled a prank on me. And who else would know about my Favorite colour or how I feel about my birthday? You’re the only one I talk to about that stuff.”

Jane’s laughter rang out, light and incredulous. “Abby, I love you, but poetry? Really? If I wrote this, it’d be full of bad rhymes and probably something about how much you hate gym class.”

Abigail frowned, her suspicion wavering. “So, you’re saying you didn’t write it?”

Jane handed the note back to her, shaking her head. “I swear on every bad prom dress in existence, this isn’t me. But... whoever wrote it? They’re good. Like, seriously. This is some professional-level swooning right here.”

Abigail sank into a chair, letting the note rest on the table in front of her. “Then who could it be? I don’t like this, Jane. It’s weird.”

Jane sat across from her, resting her chin on her hand. “Okay, let’s think about this logically. Someone obviously knows you well enough to get the details right. Do you think it could be a teacher? Maybe Mr. Carter? He’s always quoting poetry. And pointing you out during history class”

“Ew, Jane! No!” Abigail groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Jane laughed, holding up her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. Not Mr. Carter. So, what about Tyler?”

“I taught so at first, but he isn’t romantic enough to pull it off” Abigail muttered.

“I think It could still be him,” Jane said. “Think about it—he’s probably trying to win you over after you rejected him for prom. He loves being the centre of attention, and what’s more dramatic than secret poetry?”

Abigail shook her head. “It doesn’t feel like him. Tyler isn’t exactly subtle, and he’s never shown any interest in poetry.”

Jane tapped her fingers against the table thoughtfully. “Okay, fair. What about Ethan?”

Abigail’s stomach flipped at the mention of his name. “Why would it be Ethan?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Jane smirked. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because he looks at you like you’re the only girl in the room? You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

Abigail’s face heated. “He does not.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” Jane leaned back, crossing her arms. “But honestly, this Mystery Lover thing is kind of exciting. It’s like living in one of those romance novels you’re always reading.”

“It doesn’t feel exciting,” Abigail said quietly. “It feels... overwhelming. Like they see more of me than I want anyone to see.”

Jane’s expression softened. She reached across the table and squeezed Abigail’s hand. “I get it, Abby. But maybe it’s not such a bad thing. Maybe whoever this is, they’re trying to show you that you’re more than you think you are.”

Abigail looked down at the note, the words blurring as her thoughts swirled. “I just don’t know what to do.”

Jane smiled gently. “Here’s what we’re going to do: nothing. If they want to stay mysterious, let them. If they’re serious, they’ll show themselves eventually. In the meantime, you’ve got a birthday to celebrate, and I’ve got something amazing planned for you.”

Abigail raised an eyebrow. “Do I want to know what you’ve planned?”

“Nope.” Jane stood, grabbing her bag with a grin. “But trust me, it’s going to be great. Now, let’s get to class before the bell rings and ruins your mystery-solving mood.”

As they walked out of the music room, Abigail felt a flicker of relief. Jane was right—if this Mystery Lover was serious, they’d reveal themselves eventually. For now, she had a birthday to survive.

But deep down, the questions lingered. Who was Mystery Lover? And what did they really want?

As the school day dragged on, Abigail couldn’t shake Jane’s suggestion that Tyler might be the Mystery Lover. It made a twisted sort of sense. Tyler loved attention, and what better way to make her notice him than with flowery words and a mysterious allure?

She hated how the thought gnawed at her. The only way to be sure was to ask him outright.

Abigail spotted Tyler near the lockers between classes, leaning against the wall with his usual crowd. He was in the middle of an exaggerated story, his voice carrying above the noise of the hallway.

Gathering her courage, Abigail walked up to him, her heart pounding. Tyler noticed her approach and straightened, his trademark smirk creeping onto his face. “Well, well. To what do I owe the Honor, Princess Abigail?”

The smugness in his tone made her falter, but she pressed on. “I need to ask you something.”

“Oh, this sounds serious,” Tyler said, raising an eyebrow. His friends snickered behind him.

Abigail glanced around, suddenly hyper-aware of the onlookers. Her cheeks burned, but she couldn’t back out now. “Did you... did you leave something in my locker?”

Tyler’s smirk widened. “Your locker? Can’t say I did, but now I’m curious. What’d you find? A love letter? A secret admirer?”

The laughter from his friends grew louder, and Abigail’s stomach twisted. She hadn’t even mentioned the poem, but Tyler had jumped straight to it. Did that mean he was the one?

“Just answer the question,” she said, her voice firmer now.

Tyler folded his arms, leaning closer. “Let me guess: you think I’ve been pining after you, pouring my heart out in cheesy rhymes?”

Abigail’s heart sank. She could hear the mocking edge in his voice.

“Well?” Tyler pressed, his grin turning sharp. “You must think the whole school is in love with you. Newsflash, Abigail: not everything revolves around you.”

Abigail’s breath caught in her throat. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. The humiliation was suffocating.

“I get it, though,” Tyler continued, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “You’re used to everyone falling at your feet. Must be tough when someone doesn’t.”

The crowd’s laughter felt like it was echoing in her ears. Unable to take any more, Abigail turned and walked away as quickly as she could, her vision blurring with unshed tears.

She didn’t stop until she was in the empty music room, the familiar scent of polished wood and sheet music wrapping around her like a fragile shield. Sitting down at the piano bench, she pulled the poem from her pocket and stared at it.

How had she let herself think it might be Tyler? How had she let him get under her skin like that?

The words on the page felt heavier now, more complicated. Whoever had written this saw a version of her that didn’t exist in Tyler’s world. They saw someone worth noticing—not for her looks or popularity, but for something deeper.

Jane found her there a few minutes later, still clutching the note. “Abby? Are you okay?”

Abigail shook her head, blinking back tears. “It wasn’t him.”

Jane sat down beside her, her expression softening. “Tyler?”

“Yeah,” Abigail said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought... I thought maybe it was him, but I was wrong. He made me feel so stupid, Jane.”

Jane reached out, squeezing her shoulder. “He’s an i***t. Don’t let him get to you.”

“I just don’t understand,” Abigail said, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “Why would someone do this? Why would they leave these poems and then hide? What’s the point?”

Jane took the poem from her hand, studying it with a thoughtful expression. “Maybe they’re scared,” she said after a moment. “Maybe they’re afraid you’ll reject them. Or maybe they just like the mystery of it all.”

Abigail sighed, leaning her elbows on the piano. “I don’t know if I can handle this, Jane. It’s like... they see this version of me that I don’t even see in myself. What if I can’t live up to it?”

Jane gave her a lopsided smile. “Abby, you’re overthinking this. Whoever this is, they’re obviously into you for a reason. And Tyler? Forget him. He doesn’t deserve a second thought.”

Abigail nodded, though the knot in her chest didn’t loosen. “Thanks, Jane.”

“Anytime,” Jane said, standing up and brushing off her skirt. “Now, enough about Mystery Lover and Tyler the Terrible. Let’s focus on something more important—your birthday is still tomorrow o. You’re still coming to my mom’s place after school, right?”

Abigail managed a small smile. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Good.” Jane grinned, her usual spark returning. “Because I’ve got a surprise planned, and it’s going to blow your mind.”