Chapter 1

My eyes, clouded with unshed tears, struggled to focus on the figure at the front of the room. Owen’s dark hair seemed to absorb the light, creating a cruel parody of a halo above his head. With every smirk tossed in Jasmine’s direction, my chest tightened, the pain a relentless tide threatening to drown me.

My fingers trembled like leaves in a storm, searching the depths of my bag for the tools of my confession. The pen felt foreign in my grasp, its weight heavy with the burden of my unsaid words. As I uncapped it, the paper lay before me, a blank canvas that was entirely too crisp and unblemished. It felt almost wrong to taint it with my bullshit. I shook my head slightly to stop myself from disassociating. I pressed the tip of the black ink pen to the first line.

“Dear Owen,” I wrote, my handwriting shaky and uneven. The ink smeared beneath my fingertips, mingling with the tears that fell silently onto the paper. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision, but the world remained a watery blur.

My chest constricted as I watched Owen lean in close to Jasmine, his lips brushing against her ear. Her breathy giggle echoed through the hall, each note a shard of glass in my heart. I pressed the pen harder against the paper, the words flowing faster now, fueled by the raw ache inside me.

“I don’t understand why you despise me,” I scrawled, the truth of those words burning like acid in my throat. How could someone so beautiful, so perfect, harbor such hatred for me? What had I done to deserve this?

I wrote with a fervor that bordered on desperation, each word a drop of blood from my dying soul. With every line, the numbness crept in, a frosty blanket over the infected wound that had taken root in my very being. It was a relief, this chilling detachment, a serene acceptance of the path I had chosen. My hand moved of its own accord, the words spilling onto the page like one of my old diary entries.

“I want to let you know it’s not your fault—it’s mine.” The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but I couldn’t bring myself to blame him. Even now, even after everything, I couldn’t bear the thought of causing him pain.

When I finished, I carefully folded the letter, caressing the paper with my fingers as if it were a fragile, living thing. This was my heart, laid bare on a single sheet. As I slipped it into my bag, a tear escaped, rolling down my cheek. I wiped it away hastily, praying no one had noticed my breakdown.

The professor’s voice droned on, a meaningless hum in the background. I let it because I couldn’t be bothered. Nothing mattered anymore anyways.

As the lecture ended and students began to file out, I remained frozen in my seat, unable to move, unable to tear my eyes away from him. He stood, stretching languidly, his muscular arm casually draped around Jasmine’s slender shoulders, pulling her close to his side. She leaned into him, a satisfied smirk playing on her glossy lips. The intimate gesture sent a fresh wave of agony ripping through my chest, so intense I could barely breathe. It felt like a vice was crushing my lungs, squeezing the air from them until I was left gasping silently. Hot tears pricked at the corners of my eyes again, but I blinked them back furiously, refusing to let any more fall.

I stumbled to my feet, my legs weak and unsteady, barely able to support my weight. The world tilted and spun around me as I made my way down the steps, each one feeling like a monumental effort. Vertigo assaulted my senses, and I had to grip the railing tightly to keep from pitching forward. Just as I reached the bottom, my foot caught on the edge of a step, and I tumbled forward, my hands flailing in a desperate attempt to break my fall.

The letter slipped from my bag, floating to the ground like a fallen flower petal, a fragile testament to my shattered heart. Panic seized me as I scrambled to retrieve it, my fingers grasping at empty air. I pushed myself up, ignoring the sting of my scraped palms, but the sea of departing students who giggled behind their hands as they passed made it impossible to reach. Bodies jostled me from all sides, and I fought against the tide, my eyes locked on the spot where the letter had fallen.

I watched in horror as it disappeared beneath countless feet, trampled and lost in the shuffle of bodies, my deepest secrets laid bare for anyone to find. A choked sob escaped my lips as I realized the enormity of what had just happened, the last vestiges of my control slipping away like sand through my fingers.

As I pushed through the crowd, desperate to get to the letter, the cold realization settled over me again. Who even gives a shit? By sunrise, I would be gone, and all of this pain would finally end along with anything anyone could have said to me about the letter if they ever read it. The thought brought a twisted sense of peace.

My breath hitched, caught on the jagged edges of my resolve as I stepped out of the lecture hall. The echo of my footsteps mocked the silent scream within me, each one a testament to the goodbye that lay crumpled and forgotten.