Emotional Story Diary

Sometimes, preserving a beautiful fantasy is more worth cherishing than facing an established reality…

My childhood was spent in a small town in Southern California. In fourth grade, an angelic girl named Nina transferred to my class. We walked to and from school together every day. I was a mischievous boy, but with Nina, I was shy.

In sixth grade, on Valentine’s Day, my friends and I exchanged cards, but for some reason, I didn’t prepare one for Nina. On the way home, Nina became very silent. Just before we parted ways, she took out a pink envelope from her backpack and handed it to me before crossing the street.

I couldn’t wait to get back to my room and carefully opened the envelope with a knife. Inside was a handmade card with a cute bear on the cover, surrounded by shiny stars and red hearts. Inside, “I love you” was spelled out in light blue glue, adorned with colorful glitter. I stared at it for a good half hour before hiding it in my drawer.

That evening, my brother Mike found the card. He was ecstatic as if he had discovered a new continent and shared the news with everyone. Nina and I were thrust into an awkward situation and started walking on opposite sides of the street.

A week later, my father got a job transfer, and we had to move to Alaska. At the farewell party my class threw for me, I stared at Nina all night, and she looked at me with tearful eyes.

On the car ride home, Nina sat beside me, holding my hand tightly the whole way. After getting off the car and walking to my building, Nina turned around, tears at the corner of her mouth. Seeing her sad eyes, I tried to control my inner turmoil. “Nina,” I said, holding her cold little hand, “Take care!”

Nina stood on her tiptoes and kissed me deeply on the cheek, then crossed the street in tears. That’s how we parted, and 30 years passed. Her petite figure lingered in my mind all these years. On Valentine’s Day of 20xx, while flying for a business trip, a thought jumped out from the clouds: Should I go find Nina? I knew it wasn’t a whim. I was determined to find her no matter where fate had taken her.

I called old elementary school friends but found nothing. Later, my lawyer suggested seeking help from a “Searching” company. Less than an hour after calling them, I received Nina’s address and phone number. To my surprise, Nina had also moved to Alaska and lived in the same city as me.

Should I really go see her? I gently asked myself. Would the sacred memory deep in my heart be disappointed by reality? But if I stopped now, the rest of my life would feel like teetering on a cliff, never at ease.

I didn’t call Nina. Only through writing could I express myself thoroughly without panicking.

“Dear Nina,” I finally began, “I hope you haven’t forgotten me…” I spent nearly an entire afternoon writing the letter and handed it to the courier.

The next evening, the phone rang abruptly.

“Of course, I remember.”

It was Nina’s voice! No matter how much it had changed, I could recognize it instantly.

“Nina?!”

“You had a snow-white Husky, very tall and large, but I wasn’t afraid of it at all.”

“Yes.”

“You always wore that gray Crant jacket to school every day, even when you were sweating.”

“That’s right! Absolutely.”

“You made funny faces at the bus stop to cheer me up because I had a lot of ugly pimples on my face.”

I certainly remembered practicing those funny faces countless times beforehand.

We talked for over an hour, laughing hard when recalling Mike’s teasing. Suddenly, there was silence on Nina’s end, and tears ran down my smiling face. Later, she happily talked about her job, husband, and two kids, and I praised my wife. We finally agreed to meet that Saturday afternoon.

“Are you Mr. Thompson?” a waiter asked as I sat at the reserved table. I nodded.

“Miss Nina just called to say she’s delayed by an hour due to some issues and asks for your patience.”

To me, this was good news. These past few days, my insides had felt like they were in knots, and I could use the hour to relax.

I walked out of the restaurant, strolling down the street, pondering the reason for Nina’s delay. The weather was cool, and the occasional breeze soothed my nerves. Suddenly, a flash of realization struck me—why was I so eager to satisfy a selfish fantasy with an established reality? I told myself, now that I knew so much about Nina, wasn’t it better to preserve a beautiful fantasy than face a certain reality?

Across the street, I found a stationery store and bought some paper, blue glue, and colorful glitter. Sitting on a step, I wrote:

“Nina, I believe we would have had a wonderful evening. But I have to give up this impending beautiful moment. I sincerely want to say thank you, Nina, for the Valentine’s card you gave me so long ago. You gave a boy his first true Valentine’s Day. That card is a gift incomparable to all the beautiful gifts in the world combined. Nina, I will always think of you, the first girl to give me a Valentine’s card. I wish you happiness!

Love, Chuck”

I used glue to write Nina’s name on the envelope and sprinkled it with glitter, waiting for it to dry slowly.

Returning to the restaurant, I left a meaningful kiss on the envelope—this was my kiss back to Nina after 30 years. With a heart filled with tenderness, I left the envelope on the table and gently walked out the door.

Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “