Chapter 1: The Girl Who Came Too Early

On the flight back to the States, I caught myself aimlessly scrolling through a trending question on one of those online forums—probably Reddit or something like it—half hoping to distract myself, half searching for some kind of sign from the universe, you know?

[If I became the other girl in “30 Seconds in the Library,” should I go for it? Should I try to make my own happy ending?]

The comments section was packed with people telling her to just let it go. The sheer number of replies, the chorus of "move on," was almost overwhelming. Honestly, it was overwhelming—a wave of strangers trying to talk sense into someone who just wouldn’t listen.

But she was relentless, firing back at every comment, not backing down for a second:

[I have a master’s from Northwestern—my academic background is definitely stronger than his girlfriend’s. Just saying.]

[His girlfriend went abroad right after undergrad. Usually, people around here only go overseas if they can’t get into a good school in the States.]

[None of his close friends have ever seen a picture of that woman, and he’s never posted her on Instagram. I mean, come on, who even is this girl?]

[I look pretty good—sometimes people on the street call me ‘gorgeous,’ and my height matches his perfectly. Like, what more do you want?]

[He said his girlfriend is well-behaved, probably the quiet and boring type, because he always tells me how interesting I am. Just saying.]

...

To prove her point, she posted all kinds of provocative details and photos hinting at their interactions. It was the kind of thread you couldn’t stop reading—even though you knew you’d regret it.

Even though it was just a side profile, I recognized the guy in the photo right away. No way. Not him. It was Noah Beckett. My heart did that weird, hollow drop, like missing a step in the dark.

The day I left, I tossed the ring he gave me—our promise ring—straight into the trash. The sound it made—just a tiny clink—echoed way louder in my head than it should have. It was over.

My friend tried to comfort me. “Maybe Noah didn’t actually cheat.” She squeezed my hand. She sounded gentle, but I could tell she didn’t believe it either.

I shook my head. “But he let someone else cross the line.” I hated saying it, but it was true. Sometimes betrayal isn’t a single act—it’s a door left cracked open.

After that, no matter how heavy the snow fell, it was its own business; I was just the last stubborn patch of green, clinging to life in a world turning white. Even as everything around me changed, I tried to hold on to the last bit of warmth. I refused to let winter swallow me whole. But it was hard.

This time, I didn’t tell Noah I was coming back. I wanted to surprise him for New Year’s. He’d be so happy, I just knew it. I could already picture his face lighting up—the kind of smile that used to make my chest ache with happiness.

Dragging my suitcase into the Maple Heights gym, I got there right as the basketball game hit halftime. The familiar smell of sweat and old wood floors hit me, bringing back a rush of memories. Late-night practices, pep rallies. The echoes of sneakers squeaking against the court. My stomach twisted with nostalgia.

The cheers from the court were getting louder and louder. The whole place felt alive, buzzing with energy that had nothing to do with me anymore. It was like I was invisible. I didn’t belong here.

Noah jogged off the court, and a girl holding drinks bounced right up to his side. She looked so at home there. Like she’d always been there. Like I never was.

“In my left hand is our favorite Gatorade, in my right is the healthiest bottled water. Which do you want?” Her voice was light, teasing, like they’d played this game a hundred times before. Like this was their thing.

Noah casually took the Gatorade from her hand and twisted it open. “I’ll take the water. I opened this for you.” He handed her the bottle with that crooked smile—his trademark. The same one I used to think was just for me.

The girl smiled and nodded, cheeks pink with happiness. You can’t fake that look. It was the kind of look that says everything without a single word.

Almost all the students in front were whispering about the two of them. Their voices blended into a low hum, but certain phrases drifted back to me, sharp as glass.

“I really didn’t expect Emily Rhodes could get Noah Beckett. Guess that’s what they mean by ‘fortune favors the bold.’”

“I’ve finally seen what it’s like for a girl to chase a guy—it’s just a thin layer of gauze. At first, Beckett tried to avoid her, but now he even opens bottles for her.”

“Seriously, last semester, Emily broke someone’s beaker in chem lab—total disaster. Noah stayed up, like, three nights to help her fix it.”

“If they weren’t both so smart, I’d say it was like Naoki and silly Xiangqin in real life. For real.”

“They’re both top students in their labs, so it’s not impossible for feelings to grow over time, right?”

...

Last semester. Naoki and Xiangqin. Feelings growing over time. Those words echoed in my mind, each one stinging a little more than the last.

My phone buzzed—it was that post getting updated again: [Guys, how am I supposed to say no to a guy who comes over at halftime, all sweaty, just to open my drink?]

Someone immediately replied: [Why don’t you just ask him after the game? If he really likes you, he’ll break up with his girlfriend.]

Emily liked that reply. That stupid thumbs-up felt like a slap.

Not long after, Noah’s team won by a landslide. The scoreboard flashed, the crowd roared, and for a second, everyone but me was celebrating.

The crowd scattered fast, and I found myself in a corner, half-hidden, close enough to hear everything. I pressed myself against the wall, trying to become invisible.

“The second half was all thanks to Beckett dropping buckets. Drinking the water Emily brought really works.”

“What are you talking about, Matt? Say that again and I’ll deck you!”

Emily raised her hand, pretending to be mad. “You make it sound like I’m his girlfriend...”

As she spoke, her eyes stayed glued to Noah, like she was waiting for his reaction. The hope in her face was painfully obvious.

