It was our post-graduation trip, right after the college entrance exams, when Isla proposed a game. “Let’s all look at these cards,” she said, her voice bright with a forced kind of innocence. “If we see the same number, we share a room.” She slid a few color-deficiency testing plates across the table. She handed them out to the others, leaving just one, which she held out in front of Noah and me. “What numbers do you two see?” I jumped in before he could answer. “Sixty-six.” I said it quickly, desperately hoping Noah would say the same. He knew I had red-green color deficiency. He knew my eyes painted a completely different world than his. But Noah barely glanced at the card. He ignored the quiet plea in my eyes and said, completely calm: “Eighty-eight.” A cold shock went through me. I stared at him, wondering if my ears were playing tricks on me. Isla laughed, a light, musical sound. “What a coincidence. I see eighty-eight, too.” But as the room keys were being handed out, I heard someone lean over and whisper to Noah: “Congrats, man. Three years of pining, and you finally got what you wanted.” The plastic keycard in my hand felt suddenly heavy, like a lead weight pressing down on my chest, cutting off my air. … The second the keys were distributed, Noah rushed over to grab Isla’s suitcase. He was so eager, so attentive. My mind flashed back to our journey here. When my own suitcase had felt too heavy to pull and I’d asked him for help, he’d shrugged me off. “I told you not to pack so much,” he’d said. “Maybe next time you’ll learn to leave the useless stuff behind.” But half the things in my suitcase weren’t even mine. They were his. My palm was still raw, the skin chafed and burning from the heavy handle of the luggage. Before we left, we had packed together. He had thrown his things into my bag without a second thought. “We’re staying together anyway. It’s easier if we just share a suitcase.” At the time, I’d felt a secret, stupid thrill, thinking Noah was finally ready to make our relationship public to his friends. But reality had just slapped me in the face. Isla pouted, looking over at me. “I’m so jealous of Lynn. She gets a whole king-size bed to herself.” She sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh well. I made the rules, so I’ll play by them.” I clenched my fists in my pockets. Aside from Noah, nobody knew about my color deficiency. And nobody knew that Noah and I had been dating in secret for a whole year. During the school year, we’d been terrified of teachers or parents finding out, so we acted like practical strangers in the hallways. It was only on the walk home, after we cleared the school gates, that he would reach out and slide his hand into mine. But looking at Isla, it was obvious she knew my secret. I walked to my room alone. A text from Noah lit up my phone: “It was just a game. Don’t overthink it.” “Nothing is going to happen between us.” “I’ll come by your room to grab my things later.” I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth, holding onto the last shred of hope. “When are you going to tell them about us?” It took him a long time to reply. “If they knew we were dating, they’d either make a big deal out of it or act weird. The trip just started, Lynn. I don’t want to make everyone uncomfortable.” I stared at the screen. I wanted to ask him: “Does being with me make you that uncomfortable?” As the coordinator of the trip, Isla posted in the group chat: “I ordered BBQ. Meet downstairs in an hour.” Noah’s best friend, Toby, replied with a sly emoji: “Ah, so Noah needs a whole hour, huh?” Isla’s voice note came through, sounding playfully annoyed: “Keep talking like that, Toby, and I’ll feed you charcoal!” The words I wanted to type got stuck in my throat. Swallowing them felt like swallowing broken glass. Isla was always the popular one. She was loud, lively, and knew how to take a joke. She was the one running the grill, her face flushed red by the heat of the coals, a bead of sweat dripping from her temple. Noah reached out and naturally wiped it away with a tissue. Toby let out a loud whistle. “Man, we always knew Noah had a secret muse he kept locked away. We just never knew who it was. Did Isla ever inspire you to paint her, Noah?” Noah gave a quiet, calm smile. “How did you know I painted her?” I was skewering meat, and the metal rod slipped, puncturing my index finger. I didn’t even feel the pain. My mind only spun back to the beginning of our relationship, when I’d asked him to paint me. Noah had been incredibly talented from a young age, especially with oils. I’d been so curious to see how I looked through his eyes. But he had rejected me without a second thought. “Oil paints are too complicated,” he’d said. “You can’t even tell the colors apart anyway. It’d be a waste of a painting.” We hadn’t spoken for a week after that. Eventually, he’d compromised and drew a simple charcoal sketch of my face. I’d treated it like a priceless treasure, framing it and hanging it right above my bed, where it still hung today. Isla laughed, a little boastfully. “Honestly, he gives me a new painting practically every month. I’m running out of wall space at home.” Noah smiled, his voice soft and tender. “Well, what do you expect? You’re my muse.” They laughed, and as they did, the sun dipped below the horizon, dragging my heart down into the dark along with it. I had always known Noah loved someone else before me. I knew he’d painted her. I just didn’t know how many times. I knew he had fallen into a deep depression when she started dating someone else. I just hadn’t known her name. And