Chapter 3: Unanswered Calls

When I left the library, it was already dark out.

Outside, the parking lot shimmered under the harsh glare of old sodium lights, making every car look washed out and ghostly. A chilly wind swept wrappers and leaves past my sneakers as I dug my hands into my hoodie pockets.

I turned on my phone, and dozens of missed calls popped up all at once.

All from Jason.

My heart fluttered at the sight. For a split second, I hesitated, thumb hovering over the notifications. This was the first time in two years he’d ever called me first.

Just as I was about to ignore it, Jason’s call came in again, and I accidentally answered.

His voice was cold and flat on the other end.

"You blocked me on Instagram?"

I replied calmly, "Yeah, it was messing with my vibe, so I got rid of it."

There was a moment of silence, then his tone sharpened: "What? Are you mad?"

I laughed. The sound echoed down the empty sidewalk, brittle in the night air. "Why would I be? If you’ve found happiness, I’m happy for you. I hope you two have a long and happy life."

As soon as I finished, I thought I heard something shatter on his end.

It was faint, maybe a dropped glass or just his breath catching, but it made me pause for half a second. Then, silence.

Jason’s voice went icy: "Emily, do you even know what you’re saying?"

"I know, Jason. Let’s not contact each other anymore."

I spoke slowly, every word clear and steady.

Jason was silent for a long time, then let out a bitter laugh, his voice unreadable.

"Emily, you really are just like everyone else."

He hung up, and the pop-up comments exploded.

[What’s happening? Weren’t they supposed to get their happy ending after this? Why’d they just stop talking?]

[She’s being so dramatic. He loves her, what’s so wrong with just giving in a little?]

[If I had a hot, broken guy like that, I’d love him no matter what he did.]

[Anyone else think the guy’s totally out of line? Trust is everything. Testing her like this? Not okay.]

[You up there, what do you know? He’s like this because his parents split when he was a kid. She should cut him some slack.]

Walking back to the dorm, my eyes stung with tears.

The crisp, autumn air bit at my cheeks as I trudged across the quad. The thud of a distant football practice, the smell of wet grass, the blue glow of dorm windows—everything felt painfully normal. After all, he was someone I really loved. How could I not feel sad?

As for what the comments said about Jason’s parents, I’d heard about it from his sister a year ago.

That’s why I put up with him for so long.

But the facts have proven: you can’t save someone else.

We can’t pull him out of the pit; we’ll just get dragged in ourselves.

And as for the comments saying Jason loves me—I’ve never felt it at all.

If he loved me, he wouldn’t have barely replied to my texts for two years.

If he loved me, he wouldn’t have forgotten our dates every time, leaving me waiting three hours at the movie theater in the snow.

My fingers went numb around the hot cocoa, the snow soaking through my sneakers as I kept telling myself he’d show.

If he loved me, he wouldn’t have stayed silent when classmates mocked me for chasing him, saying it was just wishful thinking.

All my memories are just proof that he doesn’t love me.

Real breakups don’t happen all at once.

They’re the result of a thousand little disappointments piling up over time.

Maybe if I made up with him this time, I could really be with Jason.

But suspicion is like cheating: it’s either never or forever.

I don’t want to spend my future constantly explaining and proving myself.