Chapter 1 Four years into our long-distance relationship, I was on a video call with my girlfriend when her study partner, Chase, leaned into the camera frame. He pressed his lips together. “Hey, Tyler. Brooke hasn’t finished her practice set for today.” I froze for a second, the words Just give us ten minutes dying on my tongue. Before I could speak, he chimed in again. “Oh, by the way, those entertainment gossip links you sent earlier today—I went ahead and filtered them out for her. The second she looks at her phone, her focus completely shatters, and her study efficiency drops by half.” A faint smile touched his lips. “You don’t mind me stepping in, do you?” Brooke kept her head down, flipping through her prep book without a word of protest. A hollow ache settled in my chest. I thought back to the photos of sunsets, the hole-in-the-wall diners, the new console I’d bought—all the things I had shared with her that she never answered. They hadn’t been ignored. They had been cleaned out. A heavy tightness gripped my ribs, suffocating and dull. Brooke finally looked up at the screen. “Chase organizing my notifications is actually a good thing.” Chase leaned in closer to the webcam, his voice dropping low. “Word is you barely cracked an 1100 on your SATs back in high school, but Brooke scored in the 1500s…” He paused, as if deliberately searching for gentler words. “She always says she wants to end up in the same city as you for grad school. But your grades are so far behind hers—she’d literally have to settle and drag herself down just to meet you.” Having said his piece, he stepped back beside Brooke and gave her shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Keep pushing. I’m right here with you.” Brooke nodded at him, her expression soft and completely natural—the casual ease of two people who had grown entirely accustomed to standing side by side. My throat tightened, as though a thin wire were slowly choking the air out of me. “Get some rest, then,” I managed to say, clinging to the last shred of my dignity before hanging up. My phone screen remained lit, showing the last text I had sent her: It’s raining today. Remember to grab a jacket. Beside it, no reply. Just like the past four years. She had never been absent from her own life. She had only been absent from mine. I closed FaceTime, my fingers trembling as I scrolled through our chat history. Line after line, it was an endless monologue. I sent her evening skies, the takeout I’d picked up, the stray ginger cat lounging on the sidewalk outside my dorm. Her replies were few and far between. A dry k after several hours. A lukewarm sounds good two days later. Most of the time, just a thumbs-up emoji. I closed the thread and pulled up her profile. Her cover photo had changed. It used to be a selfie of the two of us on New Year’s Eve. Now, it was a snapshot from an academic awards banquet. Chase stood right beside her, their shoulders tipped toward each other, looking like the picture-perfect power couple. A sudden sting burned behind my eyes. I blinked hard to force the tears back, but one slipped down my cheek anyway. Just as I went to lock my phone, a banner notification popped up from Chase. Tyler, man, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I think it’s time someone told you. If you really care about Brooke, stop spamming her with every little thought that crosses your mind. She studies past midnight every single day. Every time her phone buzzes, she can’t help checking it, and then it takes her ten minutes just to get back into the zone. Sending her pictures of stray cats and your dinner… it serves zero purpose. She doesn’t want to reply, but she feels guilty ignoring you, so she spends mental energy agonizing over it. Do you have any idea how draining that is for her? Her target grad program has an insanely high cutoff, and you’re so far behind. How many all-nighters does she have to pull to bridge that gap? You claim you’re doing this for her own good, but which part of what you do is actually helping her? I stared at the screen, every word lodging into my chest like a needle. I typed out a response, deleted it, and in the end only sent back one sentence: Does she… know you’re sending this to me? His reply came instantly. Of course she does. She told me you keep sending irrelevant nonsense, but she was too nice to say it to your face because she didn’t want to bruise your ego. She asked me to relay it. I stared at the words She asked me to relay it, my throat closing up completely. A second text followed immediately: Oh, and she told me to tell you—don’t call during study hours from now on. If it’s urgent, text. She’ll see it, but she won’t necessarily reply. Try to be understanding. Possessed by a reckless impulse, I clicked onto Chase’s public feed. His latest