I cried that day. For several weeks after, I was lost. I wanted to talk to him, to reach out, to fix whatever it was that broke us—but every time I tried, something inside me stopped me. Pride? Fear? I didn't know.
How did we end up like this?
To numb the ache, I buried myself in the school paper. Nights turned into dawns at the publishing house—editing, rewriting, chasing deadlines until exhaustion dulled the pain. By the time I returned to campus, exams were looming, and there was no space left to breathe, much less grieve.
Before I knew it, the school year ended. Vacation arrived, but without a single word from Jacob. The silence stretched like an ocean. I missed him terribly, yet all I had were memories—and the tears I still cried at night.
My parents brought us to their hometown, a quiet place by a river. The air was fresh, the nights hushed. I spent whole days lying by the water, staring at the reflection of the sky. Sometimes, I would imagine Jacob sitting beside me, strumming his guitar, filling the silence with melodies only he could create. But when the breeze shifted, I was alone again.
There were nights I pressed my face into my pillow, muffling sobs so my family wouldn't hear. I wanted to tell myself I was strong, but I wasn't. I wanted to believe I could move on, but I couldn't.
I tried. I dialed his number more times than I could count. Each call rang into emptiness. My messages went unread, unanswered. With every silence, it felt like he was slipping further away, beyond my reach.
When May came and I returned for enrollment, I carried a fragile hope with me. A foolish part of me prayed that maybe, just maybe, I'd see him across the crowd, smiling like nothing had broken between us.
But instead, the news hit me like a blow to the chest.
Jacob had a new girlfriend.
The words spun in my head. My hand trembled as I instinctively reached for my phone, but of course—no answer.
Kera pulled me aside, shielding me from the curious stares of classmates who had already caught wind of the gossip.
"Who?" I whispered, my whole body shaking.
She bit her lip, eyes clouded. "I'm not sure. I heard something, but…" She trailed off, unwilling—or unable—to finish.
Before I could press further, someone blocked our path. Angela, my former roommate, stood there, eyes wide.
"Hallie," she said softly.
We stared at each other, the silence thick.
"I want to be honest," Angela continued. "I saw them. I don't know what happened between you two, but… I know Jacob loves you. He still does. But since last month, before vacation, he hasn't been himself. Always out with his new friends. Sam—Samantha—always goes with them. You remember her, right? The second-year from our floor?"
I nodded, throat tight.
Angela's voice dropped lower. "Last week, someone saw her walking out of Jacob's room."
The world tilted. My heart hammered as the image burned itself into my mind.
Kera's hand found mine, steady and warm. "I'm here," she whispered. "We'll figure this out. Just… breathe."
I wanted to breathe. I wanted to believe it wasn't true. But the ache hollowing my chest told me otherwise.
"That Samantha bitch," Angela spat, her voice sharp. "I knew the first time I caught her looking at him. The snake always knows when to bite."
I laughed bitterly, the sound quickly breaking into sobs. "Do I even have the right to be angry? We broke up. He has every right in the world."
Angela and Kera exchanged worried glances, afraid I was about to lose it completely.
Then, through my tears, I forced a laugh. "You know, I haven't tried the new billiard hall near the internet café. Think the guys are free?"
Kera gawked. Angela's jaw dropped.
"You're… what?" Kera asked in disbelief.
I smirked, though my chest still ached. "Maybe it's time I do something stupid. Something reckless. Maybe it'll help me forget—or at least pretend I don't care."
Angela shook her head, muttering, "You're insane."
"Maybe," I said with a hollow grin, "but sometimes, being a little insane is the only way to survive heartbreak."
And so I stood, letting defiance mix with despair. The storm inside me wasn't over, but at least now I was willing to step into it.
After the news about Jacob, I went out with Kera and Angela, and as if on cue, the guys followed—Ian, Brian, and Michael, engineering students I'd known since third year, mostly through Ian, who was practically family to me. Together we'd built a crazy little group, stitched together with laughter and bad ideas.
"I want to punch him," Ian muttered, sending a billiard ball flying with too much force.
I didn't reply. My friends had a way of knowing when to talk and when to simply stand with me. And in that moment, their presence was enough.
A few minutes later, someone new walked in. Tall, cheerful, his smile seemed to light up the room. He clapped the guys on the shoulders as he passed.
"This is Chris," Brian said. "He's a transferee."
Chris's eyes lingered on mine.
"Chris, this is Hallie, Kera, and Angela," Brian introduced.
For a moment, I only stared. Then I smirked, a teasing edge in my voice.
"What? Haven't seen a brokenhearted girl before?"
Chris blinked, caught off guard, then smiled sheepishly.