Shawn Donovan was the man I had secretly loved for as long as I could remember. When I was younger, I often visited the Donovans to help my foster mother with housework. During those times, when hunger gnawed at my stomach, I would watch Leta indulge in her snacks with a mix of longing and envy. It was Shawn who would often come over and invite me to join him. But I was too shy to accept, especially with Leta looking down on me, her disdainful gaze making me feel dirty and unworthy. Every time Leta was done scolding me, Shawn would steeped in, making me feel better,
“You don’t have to feel inferior. Everyone is equal in this world. Don’t let her words gets you,” he said softly.
From that day on, I developed a terrible crush on him. He became the greatest source of light; the star brightened my darkest days. His smile was warm like a fresh honey cake, golden and glistening from the bakery oven. But I was always a coward. I never had the courage to tell him how I felt and I was forced to be content with admiring him from a distance.