post was from yesterday: a photo inside a bustling hot pot restaurant. Brooke was sitting across from him, using her chopsticks to drop food into his bowl. The caption read: Weekend fuel with the top student. I scrolled down. Last week, it was a hiking trail, the two of them flashing peace signs at the summit. Further back, under blooming cherry blossoms, inside a late-night study lounge, at a newly opened arcade—she was in every single photo. The same Brooke who constantly told me, I don’t have time, and I’m swamped with studying. She didn’t lack time. She was simply giving it all to someone else. The reason I had called her tonight was to tell her that I’d been granted early admission to the graduate program in her city. I wouldn’t have to wait for her replies across a screen anymore. Now, those words remained lodged in my throat, aching like a blunt blade. I typed out three words and hit send. Let’s break up. Chapter 2 The next morning, I unlocked my phone. Inside my chat with Brooke, the words Let’s break up hung quietly at the bottom of the screen. No response. Just like every message I had sent over the past four years, it had vanished into an abyss. I stared at the screen and let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh. She couldn’t even be bothered to reply to a breakup. Just as I went to set the phone down, a notification pinged in our campus athletic group chat. It was the roster for the upcoming intercollegiate women’s basketball tournament, and my eyes immediately caught Brooke’s name on East State’s team. Chase was listed right beside her as part of their traveling staff. My roommate leaned over my shoulder, taking a look before whistling. “Those two are East State’s golden couple. Live in the library together. Even the professors say they’re made for each other.” He pulled up a screenshot of Chase’s post. “Look at that. One’s ranked first in the department, the other’s second. Double the honors.” I swallowed down the acidity rising in my throat and forced a nod. Beneath the desk, my fingernails dug deep into my palms. From that day on, I deliberately avoided the campus rec center, the courts, and every path where I might cross paths with the visiting teams. Yet right outside the academic advisor’s office, I walked straight into her. Brooke had gotten thinner, her expression calm and composed as she cradled a stack of paperwork. When she saw me, her steps faltered, followed by a slight smile. “Tyler? It’s been a while. Let’s grab dinner.” My first instinct was to decline. But a breakup of four years wasn’t something to brush under the rug; it deserved to be stated clearly to her face. So I nodded. The moment the gesture registered, Chase casually stepped up beside her, flashing me an easy smile. “Tyler’s here too? Perfect. Let’s all go together.” He tilted his head toward Brooke. “Picked a spot yet?” Brooke shook her head, and Chase immediately turned back to me. “Why don’t you pick, man? It’s not every day we all get together.” I tossed out the name of a spicy Szechuan place right outside the campus gate. Chase frowned. “Her stomach’s been acting up lately. The doctor told her strictly no spicy food. Don’t you know that?” I pressed my lips together and suggested a light dim sum teahouse instead. Chase shook his head again. “Too greasy. Last time she ate there, she had acid reflux half the night.” He paused, letting out a soft, exasperated chuckle. “Tyler, how do you not even know what she can and can’t eat?” I threw out four or five different places. For every single one, Chase found a reason to shoot it down on Brooke’s behalf. Too far. Too loud. Questionable hygiene. The wait would take forever. Finally, he gave a resigned sigh, as if making a gracious concession. “Forget it, I’ll pick. Neither of you can be trusted to handle this.” Brooke smiled softly, her voice warm. “Thanks, Chase.” Chase rolled his eyes at her, half-teasing. “I’m literally playing the middleman here. You owe me big time for this meal. Make sure you thank me properly later.” The two of them bantered back and forth. I stood on the sidewalk beside them, watching Brooke’s laughing profile as she looked at Chase. A fist seemed to squeeze around my heart, suffocating the air from my lungs. Four years of long distance. I had thought it was merely miles separating us. As it turned out, the distance was so vast that I had been completely phased out of her life. The words Let’s break up sat trapped in my throat, and suddenly, saying them aloud felt entirely redundant. When we sat down, Chase took the menu. He pointed to a scrambled egg dish with shrimp, noting that Brooke was watching her calories and needed it light on oil. He pointed to steamed greens, reminding the server she needed something gentle on her stomach. Then he ordered a slow-simmered