Her smile is sharp, determined. “I’m going to have a very honest conversation with him about trust and respect, and why this relationship is over.”
“Good for you.”
“Good for both of us.”
We hug goodbye, and I watch her walk out into the afternoon light, shoulders straight and purpose in her step.
She’s going to be fine, I realize. More than fine.
And maybe, if I can find the courage Harper just showed, so will I.
I pull out my phone and scroll to Ethan’s contact, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Everything in me wants to text him immediately, to rush over there and fall into his arms and pretend the last week never happened.
But sitting here, fresh from one of the hardest conversations of my life, I realize that’s exactly the kind of thinking that got me into trouble with Miles. Rushing toward someone else to fix the mess in my head instead of doing the work myself first.
Harper just walked out of here with her dignity intact because she asked hard questions and demanded honest answers. She didn’t let Miles’s manipulation define her worth or her future. She took control.
I need to do the same thing.
I open Ethan’s contact.
Thank you for the note and for leaving Greg. I missed you too. I need some time to think about things - really think, not just react. I’ll message you when I’m ready.
I stare at the text for a long moment, then hit send before I can lose my nerve.
Ethan
Take all the time you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready.
Simple. Understanding. No pressure, guilt, or attempts to change my mind. Just... patience.
It makes me want to call him immediately, which is exactly why I need to stick to my guns on this.
34
ETHAN
Istare at the text I just sent, then immediately want to delete it and send something else. Something more desperate, maybe. Something that would convince her not to take time, to just come over right now so we can figure this out together.
But that’s not what she asked for. I need to trust that giving her the space won’t make her run into Miles’s arms, and if it does, then we’re not meant for each other anyway.
So I pocket my phone and try to focus on the work I’ve been neglecting for days.
My senior showcase presentation is in two weeks, and while the game itself is finally working properly, I still need to put together the portfolio and gameplay that will determine whether I graduate and what kind of job prospects I’ll have afterward.
It should be straightforward—screenshots, design documents, a demo video. But every time I try to write the artist statement, my brain feels like mud.
I’m deep into writing when I get distractedby an email notification. Grade update in the portal. I click over, expecting nothing exciting, and freeze.
My GPA has jumped from 2.8 to 3.2.
The academic rehabilitation tutoring credit has been applied, just like Professor Long promised. My transcript now shows “Academic Mentorship - Merit Completion” alongside improved grades in two other courses.
I should feel proud. I should feel relieved. Instead, I feel sick, because I know exactly who else has seen this.
My dad insisted on portal access when I started college. None of my friends’ parents have it, but Dad said it was non-negotiable if he was paying tuition. “I need to know early enough when things are going shit so I can help you course-correct,” he’d said. Just like how he had showed up to every single one of my football practices. You’d think it would be supportive, but it was actually so he could point out mistakes in real-time and make sure I was performing up to his standards.
I really need to change my password and log him out. I keep meaning to, but somehow, I never do. Like part of me still wants his approval, even when I know it’s poisonous.
