Love Notes on Pink Paper

The story

Ren had spent three nights rewriting his confession letter until his hand cramped. Mio had done the same, her desk covered in crumpled drafts. They met by the cherry tree at sunset, both clutching identical pink envelopes, too nervous to speak. A sudden gust of wind snatched the letters from their hands, swirling them together in the air like dancing petals. As they chased the papers, their hands brushed, then clasped. Laughing breathlessly, they realized they had written almost the exact same words. Ren looked at Mio, her cheeks pinker than the envelopes, and finally whispered that maybe they should just skip the letters and start talking instead.