January brings ice and reality in equal measure.
Grandma Rosa comes home from the hospital on New Year's Day. She's better but not the same. Her left side is weaker. Her speech sometimes slurs when she's tired. She needs help with things she used to do without thinking.
I take on more shifts at the library to help pay for her medications. Cut back on sleep to keep my grades up. Stop eating lunch to save money. Aurelio notices—of course he notices—and tries to help.
"Let me pay for the medications," he says one afternoon in his apartment.
"No."
"Cassia, it's nothing to me. My family has more money than we could spend in ten lifetimes. Let me help."
"I said no."
We're standing in his kitchen. He's making coffee. I'm building walls.
"Why won't you let me in?" His voice is frustrated. "Why won't you let me help you?"
"Because the second I start depending on your money, I become exactly what your mother thinks I am. The poor girl using her son."
"That's not—"
"Isn't it? She's already convinced I'm after your family's money. If you start paying for my grandmother's medical bills, she'll be right."
He slams the coffee mug down. "I don't care what my mother thinks!"
"But I do! Because I'm the one who has to live with everyone thinking I'm only with you for what you can give me!"
The fight escalates. Words said that can't be taken back. By the time I leave, we're both angry and hurt and exhausted.
We make up three days later. But something has shifted. Some crack has formed that we both pretend isn't there.
***
Second week of January, my cousin Silas gets arrested.
He's twenty-three, just out of prison for dealing, staying with us because Grandma Rosa never gives up on family. I told her it was a bad idea. She said everyone deserves a second chance.
The police raid happens at six AM. Battering ram. SWAT team. The whole production. They find half a kilo of cocaine in his bedroom. Arrest him. Put it on the news.
*Drug Bust in Roxbury. Suspect connected to local family.*
By noon, it's everywhere. By three PM, someone has connected the dots. Someone always connects the dots.
*North End Restaurant Heir's Girlfriend's Family Tied to Drug Arrest.*
My phone explodes with notifications. Messages from people I barely know. Screenshots of news articles. Questions I don't have answers to.
Poet calls: "Cass, are you okay?"
Aurelio calls: "I'm coming over."
Unknown numbers call: "Is it true your family is involved in drug trafficking?"
I turn my phone off. Sit in the apartment that suddenly feels too small. Too exposed. Too everything.
***
Aurelio shows up anyway. Lets himself in with the key I gave him.
I'm on the couch, staring at nothing. Grandma Rosa is in her room, door closed. She hasn't come out since the police left.
He sits next to me. Doesn't speak. Just sits.
"You should go," I finally say.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Your mother is going to lose her mind when she finds out."
"Probably."
"Your father—"
"Will handle my mother. Cassia, look at me."
I do. His eyes are steady. Sure.
"I don't care about Silas. I don't care about the arrest. I care about you. Are you okay?"
"No."
"Okay. Then I'm staying."
He stays all night. Sleeps on our lumpy couch. Makes breakfast in the morning even though our kitchen is nothing like his gleaming apartment. Acts like this is normal. Like his world and mine aren't actively colliding in the worst possible way.
But when he checks his phone at eight AM, his face goes pale.
"What?" I ask.
He shows me. Twenty-seven missed calls from his mother. Fifteen from his father. Thirty-two texts ranging from concerned to furious.
The last one from his mother: *Come home immediately. We need to discuss this situation with that girl's family. This is unacceptable.*
"I have to go," he says quietly. "Talk to them. Try to fix this."
"There's nothing to fix. My cousin is a dealer. That's the truth."
"But you're not. Your grandmother isn't. That's the truth too."
He kisses my forehead. Leaves.
I don't hear from him for six hours.
***
When he finally calls, his voice is strained.
"My parents want me to take a break from seeing you."
Four words that stop my heart.
"What did you say?"
"I told them no. That I'm eighteen in two months and they can't control who I date. That I love you and nothing changes that."
Relief floods through me. "And?"
"And my mother said if I don't stop seeing you, she's cutting off my college fund. My apartment. Everything."
The relief evaporates. "Aurelio—"
"I don't care. I'll take out loans. I'll work. I'll figure it out."
"You can't throw away your entire future because of me."
"You are my future!"
His voice cracks. In the background, I hear Vivienne saying something sharp in French. Dominic's deeper voice trying to mediate.
"I have to go," Aurelio says. "They're—this is bad. But Cassia, I mean it. Nothing changes between us. Okay?"
"Okay," I lie.
Because I can already feel him slipping away.
***
The next two weeks are torture.
We still see each other at school. Still sit together at lunch. Still hold hands in the hallway.
But something's different. He's distracted. Stressed. His phone is constantly ringing with calls from his parents. He's losing weight. Not sleeping.
