The week after that overheard conversation felt heavier than any exam week I had ever faced. Jossy's words low, careful, almost affectionate kept looping in my head. He hadn't said her name, but I didn't need him to.
He meant Lilly.
Every time I walked with him through campus, every time he slipped his hand into mine, the doubt pressed harder. His smile was still there, his texts still sweet, but now there was a question mark behind every gesture. Was he really seeing me… or seeing her through me?
Lilly, of course, acted like nothing had changed. She laughed with me in the cafeteria, shared clothes with me in the hostel, and even teased me about how "love looks good on you." But sometimes, when she thought I wasn't watching, her gaze lingered on Jossy a second too long.
Ken was the only one who seemed to notice the shift in me. One afternoon, while we waited for a lecture, he leaned close and whispered, "Pamela… are you okay?"
I forced a smile. "Of course. Why?"
"Because," his eyes flickered toward Jossy, who was busy laughing with Lilly across the room, "you're pretending a little too hard."
My throat tightened. I didn't reply.
⸻
The tension grew thicker as days passed. Jossy started canceling small plans a quick lunch, walking me back to the hostel, even study sessions we had promised to do together. His excuses always sounded reasonable: "Sorry, got caught up with Ken." Or "I had to help Lilly with an assignment."
Lilly. Always Lilly.
One evening, I walked into the library and froze. Across the room, Jossy and Lilly sat together, their heads bent low over a single book. His arm rested carelessly across the back of her chair, almost protective. My stomach twisted, but before I could say anything, Ken appeared beside me.
"Don't," he murmured, as if reading my thoughts.
I blinked up at him, startled. "Don't what?"
"Don't walk over there and embarrass yourself." His tone was gentle, not cruel. "They'll just tell you you're imagining things."
His words stung, mostly because I knew he was right. So I turned around, leaving the library before Jossy could even see me.
⸻
The breaking point came during lunch a few days later. We were all sitting together me, Lilly, Jossy, Ken and for a moment, it felt like old times. Then Lilly leaned closer to Jossy and whispered something in his ear.
He laughed. Not just a small laugh, but the kind that lit up his whole face. A laugh I hadn't heard directed at me in weeks.
"Pamela," Ken said suddenly, breaking the silence between us. "You're quiet today."
All eyes turned to me. Heat rushed to my face, and I scrambled for an excuse. "I'm just tired. Too many lectures."
Lilly smirked knowingly, sipping her juice. Jossy reached for my hand across the table, squeezing it lightly, as though that simple touch could erase the storm raging inside me.
But it didn't.
⸻
That evening, as I walked back alone, Ken caught up with me.
"You don't deserve this," he said quietly.
I frowned. "What are you talking about?"
He hesitated, then sighed. "You're holding on to someone who's already slipping away. And the worst part? He doesn't even care that you're hurting."
I stopped walking, staring at him. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because someone has to." His gaze was steady, sincere. "Because you deserve someone who looks at you like you're the only one in the room. Not someone who saves his best smile for your best friend."
The weight of his words pressed down on me. Part of me wanted to deny it, to fight for Jossy, to insist that things weren't as bad as they seemed. But another part… the part that had seen too much… whispered that Ken was right.
⸻
The following weekend was Jossy's birthday. I had been planning for weeks saving up little by little to get him something meaningful. A new wristwatch, sleek and stylish, one I knew he had admired in a shop window.
I showed up at his house early, cake in hand, the watch wrapped carefully in a small box. His mother welcomed me warmly, and for a moment, I felt a sense of belonging. Maybe this would remind him of what we had, of who I was to him.
He looked genuinely surprised when I walked in, his smile wide as he hugged me. "Pamela… you didn't have to."
"I wanted to," I whispered, handing him the gift.
He opened it, eyes lighting up. "Wow. This is perfect. Thank you."
For a while, it felt right again. We laughed, cut cake, and even took pictures together. I let myself believe, just for that brief moment, that the doubts in my head were just that doubts.
But later that evening, as I walked back toward campus, I saw him.
Jossy.
Not alone.
Lilly was with him.
They were dressed up, walking side by side, their voices low and intimate. He didn't see me at first. My heart pounded, my legs frozen to the ground. Then he laughed that same wide, unguarded laugh I had missed and it wasn't for me.
It was for her.
Lilly glanced up, and our eyes met across the street. For a split second, guilt flashed in her gaze. Then she quickly looked away, linking her arm with his as if to stake her claim.
The world tilted beneath me. My chest tightened, my breath coming in shallow bursts.
I turned and walked away before either of them could say anything, my vision blurring with tears I refused to let fall.
⸻
Back in my room, Lilly's bed was neatly made, her belongings perfectly in place. The sight of it made me feel sick. My roommate asked if I was okay, but I just muttered something about being tired and crawled under my blanket.
But sleep didn't come.
The image of them together, walking side by side like a couple, burned behind my eyelids. His laugh. Her arm in his. The betrayal of it all.
And worst of all, the memory of Jossy's words still lingered the promises, the smiles, the moments that now felt like lies.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. For a moment, hope flared in me. Maybe it was him. Maybe he would explain. Maybe
It wasn't.
It was Ken.
"Are you okay?" his message read.
And suddenly, the tears I had been holding back broke free.
Because the boy who claimed to love me was out with my best friend… and the one who actually noticed my pain was standing quietly in the background.
⸻
Pamela stared at her phone screen, Ken's message glowing in the darkness. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling. Should she tell him the truth? Should she admit what she had seen?
Before she could decide, another message popped up.
This time, from Jossy.
"Sorry, can't talk tonight. Busy."
Busy.
Pamela dropped the phone onto her bed, her chest hollow.
And for the first time since their story began, she wondered if this was the beginning of the end.