chapter 3
Back at my desk, I stared at the exchange portal again.
One hour.
In one hour, the application would become irreversible. I would be leaving the city I had lived in for years and heading for a new life at the southern campus.
The “Withdraw” button still sat there, waiting.
I didn’t click it.
Instead, I opened a new tab and started searching.
Southern campus.
Programs. Dorms. Weather. Research labs. Student housing. Competition history.
Time slipped past without me noticing.
Then the deadline passed.
The status on the screen changed from submitted to confirmed.
I let out a slow breath.
Leaving Liam hurt less than I thought it would.
What I felt most was relief.
My phone lit up.
Jess.
A string of furious messages appeared all at once.
Ava, I’m at O’Malley’s and you are NOT going to believe this.
L is here with Maya and a bunch of student government people.
They’re doing karaoke and everyone is cheering for him and Maya to sing a duet.
She’s practically draped over him.
A shaky video followed.
The image was dim and blurry, but I could still see him clearly. Liam stood in the middle of a circle of people, shirt collar unbuttoned, smiling. Maya pressed against his side, her cheeks pink, her eyes lowered like she was shy.
She made no effort to move away.
A voice shouted over the noise, “Come on, Prez! You know the rules! You lose the drinking game, you either sing a love song with the partner we pick, or you call Ava and have her come pick you up!”
Someone else yelled, “Yeah, call her!”
The crowd howled.
Everyone knew we were fighting. And everyone loved a show.
At the suggestion, Maya looked up at Liam hopefully.
He frowned, annoyed, and pulled out his phone.
Maya’s face fell.
A second later, mine rang.
I answered.
His voice was stiff. “I was out of line earlier. I’ve cooled down now. Come over to O’Malley’s, apologize to Maya in person, and we’ll pretend today never happened.”
I said nothing.
His patience vanished immediately.
“Did you hear me? Is it really that hard for you to say you’re sorry?”
I stared at the wall of the study room.
“Liam,” I said, my voice flat, “the only way I’m apologizing is if I’m dead.”
Silence.
Then his anger exploded.
“Fine, Ava. You want to be stubborn? Fine. Then stay on the line and listen to me sing a love song with someone else.”
I hung up.
A second later, Jess sent another video.
This one was worse.
Liam had thrown the microphone to the floor. Maya stood beside him with wide, trembling eyes.
“Liam,” she whispered, “we don’t have to sing. Please don’t be angry.”
“Who said I’m not singing?”
He looked straight toward the camera. He knew Jess was filming.
“What are you hiding for?” he said loudly. “Keep recording. Make sure your precious best friend gets a good look at who I’m with now.”
Then he grabbed Maya’s hand.
Their friends screamed.
He laced his fingers through hers and started to sing.
I closed the video, reached for my suitcase, and kept packing.
A few minutes later, I texted Jess.
Hey, can you help me shop for summer clothes tomorrow? It’s warm down south.
Her reply came in less than a minute.
Send me your dates and I’ll clear my schedule.
Also, I’m bringing a suitcase too. If you think I’m letting you go start your rebirth without at least three outfits I approve, you’re delusional.
I stared at the word rebirth until it blurred.
Not just a transfer. Not just a move.
A death and a beginning, wrapped up together.
The next few days passed strangely.
On the surface, everything looked normal. I went to class. Turned in assignments. Graded papers for the professor I worked under. I still sat in the same lecture hall and still walked past the student government office where Liam’s name was neatly displayed under President.
But underneath, something had already broken for good.
Liam texted once.
Have you calmed down yet?
The old me would have answered with paragraphs.
Explanations. Appeals. Compromise.
Instead, I turned my phone facedown and went back to studying.
That night, Jess showed up with takeout and an empty duffel bag.
“You’re not bringing that,” she said, pointing at the framed photo on my shelf.
It was from high school graduation. Liam had his arm around me, and both of us were smiling at the future like it had already been promised.
I touched the cracked glass.
“I’m not?” I asked softly.
Jess shook her head.
“You can take your degree, your laptop, your cat mug, and your weird color-coded sticky notes. You cannot take a man who let his freshman groupie use your ID to uproot your life and then called you unreasonable when you didn’t laugh.”
A weak laugh escaped me.
“She’s not his groupie,” I said. “She’s his little sister.”
Jess almost choked on a fry.
“Yeah, and I’m Beyoncé.”
Then she looked at me seriously.
“Say it with me, Ava. Not. Your. Problem. Anymore.”
I swallowed.
Not my problem anymore.
The words felt like someone had opened a window in a stale room.
I wrapped the photo in an old sweatshirt and buried it in my desk drawer.
Not thrown away.
Not yet.
But no longer where I would have to see it every day.