back then, since Noah and I weren’t official, I didn’t have the right to ask. I could only stay by his side while he grieved, the same way he’d stayed by mine when we were kids. Our relationship only started after his unrequited love had run its course. He had come to me and confessed. I had asked him to be sure: “Don’t you still love her?” To me, if love wasn’t pure, I’d rather we just remain friends. But Noah had looked me in the eye and said, “I realized I love you more.” After we got together, he really was good to me. He’d make me hot ginger tea when I had cramps, and he’d hold my hands to warm them up in the winter. We only ever had that one fight—about the painting. And we’d made up after he gave in. We loved each other in secret, hidden away from the world. Or maybe, it was just me who loved him. Isla finished cooking and naturally took the seat right next to Noah. Sitting there, they looked like a couple who had been together for years. “Lynn,” Isla asked casually, turning to me. “Which college are you planning to go to?” The exam results weren’t out yet, but my mind had been made up long ago. Ever since Noah’s artistic talent had become obvious, he had only ever had one goal: the Boston Academy of Fine Arts. And my goal was to be wherever he was. He had studied art since we were kids, and I had joined the weekend classes just to be near him. That was when I was diagnosed with color deficiency. Picking out the right shades from a paint box was as natural as breathing for Noah. For me, it was like drinking boiling water. I had been devastated after the diagnosis. But a young Noah, carrying his heavy easel on his back, had patted my shoulder. “It doesn’t matter if you can’t see the colors, Lynn. I’ll point them out to you, one by one.” Because of that single promise, I had stubborned my way through art classes, determined to keep up. Even if I couldn’t get in through an art portfolio, I was going to use my academic scores to apply for a non-art major at Boston Arts. I just wanted to be at the same school. Noah knew this better than anyone. But sitting here now, my stubbornness felt entirely pathetic. Noah looked uncomfortable. He shot me a warning glance, as if begging me not to answer Isla. So, I said, “I haven’t decided yet.” Noah seemed to let out a quiet sigh of relief. Then he frowned, looking slightly annoyed by my evasiveness. “Oh,” Isla said, then turned to Noah. “What about you?” Before Noah could answer, Toby cut in. “Is that even a question? Boston Arts, obviously. He has to go to the same school as you, Isla.” Isla was an art student, too. They were the ones who actually shared a passion. Noah nodded slowly. I sat next to them, feeling like a clown in a circus. After dinner, they started playing drinking games. Toby led the crowd, shouting and cheering, while Noah and Isla’s interactions grew increasingly intimate under the excuse of “just a game.” I made an excuse and slipped away, needing some air. A few minutes later, Noah found me. “They’re still playing,” he said, sounding perfectly normal. “I figured this is a good time to go to your room and grab my stuff.” I couldn’t understand how he could act so casual, so entitled. I looked at him. “What exactly is our relationship, Noah?” He blinked. “What?” “Why would your things be in my room?” Noah’s brow furrowed, his face darkening. “Lynn, what are you getting mad about now?” “I told you, it’s just a game. Why do you have to be so dramatic about everything?” So that was what my anger was to him. Drama. Pettiness. A hot surge of rage bubbled up in my chest. But before I could speak, he threw a question back at me. “And why did you tell them you haven’t decided on a college yet? Are you seriously telling me that because of a stupid game, you don’t want to go to the same school as me anymore?” I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “What about you?” I raised my voice. “You’re going to Boston Arts—but who are you really going there for?!” Noah flinched, quickly gesturing for me to quiet down. He scanned our surroundings, terrified someone might hear us. “Toby said that, not me,” he whispered sharply. “Look, let’s not do this right now.” “The application portal opens tomorrow. I promise you, I’m not going to Boston Arts for Isla.” “Don’t you know me at all? I’ve wanted to go to Boston Arts since I was a kid.” He explained, his voice frantic. But my stomach turned over, a wave of nausea hitting me so hard I felt like I was going to throw up. Suddenly, a cold clarity washed over me. I was going to tell him. I was going to tell him I wasn’t going to Boston Arts, that I wasn’t going to follow him anymore. I was going to break up with him. But before the words could leave my mouth, Isla walked around the corner. “There you two are,” she said, her eyes shifting between Noah and me. “What are you whispering about?” She smiled, a playful, knowing look on her face. “Don’t tell me you two are secretly dating?” I saw Noah’s hands clench into tight fists. He was terrified. “We’re not,” he said, his voice stiff and unnatural. “Just ran into each other.” Anyone with half a brain could tell he was lying. But Isla acted as if she didn’t notice. “Oh, okay. Well, we’re planning a night hike. We want to catch the sunrise at the peak.” She smiled, her eyes growing misty with nostalgia. “Remember when we first met at the studio? We stayed up all night working on our portfolios and watched the sunrise together.” “You told me the sunrise at the Berkshires was beautiful, and that you wanted to see it with me. We’ll see this one tonight, and the next one will be at the