1 We were called The Three Primary Colors at the Fine Arts Academy, always together. Before class, we went to the art supply store. My boyfriend always reached for the top shelf first and took two sets of canvases. One for himself, one for my best friend Sandy. Then he would glance back and tell me to hurry because class was about to start. He ran his fingers through Sandy’s hair and sighed. What would you do without me? She pouted and told him not to underestimate her. They laughed and walked to the counter together while I had to call a clerk for my canvas. By the time I paid, they were already gone. Sandy texted that they were running late and had saved me a seat. I hurried to the lecture hall and found them settled in. Sandy waved me over and pointed to a seat several rows away. They were sitting together in matching outfits. I swallowed my words and sat down quietly. Watching them from a distance, I felt a wave of exhaustion. In our trio, I was the one who did not belong. … When class ended, I packed my sketchpad and walked out without saying a word. Marc noticed and quickly caught up with me. “We only ran ahead because we were running late, Nora. You can’t seriously be angry over something so trivial.” I turned around, ready to confront him. Before I could speak, Sandy caught up and threw her arm casually over Marc’s shoulder. “What are you guys gossiping about? Let’s go! If we don’t hurry, the special glazed meatballs at the cafeteria will be completely sold out!” Marc’s attention instantly shifted to her. He let her pull him along, his steps falling in line with hers. She called back over her shoulder, “Nora! Keep up! We’ll grab a table first!” Once again, they left me staring at their retreating backs. The words died in my throat. Even when we weren’t in a rush, they would still leave me behind. I followed the crowd to the cafeteria. Out of habit, I was about to order the spicy dishes they both loved. The words caught in my throat. Biting my lip, I did something I had not done in years: I ordered a tray of entirely mild, bland food. Just as I was about to find a quiet corner to sit by myself, a hand gripped my wrist. I turned to see Marc, his forehead creased with annoyance. “I told you to come sit with us. Sandy is waiting. Where do you think you’re going?” I stared at him, then quietly pulled my hand out of his grasp. “I can’t keep up,” I said. My voice was flat, but my fingers clenched around the edge of my tray until my knuckles turned white. “What?” Marc was taken aback. He was not used to me showing any resistance. “I said, I can’t keep up.” My voice rose, trembling slightly. “No matter the rush, she pulls you away and you just run off. Neither of you ever waits for me.” My throat felt tight, and I could feel tears stinging the corners of my eyes. Marc’s expression softened, but before he could speak, Sandy wrapped her arm around my waist, laughing. “Oh, stop it, Nora! It’s my fault, okay? I just wanted to get us a table quickly so you wouldn’t have to carry that heavy tray around. I didn’t realize my good intentions would upset you so much.” “Look at our poor Nora, so dramatic she won’t even sit with us.” With a few light words, she turned my genuine hurt into a childish tantrum. Marc’s face instantly hardened. “Seriously, Nora? Sandy went out of her way to be considerate, and this is how you act?” “She wanted to get a table quickly so you could eat early because of your stomach issues. Unbelievable. You really don’t appreciate anything.” “Don’t eat then!” He grabbed Sandy’s hand to walk away, but she pulled back. “How can you talk to Nora like that?” She scolded him, then turned to me with a gentle, placating smile. “Come on, Nora, it’s just a silly misunderstanding. Let’s go eat. I’ve been waiting for those spicy wings you always get me.” She froze as her eyes fell on my tray, staring at the plain, unseasoned food. Her expression shifted to one of feigned hurt. Marc sneered, pulling her away again. “You’re still defending her? She clearly doesn’t care about you at all.” “Let’s go.” Sandy let herself be pulled away, casting one last lingering look at me without saying another word. Once again, I was left standing alone in the middle of the crowded cafeteria. I looked down at my tray, feeling incredibly lost. Was it really a crime to want a meal that wouldn’t make me sick? My chronic stomach issues were the result of saving her life. Back in high school, Sandy was the biological daughter of a wealthy family, switched at birth. The fake heiress, Sienna, used her deep family ties to marginalize Sandy. At a party, Sienna and her wealthy friends pinned Sandy down to force alcohol down her throat. I stepped in to stop them, but they didn’t care who I was. They held me down instead, forcing the liquor into my system. If my parents hadn’t arrived in time, the severe allergic reaction would have killed me. That night left me with severe gastritis. I could not stand the smell of spicy food without feeling physically ill. Sandy was consumed by guilt, and she spent the rest of our high school years taking care of me. Later, when I met Marc at an art exhibition and we started dating, he became my protector. He and Sandy used to bicker constantly over me. Marc despised Sandy for what had happened to my health. I was always the mediator, often taking Sandy’s side to keep the peace. Marc used to warn me, “Keep your guard up, Nora. Don’t let people walk all over you.” I had ignored him, happy to have both of them in my life. Until one day, Marc and I rescued Sandy from another cruel prank by Sienna. She was drenched, shivering, looking up at us with tear-filled eyes. That was the first time Marc didn’t snap at her. Instead, he wrapped his own jacket around her shoulders. From that day on, Marc stopped arguing with her. He became her protector too. Eventually, he started caring for her more than he did for me. He brought her everywhere, even on our anniversary dates. I had always rationalized it, thinking he simply pitied her background. But now, I was no longer sure. I ate my bland food in silence, glancing occasionally in their direction. Marc was coaxing Sandy to eat her vegetables, teasing her gently. I let out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh, stood up, and went