Chapter3

Vanessa dropped her business textbook onto the desk with a heavy thud, the impact jerking my pen and dragging a harsh streak of black ink across my scratch paper.

She sank into the chair across from me, massaging her temples with both hands.

"The investors pulled out. Just like that," her voice came muffled through her palms. "Ethan’s been up for four days straight. When we talked on the phone last night, his voice was completely gone."

My fingers tightened around the barrel of my pen. One was the boy who had saved my life; the other was my fiercely loyal roommate. And he was her boyfriend.

"It’ll be okay," I offered, my voice hollow. "He’s smart. I'm sure he’ll find another way."

Vanessa lowered her hands and studied me for a moment. Her gaze dropped to my collarline, lingered, and then lifted again—like she wanted to say something but swallowed it back.

"Yeah, well," she sighed. "He’s just so stubborn. Always has to carry everything on his own."

She picked absently at a chipped edge of red polish on her thumb, her voice dropping. "A couple of nights ago, he was still tweaking his business plan in the middle of the night. I woke up and saw him passed out at his desk, his laptop still glaring. I mean, what’s the point? Why run himself into the ground like this?"

I didn’t say anything. Even though she and Ethan were in different majors, she practically lived at his dorm. Ethan’s roommates were totally used to her by now, so it made sense she knew exactly what was going on over there.

"I’m just terrified he’s going to break." She looked up, meeting my eyes. "You know, if someone could just throw him a lifeline... but he’s too proud. He’d never ask for help."

Her gaze slid slowly across my face. My fingernails dug deeply into the plastic grooves of my pen.

"I need some air." She grabbed her purse from the corner of the desk. When she reached the door, she gripped the strap and paused, glancing back over her shoulder. "Oh, by the way—Maya."

"Hmm?"

"That day in the club rush plaza, you couldn't take your eyes off Ethan." She gave a small smile. "I actually thought you were into him. But it makes sense. When he talks about his startup, he does kind of light up. Don't tell me my pitch actually sold you on his project?"

My throat suddenly felt tight. Her tone was light, joking, but her eyes lingered on my face just a fraction of a second too long. I wasn't sure if I was just overthinking it.

"...No."

"Good." She waved a dismissive hand, and the door clicked shut behind her.

I sat paralyzed in my chair, my nails still digging into the pen, unable to tell if the tightness in my chest was shame or guilt. I reached for my phone on the desk. The screen was still on.

The photo was right there. Vanessa had sent it to me on rush day with the caption, "Handsome, right?" I had never deleted it. In the picture, Ethan was turned to the side, talking to someone. His collar was hanging open just enough to reveal a sliver of a metal chain, the jagged edge of its broken pendant catching the sunlight.

I stared at it for two seconds. Then I placed the phone face-down on the desk.

A moment later, I picked it right back up. I looked at the picture one more time.

A bizarre scenario flashed in my head: What if I walked right up to Vanessa and said, 'Your boyfriend is the kid who saved my life all those years ago'? What expression would be on her face? I thought about it for three seconds, but couldn't picture it. Because I knew I would never actually say the words aloud.

I flipped the phone back over, pressing the screen flat against the wood.

Two hours later, I fled the dorm and barricaded myself in the farthest corner of the Law Library. Bookshelves boxed me in on three sides, leaving only a single empty chair across the table. I buried my face in my folded arms, my phone resting face-down beside me.

What are you thinking? Maya, has your brain completely short-circuited?

A teardrop hit the desktop. A soft tap. Then another. I brought a hand up to blindly swipe at my face, my fingers coming away wet. But the more I wiped, the more they fell.

Clack.

Someone across from me snapped a laptop shut. The second I jolted my head up, a pocket pack of tissues slid across the desk, bumping into the edge of my phone.

Sitting in the chair across from me was Ethan’s roommate—the Computer Science freak. Leo. Thick black frames, wearing a washed-out hoodie zipped halfway up. I hadn’t even noticed when he’d sat down.

"Thanks."

"You crying over him?" he asked, his voice low and even.

I froze, the unopened pack of tissues clenched tightly in my fist.

"The guy in the blue jacket," he added, as if afraid I didn't know who he meant. "Ethan."

"...What business is it of yours?"

"It’s not." He leaned back in his chair, shifting his gaze from my face to the bookshelves beside us. His tone was perfectly flat. "I’ve lived in the same room as the guy for six months. I have a pretty decent idea of whether or not he’s worth someone’s tears."

I had no idea how he knew I was crying over Ethan, but the phrase 'whether or not he's worth' caught me entirely off guard.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said." He stood up, slinging his heavy backpack over his shoulder. "He isn't who you think he is. You crying your eyes out over it—does he even know?"

I didn't answer. My fingernails bit into my palms.

"Didn't think so," he said, reading my expression easily. "Think it through before you shed tears. Some people just aren't worth it."

With that, he walked away, rounding the corner of the bookshelves and disappearing from sight.

I sat glued to my seat. Nothing he said was particularly aggressive, but the words clung to my brain, impossible to shake off. He isn't who you think he is. Some people just aren't worth it.

It wasn't unusual for roommates to hate each other and throw out petty insults. But his tone felt far too grounded. It didn't sound like a guy venting frustration; it sounded like a guy stating a calculated fact.

I looked down at my collar. The broken half of the chain rested right over my collarbone. For thirteen years, I had held onto this half like a lifeline, desperately clinging to the boy who held the other.

I took a deep, shaky breath and flipped my phone back over. The second I tapped the screen, a new WeChat notification popped up.

It was from Vanessa:

"Maya, Ethan’s investors just sent a termination letter. He has to cough up fifty thousand dollars in penalty fees by Friday, or he isn’t just getting kicked out of school—he’s looking at a lawsuit. He’s completely gone numb. I’m losing my mind here. You don’t think... he's going to be ruined just like this, do you?"

I stared at the glowing block of text. After a moment of heavy hesitation, I typed out a brief reply and hit send: "I'll figure something out."

Down the hall, Vanessa stared at that exact line of text popping up on her screen. She finished reading, locked her phone, and knocked softly on the partially opened door beside her.

The door widened just a crack. A hand reached out from the shadows—a dark blue cuff, the taut, defined lines of a forearm—curling around her waist and hauling her inside.

The second she crossed the threshold, the man leaned down and kissed her. His jaw brushed against her temple, and the metal chain dangling at the side of his neck swung gently in the dim light.