soup, turning to smile at Brooke. “You said you loved this soup last time. I remembered.” Brooke nodded, chiming in naturally, “Do you want to add the salt-and-pepper ribs you like?” Back and forth they went. I sat across from them like a stranger sharing a communal table. Chase suddenly slid the menu across to me. “Tyler, order something you like.” Just as I parted my lips, Brooke spoke first. “He doesn’t eat spicy food. Get him…” She froze. Her finger hovered over the laminated page, her brows slightly furrowed. After an awkward beat, she pointed to two dishes, her voice vague. “Get him this, and this.” I looked down at the items she had selected. Sautéed celtuce. Cold-tossed wood ear mushrooms. A bitter sting rushed up my throat. Those were dishes I had never touched in my life. I was violently allergic to mushrooms, and celtuce caused hives to break out all over my skin. She had forgotten entirely. Chase reached over and gave the back of Brooke’s head a playful pat, laughing. “Did you study your brain into mush? Those are my favorites!” Brooke blinked, momentarily stunned. Then, avoiding my gaze, she nudged the menu an inch closer to my side. “Just order whatever you want.” I shook my head and pushed my chair back. “No need. I have somewhere to be tonight. I’ll get going.” Before turning to leave, I paused, looking down at her. “Check your messages when you get a chance.” She gave an indifferent hum. “Chase filters them for me. If it’s important, he’ll remind me to reply.” I let out a faint laugh, the corners of my mouth pulling tight until it hurt. It turned out I didn’t even meet the threshold of important. In that case, there was no point waiting for an answer. I turned around and pushed open the restaurant door. The evening wind rushed against my face, perfectly cold. Chapter 3 The following afternoon, my roommate dragged me out to the court to keep an eye on his younger sister, Sadie. She was a freshman playing in her first collegiate invitational, and her nerves were so bad her hands were shaking. I bought an assortment of water and sports drinks, acting as her sideline support. When the whistle blew, my gaze instinctively drifted up, catching Brooke as she executed a clean crossover past her defender. Chase stood just beyond the baseline, clutching a towel and a water bottle. Every time she scored, he clapped and shouted, “Nice shot!” Whenever she paused to catch her breath, he was right there offering water and patting her face with the towel, his movements entirely practiced. Nearby spectators were murmuring among themselves. “They look so good together.” “Brooke’s playing full court without breaking a sweat—Chase definitely deserves half the credit for that!” I pulled the corner of my mouth taut and forced my eyes back onto Sadie. When the third quarter ended, Brooke stepped off the court to grab a drink, and Chase draped the towel over the back of her neck with effortless familiarity. I kept my head down, twisting open a bottle cap, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Brooke walking over. She glanced at the neatly arranged drinks by my feet, her brow furrowing. “Chase already got everything ready for me. You didn’t have to go through the trouble.” She paused, then added, “If you have free time, you’d be better off spending it on your books.” I gripped the bottle, saying nothing. She continued, “Look at Chase. Top of his class, winning academic competitions, managing his schedule down to the minute. You could really stand to learn from him.” A sudden wave of absurdity washed over me. For the first time, I looked directly into her eyes. “Whether I study or not, what does that have to do with you?” She was visibly taken aback, her brow knitting tight. “Tyler, what’s with the attitude? College really changed you—you’ve lost all your drive. If your mindset falls behind, how are we supposed to—” “How are we supposed to?” I cut her off, my eyes stinging. “There is no we anymore.” Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She reached down to pick up one of the bottles near my sneakers. Before her fingers could graze the plastic, another hand snatched it away. Sadie twisted the cap off, took a long gulp, and flashed me a grin. “Ty, the water you buy always tastes better.” Then, shifting her stance, she stepped directly between Brooke and me. Brooke’s hand hovered in midair before she awkwardly pulled it back. She glared at me, and seeing that I kept my gaze averted, her expression hardened. Chase strolled over, his tone breezy. “Oh, Tyler, so you came specifically to cheer for freshman Sadie? No wonder you brought so many drinks.” He paused, his lips twitching into a slight smirk. “I was wondering earlier why you hadn’t looked Brooke’s way even once.” Before I could reply, Brooke’s face darkened completely. I