Sterling starts appearing more. Sitting with him at lunch when I'm working. Offering to help with homework. Being there in all the small ways I can't be anymore because I'm working double shifts and taking care of Grandma Rosa and drowning.
"She's just a friend," Aurelio insists when I bring it up.
"Your ex-girlfriend who your mother loves is just a friend."
"Yes."
"And you don't see how that looks? How convenient it is that she's suddenly around all the time?"
"Cassia, you're being paranoid."
"Am I? Or am I being realistic about what happens when rich boys date scholarship girls and reality gets messy?"
We fight. Make up. Fight again. The cycle is exhausting.
***
Valentine's Day, everything implodes.
I'm working at the library, shelving books in the poetry section. Our section. The place where everything started.
My phone buzzes. A text from a number I don't recognize.
*Thought you should see this.*
Below it, a photo.
Aurelio and Sterling. At some restaurant I've never been to because I could never afford it. Sitting close. His hand near hers on the table. Both of them smiling.
The photo is from thirty minutes ago.
My hands shake. I text Aurelio: *Where are you?*
Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.
*Studying with Marcus. Why?*
Another text comes from the unknown number: *He's been seeing her for weeks. Everyone knows. Thought you should too.*
I stare at the photo. At the way Sterling is looking at him. At the way he's not pulling away.
Maybe he's not cheating. Maybe it really is just dinner with an old friend. Maybe the photo is perfectly innocent.
But the lie isn't innocent.
He said he was with Marcus.
He's with Sterling.
***
I don't confront him. Don't call. Don't answer when he tries to reach me after he realizes I've seen something.
Instead, I go to his apartment. Let myself in with the key he gave me.
Sit on his couch in the dark and wait.
He comes home at ten. Flips on the light. Jumps when he sees me.
"Jesus, Cassia. You scared me. What are you—"
I hold up my phone. Show him the photo.
All the blood drains from his face.
"That's not—it's not what it looks like."
"Then what is it?"
"Sterling texted me. Said she needed to talk. About her parents. About—it doesn't matter. She needed a friend."
"And you lied to me about it."
Silence. Heavy and damning.
"I knew you'd be upset," he finally says. "I knew you'd jump to conclusions—"
"So instead of being honest, you lied. Made me feel crazy for being worried. Made me feel like I was imagining things."
"Cassia—"
"How long?" My voice is eerily calm. "How long have you been seeing her behind my back?"
"I'm not seeing her! We're friends! We've been friends since we were kids! I'm allowed to have dinner with a friend!"
"Not when you lie to your girlfriend about it! Not when it's your ex-girlfriend! Not when your entire family wishes you were still with her!"
He runs his hands through his hair. Paces. Looks at me with something close to desperation.
"What do you want from me? I'm trying to navigate an impossible situation. My parents hate you. Your family is imploding. We're from completely different worlds and pretending we're not isn't working!"
The words hang in the air between us.
Finally. The truth.
"So that's it?" I whisper. "You're finally admitting your mother was right. That this can't work."
"I didn't say that—"
"You just did."
I stand up. Take off the compass necklace he gave me Christmas. Set it on the coffee table.
"Cassia, wait. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'm stressed and my parents are threatening to cut me off and I'm trying to hold everything together—"
"Then stop. Stop holding it together. Stop trying to make this work when it clearly doesn't."
"It does work! We work!"
"Do we? Because from where I'm standing, you're lying to me to avoid conflict with Sterling. You're barely speaking to your family because of me. You're throwing away your future because I'm not who they want for you."
Tears are streaming down my face now.
"Maybe your mother was right from the beginning. Maybe we're too different. Maybe this was always going to end this way."
"Don't do this," he begs. "Please. Don't walk away because things got hard."
"I'm not walking away because things got hard. I'm walking away because you lied to me. Because you're keeping Sterling as a backup plan. Because deep down, you know this can't work and you're too much of a coward to admit it."
The word hits him like a slap. "I'm not a coward."
"Then tell me right now: If your mother said you could have your college fund, your apartment, your future—all of it—but only if you broke up with me, what would you choose?"
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.
The silence is my answer.
"That's what I thought," I say.
I walk to the door.
"Cassia—"
"Goodbye, Aurelio."
"Don't. Please. Don't end it like this."
I turn back one last time. Look at the boy I love. The boy who isn't brave enough to choose me when it costs him something.
"You already ended it," I say. "When you lied. When you made me feel crazy. When you decided Sterling was worth the risk and I wasn't."
I leave before he can respond.
Walk out into the February cold.
Count steps all the way to the bus stop.
Eight hundred forty-seven.
The number doesn't calm me.
Nothing can calm the way my heart is shattering.
Because I just walked away from the boy I love.
And this time, I'm not sure either of us can come back from it.