“Go on, tell people you two are just friends—yeah, right. Like anyone’s buying that. Still putting on an act for us—”

“Last semester it was the beaker, this semester it’s the thesis, last week you burned your hand with hot water, yesterday you went for barbecue after your midnight experiment—when did you not call Beckett? And when did he not go?”

...

“Doesn’t Beckett have a girlfriend?”

Someone said this, and the gym went quiet. The air froze. The silence was so sudden it felt physical, like the whole room had stopped breathing.

My hand clenched into a fist. I could barely breathe. My own heartbeat was loud and frantic in my ears.

The ring on my finger pressed painfully into my skin. I twisted it, almost hoping the pain would ground me. Just something real.

“He does.”

It was Noah’s voice. A bit muffled. Like he was forcing the words out, or just tired of saying them.

I remembered he always spoke to me softly and gently. There was a warmth in his voice that made everything feel safe.

Except that one time when my phone died and I never got his calls. He got anxious and angry, and his voice sounded just like it did now. That edge—equal parts fear and frustration.

But I still secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe things weren’t as bad as I thought. Maybe there was still a chance for us.

“What do you mean ‘he does’? None of us have ever seen a picture. Emily, don’t believe him, he just likes to pretend—”

“There really is, it’s just that we keep things low-key. I still want a normal life.”

Before anyone could process it, Emily blurted out, “Then we... is there really no chance for us?”

“When I got together with her, I told her, as long as she doesn’t break up with me, I’m not going anywhere.”

Noah shrugged on his jacket and tried to sound casual. “Emily, you’re a great girl, you definitely deserve someone better—”

“But that’s not fair to you...”

“What if you meet someone more suitable? Would you really let her hold you back?”

Emily was nearly in tears, her voice shaking, barely holding it together. The look on her face was raw, unguarded—like she was hanging on to the last thread of hope. I knew that look.

The silence dragged on. I don’t know how long it was before I finally heard Noah’s voice again. The pause stretched out, heavy and awkward.

He said, “Guess you can only blame the right person for showing up too late.”

...

Blame the right person for showing up too late?

I suddenly shut my eyes, tears streaming down before I could stop them. The sting in my chest was sharp, almost physical.

Then what am I?

The one who came early and just got lucky? Was my only virtue being first?

Some words just shouldn’t be thought about—the more you dwell on them, the more humiliating they feel. I bit my lip, trying not to let the shame swallow me whole.

I still remember junior year, when Noah used the scholarship money he’d saved for two years to fly to the US and spend Christmas with me. He showed up at JFK, bleary-eyed and grinning, his backpack slung over one shoulder like he’d just won the lottery.

The long flight left him looking exhausted. He’d texted me the whole way, even through layovers, counting down the hours until we could see each other again.

But he still stubbornly waited for me at the campus gate until I finished class. “I wanted you to see me first, and I wanted to see you first too.” His voice was shaky, but his eyes were steady—so full of hope.

We huddled in my tiny apartment making Christmas dinner together. He hugged me close and joked in a whisper about why there couldn’t be a magic portal so we could see each other anytime, anywhere... We laughed about it, but deep down, I think we both wished it could be real.

When the first snowflake fell outside the window, he carefully slipped the ring he’d bought with his part-time wages onto my finger. He looked so proud, like he’d just given me the world.

He excitedly told me about his plans for the future. All the things we’d do, the places we’d go—he made it sound so easy. It all sounded so easy, like all we had to do was want it badly enough.

When he looked at me, his eyes were gentle and focused. I felt seen, really seen, in a way I never had before. He really saw me.

“Ellie, they all say love changes in a second, and I think so too.”

“I like you more every second.” His words were soft, but they landed like a promise. My heart skipped. I believed him.

...

But when did this relationship become an obstacle for him to find the right person? When did I go from being his future to being just someone in the way?

I didn’t know if I should rip off the ring and throw it in his face, screaming at him. Or just leave, not even bothering to break up in person. My mind spun with all the ways I could end this, none of them satisfying.

But I knew: Noah and I were truly over. There was a finality to it, a cold certainty I couldn’t shake.

It was when he let traces of other girls creep into our relationship. When he stopped protecting what we had, letting cracks form where there used to be none.

It was when he told another girl that the reason they couldn’t be together was “she came too late.” Like I was just a placeholder, a technicality.

Love loses its voice faster than the seasons flip, faster than the maples shedding their leaves onto the sidewalk. One day it’s there, bright and loud; the next, it’s just gone. Just silence.

I took off the ring and tossed it into the man-made lake outside the gym. The water swallowed it without a sound. Just like that, it was gone—erasing the last piece of us.

Winter is bleak. The cold seeps in, slow and relentless.

Love evaporates quietly, without even needing a reason. Sometimes it just disappears, leaving nothing but the ache behind.

I dragged my suitcase aimlessly down the road. The wheels rattled over the cracked pavement, echoing in the empty night. I had nowhere to go.

Next to Maple Heights is the high school Noah and I went to. The old building looked the same, stubbornly holding on to memories I wished I could forget.

Through the fence, I saw a boy and girl in school uniforms standing on the tree-lined path. Their laughter drifted over, light and careless, the way ours used to be. It hurt, just seeing it.

Suddenly, I remembered the graduation party six years ago, also on this road. The night air was thick with the scent of grass and possibility. I could almost taste it.

Wearing headphones, I was walking in the night breeze, thinking about regrets from high school—about the people I regretted. The song playing was something bittersweet, the kind you only listen to when you want to feel everything at once.

“Ellie Monroe.”