Chapter 2: Shadows of Our Past

Mason was always exceptional. From the moment we met, it was obvious we came from different worlds.

He made everything look easy—grades, friends, even tying his shoes with that effortless cool. Next to him, I felt like a side character in my own life.

Maybe it wasn’t obvious at first, but by our fourth year, the startup Mason had sunk $15,000 into made it to the national top 500. That’s when I realized the gap between us was turning into the Grand Canyon.

People started treating him differently—professors, classmates, even my parents. Suddenly, he was "that Mason Grant," and I was just the girl lucky enough to be with him. I hated how much it stung.

The idea of breaking up had already started gnawing at me. What really pushed me over the edge was Mason’s company’s annual gala.

He’d set everything up for me that night. I showed up, all excited, but the first person I saw wasn’t Mason—it was a girl in a white dress, standing next to him like she owned the place.

She looked like she’d stepped out of a magazine—tall, elegant, laughing at something Mason said. I hovered at the entrance, suddenly wishing I could melt into the floor.

She was poised, gracious, chatting and laughing with everyone around Mason. In that moment, whatever was left of my self-esteem just crumbled.

It felt like watching the scene in a rom-com where the main character realizes she’s just an extra. My hands shook so badly I almost dropped my clutch.

I told myself only someone like her deserved to stand by Mason’s side.

I tried to shake it off, told myself I was being ridiculous. But the feeling stuck. She looked like she belonged in his world—confident, polished, untouchable.

That night, I grabbed my clutch and made a beeline for the exit. The next day, I broke up with Mason.

Didn’t even stick around for dessert. I called an Uber, ugly-cried the whole ride home, and typed out a breakup text that I wrote and deleted at least a dozen times before finally hitting send.

He asked me why. Red-eyed and raw, I said, "I don’t like you anymore."

Biggest lie I’ve ever told. But it was easier than admitting I felt so small.

Since then, radio silence. It’s been almost six months.

Six months of late-night regrets, scrolling through old photos, wondering if I’d ever stop missing him.

"Lauren?"

Mariah nudged my shoulder, snapping me back. I saw classmates packing up, getting ready to head out.

She gave me a gentle smile, the kind that said she knew exactly where my head had gone. "You good?" she whispered, squeezing my hand under the table.

Before we left, a girl piped up:

"Lauren Evans, if Mason replies, let us know. I want to see his reaction! Back then, he never had any girls around except you."

She winked, and everyone laughed. It was all in good fun, but the words still stung a little.

That’s when I remembered to check my phone for Mason’s reply.

My heart hammered in my chest. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, took a deep breath, and opened his chat.

Right before I tapped his chat, I braced myself. Whatever he said, I’d just keep apologizing. If he couldn’t forgive me, I’d let him vent. That was the plan.