I woke to the gray light sliding between the blinds of Alice's tiny flat. The city was already alive. Horns honked. Tires hissed across wet asphalt. Somewhere down the street, a subway screeched. I pressed my face to the cool glass and tried to breathe through the ache in my chest.
Lena's words repeated in my head like a stubborn echo. I need you in my life.
I wanted to pull away, to untangle myself from everything that hurt. But the truth was simple: I couldn't. Every part of me was still caught in her orbit, and there was no easy way out.
Outside, yellow cabs darted past skyscrapers while billboards screamed for attention. Black cars glided along the avenues like they owned them. I lived in this city now, but it didn't feel like mine. Not yet.
I rubbed my temples and reminded myself of the promise I'd made. I'd stay. Even if it hurt. Even if it broke me. Whatever she needed, I'd be there.
Trying to shake off the heaviness, I wandered to the kitchen. A note sat on the counter in Alice's messy handwriting: Breakfast is your test. Don't fail me again.
The first day I couldn't find the right ingredients needed to make a decent breakfast in her kitchen. As a result, what I made wasn't much different from what Alice usually cooked. Last evening I went for grossory shopping, so now I was better prepared for this challenge.
I pulled out the ingredients: eggs, toast, a few vegetables from the corner store, and got to work. Cooking had always been my little self therapy, my one bit of order when life turned chaotic. I cracked the eggs, whisked them, and tossed the vegetables into a sizzling pan. The aroma filled the flat, mixing with the faint hum of traffic below.
When Alice came back, she froze in the doorway, eyebrows raised.
"Whoa," she said. "Smells like a five-star restaurant in here. You cooked this?"
"Yeah," I said, trying to sound casual.
She grabbed a fork and took a bite straight from the pan. Her eyes went wide.
"This is unreal. I haven't had anything this good since I left home. Ash, you're dangerous with a frying pan."
I grinned, feeling some of the tension fade.
She winked. "You know, I might have to marry you just to get this every morning."
I shook my head, laughing. "Try not to scare the neighbors. They might call the cops on you for excessive enthusiasm."
Alice laughed, but the weight of yesterday's conversation still hung in the air. Even in the kitchen, with the sound of sizzling eggs and laughter between us.
I took a bite, the food suddenly tasteless. "Hey, Alice," I said quietly. "Could you help me with something?"
She looked up. "Depends. Do you need me to write your essays, bake you cookies, or save your life from first-year drama?"
"I need a part-time job," I said. "Something small. Rent, food, you know how it is."
She tilted her head, smiling like she already had the answer. "You worry too much. I know people. Cafés, bookstores, a few side gigs. I'll introduce you around after class."
"Really?"
"Really. You survive New York by knowing the right people. Lucky for you, I know plenty."
I smiled, a flicker of relief breaking through the haze. "Thanks, Alice. I mean it."
She waved it off. "Don't thank me yet. Just promise you won't run away after getting the job. I want to enjoy your cooking for a long time."
After she left, I cleaned the pan in silence. I told myself I was just making breakfast, but part of me knew better. No matter how far I walked, no matter how many streets or kitchens I stood in, I was still following Lena.
And that bond wasn't something I could ever break.
⟡ ✧ ⟡
The autumn sun hit the campus just right, turning the glass towers into mirrors of gold and blue. Students strolled by, sipping overpriced lattes and comparing new tech gadgets like they were badges of honor. Everyone seemed to belong here… except me.
I shuffled past designer backpacks, perfectly pressed coats, and earbuds. My thrifted jacket itched against my skin, and my worn sneakers squeaked on the pavement. I tried to focus on class, on notes, on anything that wasn't the nagging ache of inadequacy.
I was halfway across the courtyard when I saw Samuel Blake. Calm, poised, effortlessly perfect, like he belonged to a world I didn't even know existed. People gravitated toward him, laughing at his jokes, hanging on his every gesture. And there I was, with a heart still aching from seeing Lena with him, and a backpack full of books.
He noticed me. Smiled. That smile wasn't warm. It was calculated, polished, designed to make everyone believe he was untouchable.
"Hey, you're Ash, right?" he said, voice smooth, controlled.
I nodded, unsure if I should keep walking or stop.
"I've heard a lot about you," he continued, eyes briefly meeting mine before glancing at Lena who has her head buried in a book, too lost to notice anything around her. That was quite unlike her. "Lena's told me you've been her best friend since childhood. That's… impressive. She speaks so highly of you."
A pang shot through me. She hadn't mentioned us being together, had she kept that from him? My stomach tightened.
"Since you're her friend, I'd love to be yours too," he added casually. "I mean, we're all here to look out for each other, right? Can't have anyone hurting someone close to Lena."
I paused, unsure how to respond. His tone was friendly, even protective, but I found it more like subtle manipulation. He framed himself as the ally, the protector of Lena's world, while quietly reminding me that I was now on the outside.
"Come sit with us," he said, motioning toward his group of impeccably dressed friends. "Don't mind them, they've got nothing on you."
His friends murmured apologies, smiles forced and polite. "Sorry about earlier, man," one said. "We didn't mean—"
"I know," I said, keeping my voice calm. Their apologies didn't erase the shoves, the whispers, the sharp eyes measuring me.
Samuel leaned back, casually resting his arm on the table. "Nice jacket," he said, smooth as ever. "Very… vintage. Suits the scholar vibe." His gaze flicked to Lena, then back to me.
I forced a laugh. Lena smiled faintly but looked down at her book. I noticed her hesitation, just for a moment. Did she tell him we had been… more than friends? Or had she hidden it to protect me?
Samuel's subtle digs continued. "Scholarship, right? So you must be great at something. Literature?" He said it like praise, but it didn't feel like one.
I held my composure, forcing myself to stay. Samuel wasn't just charming, he was deliberate, calculated. He knew exactly how to make Lena look radiant while quietly reminding me of my place. Or, am I judging him too much just because Lena choose him over me?