Amber slammed her iced coffee onto the cafeteria table, the plastic lid rattling. "I swear, Brie, if I see Jeff today, I might actually throw this at his smug face."
Brie blinked, barely registering the fury in Amber's voice. The cafeteria buzzed around them — students laughing, trays clattering, espresso machines hissing — but it all felt distant. Muffled. Like she was underwater.
Amber leaned forward. "Are you even listening?" Instead, Brie gave her a small smile, and her gaze drifted to the window. The October sun cast long shadows across the quad, golden light flickering like memories.
She wasn't here.
She was back on that cold night two years ago.
—
She'd been nineteen, rushing to catch the last bus at the bus station near 145th Street. Her backpack was heavy, and her feet sore, having had to walk quite a distance from the library that night. The city felt unusually cruel that night, and it didn't take long before its cruelty swung on her in the form of three men who had followed her from the corner store — laughing, taunting, slowly walking behind her—closing in.
She remembered the panic. The way her breath caught, and how she had fumbled with her phone to call the police. Then, all of a sudden, she had missed her step, causing her to twist her ankle as she tried to run.
Those men had leisurely walked up to her, all the while making dirty comments about what they wanted from her. She had pleaded, as they leaned closer and surrounded her.
Then one of them had touched her hair while the other gripped her chin hard—she had screamed.
She screamed so loud, but there was no one in sight. All she heard was their eerie laughter as they seemed to enjoy her panicked screams.
Not long after, she felt a gust of wind as one of the men was yanked off her sight and thrown off.
As soon as that happened, there was chaos.
A man in a black suit appeared like a storm. He moved fast and precisely. Another thug went down with a grunt, staggering back, clutching his jaw, while the third man ran.
Brie had collapsed onto the sidewalk, her heart racing, and her ankle screaming.
He turned to her with eyes like steel. They were grey, sharp, and concerned.
It was Jeff.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice low, urgent.
She nodded, then winced as he reached for her hand. However, pain shot through her leg the moment she tried to stand up.
"You're hurt," he said, scooping her into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.
His suit hugged his frame perfectly, and the white shirt beneath clung to abs that looked like they belonged in a Calvin Klein ad. His tousled black hair and 6'3 height added to his sexy look as though he'd walked out of a movie scene.
Jeff had carried her to a sleek black car parked nearby and driven her straight to the hospital. He paid for her medical bills and stayed until she was discharged, then checked in every day after that. And when she was finally home, he drove her to class, every single day, unless she was working remotely — one of her side gigs that helped pay tuition.
They became friends, close ones, and he'd text her good morning, bring her snacks, listen to her rants about professors and deadlines. She'd never felt so seen, so desired.
Then, ten months ago, he'd asked her to be his girlfriend with roses and a five-star dinner with candlelight.
She'd said yes before dessert.
Her heart had stuttered the night they met. But now it felt like it was breaking.
—
"Brie!" Amber's voice cut through the haze. "You're zoning out again."
Brie blinked, her eyes refocusing. "Sorry."
Amber's expression softened. "I get it. He was your dream guy. But dreams don't cheat."
Brie swallowed hard. "I just… I don't know. What if I'm taking this out of context? What if he isn't cheating? I don't know how to let go if he is—I've never been so confused until now." Her voice broke slightly.
Amber leaned in. "You don't have to let go today. But you do have to see him clearly. Not as the guy who saved you once but the guy who's hurting you now."
Brie nodded slowly, her fingers curling around her water bottle.
Then her phone buzzed.
Amber glanced down. "Don't tell me…"
Brie picked it up.
It was Jeff again.
Amber's jaw clenched. "You're not seriously—"
Brie stared at the screen. Her thumb hovered over the green button.
She remembered his laugh. His late-night drives. The way he'd held her when she cried about not knowing who her parents were. Then she remembered Libby's voice.
"You owe me round two."
Her thumb moved and hit decline.
Amber exhaled. "Good."
Brie stood, her chair scraping against the tile. "I need air."
Amber nodded and grabbed her bag. "I'm coming with you."
They stepped outside into the crisp New York breeze. The campus ground roared around them — taxis honking, students shouting, life moving forward.
Brie's phone buzzed again.
She didn't look.
Amber did.
Her eyes widened. "Brie…"
Brie turned.
Amber held up the screen.
Jeff is calling. But this time… It's a video call.
Brie's breath caught, unsure about picking up the call. Just then, Amber whispered, "Do you want to see what he has to say?"
Brie stared at the screen, pursed her lips, then reached for it.