straight back to the dorm. On the way, I called my mother. “Mom, I’ve made up my mind. I’m not staying here after graduation. I want to go abroad for my master’s degree.” My mother was silent for a moment before asking softly, “What about the art gallery you were planning to open with Marc and Sandy?” “I don’t think that’s happening anymore,” I replied. I could not imagine living my future squeezed between the two of them. Being the third wheel was simply too exhausting. My mother didn’t press for details. She told me she would pick me up in three days and reminded me to submit my paperwork to the dean. I agreed to everything. After hanging up, I leaned against my desk, feeling a heavy weight lift from my shoulders. With graduation around the corner, our roommates had already moved out for internships. Only Sandy and I remained in the dorm. Because I had promised to bring her into the gallery, she had no career worries, which only made her bolder in her interactions with Marc. I walked over to her desk and picked up a small plaster sculpture. It was a matching pair with the one on Marc’s desk. I remembered the day at the workshop when they had both grabbed the matching pair. There was no third piece in that set. Sandy had claimed that since they sat next to each other, it was easier for them to paint it together, effectively pushing me to the opposite side of the table. When we left, the clerk had packed them in one bag, smiling. “You two make such a cute couple. Your color choices complement each other perfectly.” Marc had smiled, and Sandy had laughed it off, saying, “We’re art students, color theory is second nature to us.” They had let the misunderstanding slide. I had clutched my empty hands, unable to bring myself to scream that I was his girlfriend. Later, they had apologized profusely. Because I valued our bond, I had let it go. How incredibly foolish I had been. “Nora, why did you leave without saying anything? Marc and I were looking everywhere for you!” The dorm door swung open, and Sandy walked in. Seeing me standing by her desk holding the plaster sculpture, her smile widened. “Careful with that, Nora,” she said, walking over to me. “That’s a matching pair with Marc’s. If it breaks, he’ll be absolutely devastated.” She took the sculpture from my hand and placed it back on her desk. I stared at her, my voice cold. “Is being a homewrecker something you’re proud of, Sandy?” She giggled, looking at me with amusement. “Homewrecker? Who is the intruder here, Nora? The third wheel is the one who doesn’t belong. So, tell me, who is the extra piece?” “Me? Marc?” She shook her head, a mocking glint in her eyes. “No. It’s you.” The anger that had been simmering inside me for months finally boiled over. I raised my hand and slapped her across the face. The force of the blow knocked her to the floor. She clutched her burning cheek, her eyes instantly filling with tears as she looked up at me. “Nora, how could you?” “I told you nothing was going on between Marc and me. Why won’t you believe us?” “You always call me an intruder, just like Sienna did at home…” I let out a harsh laugh. Right on cue, Marc appeared at the door. His face fell, and he immediately rushed over to pull Sandy into his arms, shielding her. “Nora! Have you lost your mind? I told you, Sandy and I are just friends! When are you going to stop being so paranoid?” He gently wiped her tears, his eyes full of worry. The sight of his tenderness toward her stung like a physical blow. “Do you blindly trust her, Marc? You don’t even ask what happened before deciding I’m the one in the wrong?” Seeing my eyes redden, Marc’s expression softened for a fraction of a second. But Sandy quickly cut in. “Nora, I promised I wouldn’t tell the professor about you forcing me to paint your graduation projects. Why are you still treating me like this?” My eyes widened in disbelief. “What did you say?” She was shamelessly twisting the truth. I was the one who had painted her projects. “Don’t push me, Nora! I didn’t want to say anything, but you’re leaving me no choice!” Sandy cried, her voice cracking with emotion. Marc’s gaze turned to pure disgust. “Since when did you become such a bully, Nora?” “I didn’t—” “Since you’re going to treat me like this, I have to report you to the department head,” Sandy said, showing her phone. She had a draft message open to the professor. My heart raced. I could not let her ruin my academic reputation right before I went abroad. If she reported me first, my brushstrokes were identical because I had painted her piece. I lunged forward to grab the phone. Marc shoved me back violently. I crashed into the desk. A glass mug shattered, and my right hand landed directly on the broken shards. Blood welled up instantly. “Are you trying to ruin me?” I gasped, cradling my bleeding hand. Marc froze, his hand dropping as he stared at me in silence. Sandy quickly added, “Marc, even if Nora wanted to hurt me, you shouldn’t have pushed her. But honestly, if her hand is ruined, how is she going to finish her projects? We’re about to graduate…” It sounded like she was worried, but she was just twisting the knife. Marc’s expression hardened again. “She tried to attack you! You’re too soft, Sandy. That’s why people walk all over you.” “What would you do without me?” Sandy played along. “Maybe… maybe I won’t tell the professor. We’re still supposed to open the gallery together, right?” Marc scoffs. “Art is sacred. If she cheated, she deserves the consequences. I’m going with you to the dean’s office.” He took her hand. I stood up, using my left hand to support myself. “Marc.” He stopped. “Is this your choice? You’re choosing Sandy?” He looks back, his eyes full of disappointment. “You’ve gone too far this time, Nora. I’m going to help Sandy settle this. You need to calm down. We shouldn’t see each other for a while.” They walked out hand-in-hand. I let out a cold laugh. “We won’t ever see each other again, Marc.” I sent him a final text: We’re over, Marc. And I’m out of the gallery. Then, I blocked his number. Meanwhile, Marc was comforting Sandy outside the dean’s office when his phone buzzed. He looked down, and his eyes widened in absolute shock. “What… how is this possible?!”
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