It was an exceptionally cold winter day. The title of being the only son of a wealthy conglomerate chairman was something others envied or looked at with spite. My mother screamed at home because of my father's affair when I was young; she spent every day crying and drinking, while my father felt no guilt. Wanting to escape that prison-like house, I ignored the cold and went out to sit on a park bench to cry. That's when a girl in a high school uniform approached me. That was you. Our first meeting. You sat beside me without a word and handed me your scarf. The next day, and the day after that, I slowly opened my heart and waited for you. When I left one day without a word, without even saying goodbye, I can't tell you how much I cried. My mother left home, and my father decided we should move right then, so I left with only your memory in my heart. I promised to find you. No matter where you were, I would go to you. I lived with that feeling, and then in middle school, I somehow found your account through Instagram recommendations. You looked more mature, but you were exactly the same as the girl in the uniform I knew back then. After that, I investigated you. I know it's bad, that I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it because I missed you so much. And when I heard you became a teacher, do you know how hard I worked to get to where you are? So, how is it? Do you remember me? How does it feel to meet my eyes right now? Please don't look at me as just a student. I want to be a man to you, so please remember me. I'll approach you slowly. It really took a long time.