Berkshires, right?” It was practically a confession. And in that moment, I realized when Noah had fallen for her. I wanted to laugh at myself. Noah had probably forgotten. Back when he used to pull those all-night painting sessions, even before we started dating, he would keep me on a voice call the entire night. “Even if I just hear you breathing,” he’d told me, “it helps me focus.” He had made it sound like he loved me. So, Noah, when you were watching the sunrise with Isla and making promises about the Berkshires, did you ever think about the girl on the other end of the phone? Noah’s ears flushed red at her words. He stole a quick, guilty glance at me, then tried to cover it up. “I heard you were applying to Boston Arts back then, so I just wanted to be friends. We were going to be classmates anyway.” I didn’t want to hear another word. Isla asked Noah to go back to his room to grab her water bottle. Noah looked at me before he left, a silent plea in his eyes, as if begging me not to say anything stupid to her. I turned to leave as soon as he was out of sight, but Isla’s voice stopped me. “I know you two are dating.” I froze. “He always kept you on the phone when he was working late at the studio,” she said, stepping closer. “I was always curious what kind of girl could keep him so wrapped up.” She looked me up and down, her gaze cold and full of undisguised contempt. “But now that I’ve met you, you’re really nothing special.” She let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Though it makes sense. You’re colorblind. How could you ever have anything in common with him?” All this time, I’d wondered if Noah’s secrecy had just caused a misunderstanding. But now I saw the truth clearly. Isla knew everything. She had engineered every single moment. A dry, bitter laugh escaped my lips. “In a way,” I said, looking her dead in the eye, “you two really are a perfect match. A bitch and a dog, made for each other.” “Lynn! What the hell are you saying?!” Noah’s voice cut through the air behind me. His face was bright red, breathing heavily. He had only heard my last sentence. Isla’s eyes instantly welled with tears, her expression turning into one of pure, innocent vulnerability. “Noah… I didn’t know Lynn liked you. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have suggested the game. I didn’t mean to make her mad.” Noah panicked, waving his hands. “No, you have it wrong. We… we’re just neighbors. We aren’t that close.” “Just neighbors. We aren’t that close.” The words felt like a poisoned blade, plunging straight into my heart. So that was all the official girlfriend was in front of his crush. A neighbor he barely knew. Isla sniffled, a tear escaping her eye. “Even if she likes you, she didn’t have to say such horrible things.” Her fragile act immediately triggered Noah’s protective instincts. He stepped in front of her, shielding her from me, and glared at me like I was his worst enemy. “Don’t mind her,” he said coldly. “I don’t know what kind of episode she’s having tonight.” With that, he took Isla by the arm and walked away. Before they disappeared around the corner, Isla looked back over her shoulder. Her chin was tilted up, her eyes flashing with the smug triumph of a victor. I didn’t go on the night hike. Later that night, Noah sent me a text: “Now everyone thinks you’re antisocial. How am I supposed to tell them you’re my girlfriend when you act like this?” Did it even matter anymore? Everyone on this trip already assumed he and Isla were together. I typed back: “Isn’t Isla your girlfriend?” The girl he had loved for three years. His muse. Noah replied, clearly thinking I was just throwing a tantrum: “Let’s talk when you’ve calmed down. What you said to Isla was completely uncalled for. She’s been miserable the whole hike.” I didn’t reply. I stayed in my hotel room, tossing and turning in the dark. By the time the sky turned a pale, washed-out gray, I realized the college application portal was open. But my mind was entirely blank. I didn’t know where to go. My entire life, my entire future, had been wrapped up in Noah for so long that I didn’t know who I was without him. Suddenly, Toby posted a photo in the group chat. It looked like a candid shot. In the photo, the golden rays of the rising sun washed over Noah and Isla. Isla was leaning up, pressing a kiss against Noah’s cheek. Noah’s body was completely rigid, frozen in the moment. And just like that, it was over. The sunrise was their beginning. And my end. I remembered how, back in middle school, I had been obsessed with cherry blossoms. Because of my color deficiency, my world was devoid of bright, saturated tones. Nature always looked like an old, faded photograph to me—hazy and muted. But that haziness made the soft pink of cherry blossoms look like something out of a dream. Back then, I’d read about a university in the South where the campus was covered in cherry blossoms every spring. But back then, Noah had been more important than the blossoms. Now, it took me exactly ten minutes to look up the majors at that university. And then, I submitted my application. I didn’t want to go to Boston anymore. There were no cherry blossoms there. Before Noah and the others returned from the hike, I packed my bags. I dragged Noah’s clothes out of my suitcase and dumped them on the hotel bed. The suitcase felt incredibly light without his things. I bought a train ticket home. I didn’t tell him we were over. There was no point. From now on, we would be worlds apart. Our love had been nothing more than a childish game.
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