lifted my chin. “You’re keeping such close tabs on me, Chase. Anyone watching might think you and Sadie were the ones dating.” “Tyler!” Brooke snapped, her voice lowered but burning with fury. “What kind of garbage are you spewing? Chase has spoken up for you so many times—have some shame. Can your mind not be so filthy?” Before I could fire back, her words tumbled out in an agitated rush. “Every time I run into trouble, every time I’m struggling with a problem, who’s the one standing beside me? It’s Chase! When I’m up studying till three in the morning and can barely keep my eyes open, who’s sitting right there with me? It’s Chase! When I had a fever and went to the clinic, who stayed by my side the entire night?” Her eyes rimmed with red, her voice trembling. “You ask why I don’t answer your texts? Think about it yourself—when I actually needed you, where the hell were you?” The sideline instantly fell silent. Several students nearby subtly cast their eyes in our direction. Chase kept his head lowered, tugging lightly at her sleeve, looking like he was trying to calm her down while subtly playing the victim. Inside my chest, the single thread that had stayed taut for four years snapped clean in two. Chapter 4 “Where was I?” My voice came out scratchy and dry. “Brooke, during finals week of our freshman year when you had a fever, I called you eleven times. You didn’t pick up once. The next day, you told me your phone was on silent, and I believed you.” “Sophomore year, when my part-time boss docked my pay, I sat on the curb in the freezing cold and sent you a voice message saying, I’m hurting so badly. You sent me a hugging emoji two days later.” “Last month on my birthday, I stayed up until two in the morning waiting. You didn’t even say happy birthday. The next day, you said you forgot, and told me to stop being so melodramatic.” I stared at her, the tears finally breaking past my eyelashes and tracking down my jaw. “I wasn’t there when you needed me? Did you ever give me the chance to be there? Every single time you needed someone, Chase was already standing right next to you. Where was I supposed to stand?” Brooke’s lips parted, trembling, but she couldn’t formulate a single word. Chase released her sleeve, his voice hushed. “Brooke, drop it… Tyler’s probably just in a bad mood.” I turned to walk away when a sudden shout shattered the air. “Watch out!” In my peripheral vision, a heavy black shape hurtled toward us. I tried to duck, but it was already too late. Thud. I stumbled backward, the impact rattling my skull. Through my blurred vision, I saw Brooke lunging sideways toward Chase, wrapping her arms securely around his shoulders, twisting her torso to shield him from the line of fire. Even though the errant ball had never been heading anywhere near him. As my knees gave out, the pain in my chest choked the air straight out of my lungs. Chase cried out in panic, “Brooke, the ball hit Tyler!” Only then did Brooke whip her head around, her face draining entirely blank. I closed my eyes as waves of throbbing ache pulsed through the back of my head. Yet strangely enough, the boulder that had pressed down on my heart for the last three years finally dropped away into nothingness. In the campus infirmary. Brooke let out an audible breath. “The doctor said it’s just a mild concussion. Nothing serious.” I didn’t answer. She pulled a chair closer and sat down. “The tournament just ended, and I have to catch the last bus back to my campus. Get some rest, okay? I’ll come see you next time.” She hesitated, softening her tone. “About what happened on the court today—don’t overthink it. It was just a reflex. You look thinner lately; make sure you eat properly. Text me if you need anything. I… I’ll check and reply.” In the past, those few placating sentences would have been enough to make me swallow every drop of bitterness and wait patiently for that elusive next time. Hearing them now, the words carried no weight whatsoever. They drifted like ash landing on water, not even causing a ripple. I gave a faint nod. “Okay.” She waited for a beat. Seeing that I had nothing more to say, her lips twitched, but she finally stood up and walked toward the exit. At the threshold, she turned back, a trace of hesitation in her eyes, as if expecting me to call her back. I spoke up. “Check the messages I sent you when you get back.” She paused, then nodded. “Okay.” The next day, my phone remained dead silent. She had promised to check, yet there was still no reply. I pressed down on her chat thread and tapped delete. I packed a duffel bag and bought a train ticket to the coast. Chapter 5 I rented a small cottage by the beach—white siding, blue-framed windows, and a back porch that stepped directly onto the sand. For the first three days, I did absolutely nothing