Finally, we were done with high school. Graduation had just passed a few days ago — a blur of caps in the air and loud cheers echoing through the school hall. My classmates were ecstatic, already dreaming of university life and freedom. And then there was me.
It had been two months since I made my feelings for Austin public. Two months since the unexpected rejection that left a sting no one else could quite understand. We were still... "cool," if that meant waving awkwardly at each other from across the hallway and pretending nothing ever happened.
Lily and Zoey, my anchors, had done everything to help me forget the humiliation. And honestly, it worked — at least for a while. But soon, I sank back into my quiet shell. Everyone noticed it — Lily, Zoey, even the teachers. But most of all, Austin, who, after our chemistry project, distanced himself completely.
My friends were livid. How could he pull away after everything?
But that wasn't the breaking point.
Three weeks after the confession, I arrived late to school one morning. The hallway buzzed with noise. I pushed through the crowd, eyes searching for Lily and Zoey. They stood frozen, mesmerized by something ahead. I followed their gaze — and then the air left my lungs.
Austin was kissing Stephanie.
It felt like someone reached into my chest and pulled something loose. The world didn't spin. It didn't crash. It just… stopped.
When the kiss ended, Stephanie came toward me with that cruel, sugary smile she always wore when she meant trouble.
"Oh," she said, "so sorry you didn't get him. But don't worry — I'll enjoy him for you."
Then she turned and walked away like she hadn't just lit a match to everything I'd been trying to hold together.
Lily and Zoey whispered comforts I couldn't hear. I told them we'd be late for class and just walked.
The whispers followed me through the hallway. Laughter. Cruel jokes. I didn't react. I didn't flinch. I just focused on walking forward.
In literature class, I arrived late — again. Austin was seated. I moved to take my usual seat, but he stood and spoke.
"I'd like to change seats," he said.
The teacher paused. "Why?"
"To avoid distractions."
Distractions.
I felt a flicker of heat in my chest, but I said nothing.
The teacher changed his seat, and I buried myself in the only thing that ever made sense — books. That day, I read Twelfth Night. The irony wasn't lost on me.
I subbed, crying, thinking when did I start believing in love
No
When did I confuse a fling, a crush, an obsession with love.
I made a promise to myself that day — one I held onto with everything I had:
Never again. No more feelings. No more falling.
I would do well in my study, graduate from high school and go to the best university and focus on myself.
And then — the present.
Graduation day arrived. I wasn't going to attend, but Lily, Zoey, and the teachers insisted.
The ceremony was beautiful. Laughter, photos, tearful hugs.
Lily won Best in Math. Zoey got Best Female in Sports. And to my surprise, I was awarded Best in Literature. It should've made me smile. Instead, I just clapped politely and went home early.
That night, I applied to different universities — Harvard, Yale, Princeton. Even Stanford.
By morning, I had responses from almost all. I chose Stanford.
Dad was proud. He told me to follow my path, so I did.
October came, and so did the next chapter of my life.
Zoey went off to Ohio State. Lily got into Harvard to study Law.
We were all happy for each other. But everything felt like it was shifting — like the universe had started writing a new story for me.
And on my first day at Stanford, just as I wheeled my suitcase into the dorm lobby, trying not to look like I was holding back a nervous breakdown — he appeared.