except lie there listening to the waves, sleeping until I woke up on my own. When hunger hit, I walked down the lane to grab a bowl of seafood chowder. The warm sun soaked into the tops of my bare feet as I rested my phone on my stomach. The screen lit up with a text from Sadie: Are the waves rough today? Don’t go swimming out into the deep water. Before I could type back, another notification popped up: Never mind, you wouldn’t listen anyway. I checked the tide charts. Between 2:00 PM and 4:00 PM is safe. Only go in the water during that window. I blinked at the screen, tapping back: You actually checked the tide charts? Yeah. I don’t trust you out there alone. Outside, white foam rolled over the shore in steady, hypnotic rhythms. I stared at the line of text for a long time, my chest feeling as though it were being submerged in warm water. With Brooke, ten messages earned a single k. A photo earned a sounds good. A confession of heartbreak earned a generic emoji. I had spent years believing love was supposed to be like that—quiet, lukewarm, an endless exercise in waiting. I snapped a picture of the evening sunset and sent it to Sadie: Look at this. Sharing it with you. She replied instantly: Gorgeous. Tomorrow I’m coming to see it too. I wrapped myself in a blanket and sank into the porch chair, listening to the surf rise and fall. The tangled knot that had been twisted tight inside my chest for so long finally began to smooth out. … A month later. Inside the East State library, Chase kept his voice low as he leaned toward Brooke. “Your birthday is the day after tomorrow. Have you thought about how you want to celebrate? I booked a table at that Italian place, and I put together a group…” Brooke slipped off her headphones, cutting him short. “I’m planning to go see Tyler.” She paused. “Just me this time.” Chase’s fingers paused over his notebook. He lowered his gaze, his voice turning bitter. “Are you… trying to surprise him? Maybe let him know ahead of time, just in case he has other plans?” Brooke shook her head with absolute certainty. “He won’t. For four years, he took the train to visit me every single year. He ordered the cake, picked out the gifts, counted down the seconds to text me right at midnight.” The memory of how dim and lifeless his eyes had looked during our last video call flashed through her mind, and her brow furrowed. “This time, it’s my turn to go to him.” Chase swallowed the ache in his throat, forcing a smile onto his face. “All right. Let me come with you to pick out a gift, then. Your taste in guys’ stuff is terrible.” After class, the department store lights were blindingly bright. Chase slung an arm over Brooke’s shoulder, walking briskly through the aisles. “If we’re picking something for Tyler, we need to get him something solid.” He stopped at an electronics display, picking up a heavy matte-black gaming headset and weighing it in his hand. “This one. The noise cancellation is top-tier. He plays games late, so he definitely needs a good headset.” Brooke shook her head. “He hasn’t played much lately. He said it strains his eyes.” Chase let out a dismissive scoff, setting it back on the shelf. “That’s just because he didn’t have the right gear. Guys say they don’t play, but they always do.” He turned into the outdoor section, pulling a dark charcoal technical windbreaker off the rack. “This one. Stiff cut, waterproof. Great for when he rides his bike to work.” Brooke felt the fabric between her fingers. “The material is sturdy, but isn’t the color too gloomy?” “Dark colors hide dirt.” Chase patted the jacket with a smile, though his eyes remained cold. “A guy like him who stays quiet all the time would look ridiculous wearing bright colors.” He remembered Tyler’s flat, unreadable gaze, and an inexplicable resentment surged in his chest. With a personality like that, what right did he have to make Brooke travel all this way for him? Chase turned around and grabbed a heavy tactical flashlight, tossing it lightly between his hands. “Take this too. When he walks home late at night, having a bright beam will keep him safe.” Brooke hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Chase watched her take the items one by one, his fingernails biting into his palms. Every single thing he had selected was something Tyler would despise. Yet Brooke remained completely oblivious, even turning to smile at him. “You really understand this stuff.” Late that night back in her dorm, Brooke washed her face and pulled up her text thread with Tyler. Her fingers hovered over the screen before typing: I’m coming down to see you tomorrow. I’ll send you my train ticket info. She hit send. A red exclamation mark flashed on the screen. Message Not Delivered. She had been blocked.
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