Bree I kicked the door shut behind me, the solid thunk echoing through the quiet apartment. My jacket slipped from my shoulders and landed in a crumpled heap on the floor, followed closely by my school bag, which I let fall right in the middle of the hallway like it didn’t matter—because today, it really didn’t. My body felt like it had been through a war. Not a quick skirmish, either. More like someone had made me run a goddamn marathon, dragged me through a freezing river, shocked me back to life, flattened me with a forklift, and then finally decided to show mercy by putting me out of my misery. And still, somehow, I couldn’t relax. My heart was racing, my mind wouldn’t shut up, and my muscles ached from stress I didn’t even realize I’d been holding onto. This—this was what finals felt like. This was the price of keeping up a perfect GPA, of acing every last test and turning in assignments that could hold up under a microscope. It was pressure that never eased, not even when the last exam ended. But it was going to be worth it. God, I had to believe it would all be worth it soon. “Mom?” I called out, my voice hoarse and a little too loud for the quiet apartment. I dragged my feet through the hallway, glancing around in confusion. “Mom?” I was just about to call her name again when I spotted her in the kitchen. She was standing like she’d been planted there for hours—still, upright, smiling in this way that was just a little too bright. Her eyes sparkled like she knew something the rest of the world didn’t. There was something in her stance that screamed anticipation, like she had rehearsed this moment over and over again in her head and now that it was finally happening, she didn’t know how to contain herself. “Mom?” I asked again, more cautious this time. The tone came out like one of those girls in horror movies, the ones calling out to the friend who’s gone full psycho. “You look… different today.” A laugh bubbled out of her, light and borderline manic, like she couldn’t help it. She waved her hand dismissively. “Stop trying to make this weird, Bree!” “I’m not the one making this weird,” I said, a small grin breaking through despite the fatigue weighing me down. Mom was practically bouncing now, her excitement vibrating off her like heatwaves off pavement. My mom and dad had found each other young. Grandma used to tell the story with a mixture of disbelief and awe—how my mom had come home at seventeen, glowing and pregnant, with a twenty-four-year-old boyfriend trailing behind her, promising the world. And he had kept that promise. Right up until the day he died, he had loved us fiercely, worked hard, and made sure we never felt less than whole. I missed him every day. “Did you eat too much candy today?” I teased, glancing around the kitchen like I might spot the reason for her giddiness. “Because if you ate the last of the Skittles, I’m gonna—” “You got a letter!” she interrupted, squealing as she whipped an envelope from behind her back. She held it out toward me like it was a golden ticket. “I can feel the energy, babe,” she added, her voice softening, her eyes bright with pride. “It’s a good one. I just know it.” My heart practically leapt out of my chest. Suddenly, I was no longer exhausted—I was electrified. I zeroed in on the envelope, my gaze locking onto the deep forest green logo stamped in the corner. My breath hitched. There it was: Sierra Ridge University. Bold letters. Sleek design. A wolf stretching across the emblem. This wasn’t just any school—it was the school. The one known for its elite academic programs. The same university that had offered Oliver Camden a full-ride athletic scholarship for being a star quarterback. I hadn’t let myself hope too much, hadn’t let myself want it too badly, but now the envelope was real and in my hands. If they offered me even partial support—let alone a full ride—I wouldn’t have to bury myself in debt. I wouldn’t have to juggle two jobs while surviving on ramen. I could focus on being a student. I could finally breathe. Maybe even be with Oliver. I was just about to rip open the flap when Mom stepped in again. “But,” she said, raising both hands, her voice taking on that steady, calming tone she used when she wanted me to remember the bigger picture, “you applied to a lot of great schools. And every single one of them would be lucky to have you.” I rolled my eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at my lips. “You have to say that.” “You’re amazing,” she beamed. “I mean it, kid.” Biting my lip, I carefully tore open the envelope, my fingers trembling. I yanked the paper out in one go, almost too scared to read it. But I did. I began to read aloud, my voice shaking. “Dear Miss Morgan, we are pleased to inform you—” That was all I got out before Mom screamed and threw her arms around me. The hug was suffocating in the best way, all warmth and pride and tears I hadn’t even noticed were spilling down my cheeks. Her joy made it real. Made me believe it. Even though it meant I’d be moving states away. Even though it meant change and challenge and uncertainty. It was the opportunity I’d worked for, the one I’d dreamed about in secret. “What about the scholarship?” she asked once she finally released me, brushing her hair back and trying to look composed. I scanned the letter again, eyes darting across paragraphs until they landed on a line that stopped my breath cold. “I’m getting a full ride,” I whispered. My hand flew to my mouth, stunned by the words. “They’re giving me a full ride!” Her hands clapped together, and she laughed, eyes misting over again. “Of course they are! Of course they’re doing everything they can to get you there!” I couldn’t believe it. After everything—the sleepless nights, the burnout, the breakdowns I’d hidden from even her—it had finally paid off. I wasn’t just going to college. I was going on my terms. And I was going to thrive. “This is cause for celebration!” she declared, whirling around the kitchen like she was on a cooking show. “When you go, I’ll pick up another job. I’ll send you pocket money, make sure you’ve got what you need—food, books, whatever.” “Mom,” I said gently, the guilt already creeping in. “No, Bree,” she interrupted, locking eyes with me. And in them, I saw her heart. I saw love. Hope. Tears. “You focus on school. You focus on making something of this. I can help. I will help.” I opened my mouth to protest again, but she cut me off. “You’re the most brilliant, amazing kid in the world. You deserve this. You deserve everything.” And that was that. We celebrated in the best way we knew how—tortilla chips and homemade salsa, laughter echoing through the kitchen. She let me have one margarita—just one, she warned—because tonight, I wasn’t just her daughter. I was a future college student with a full ride to her dream school. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself be proud. ** I couldn’t help but beam as I knocked on the door, stepping slightly back and rocking on the balls of my feet, anticipation buzzing through me like electricity. My heart fluttered in my chest, light and hopeful, ready to spill the good news the second the door opened. I’d practically floated across town, barely noticing the houses passing by. Nothing else mattered right now except getting to him—telling him. Mrs. Camden—Oliver’s mom—opened the door, and I saw a flicker of surprise flash across her face. It was quick, but it was there, like she hadn’t expected anyone at this hour, least of all me. Still, I couldn’t help but smile at her, that warm, full-body kind of smile that just poured out of me. I was too excited to keep it in. “Hey, Mrs. Camden! Is Oliver home?” I asked brightly, even though I already knew the answer. His truck was parked in the driveway, right where it always was when he was in. “Hi, dear,” she replied, giving me a polite smile, her neck craning to look up toward the second floor, where his room was tucked away. “He is, but I’m—” “I won’t stay long, I promise,” I cut in, still grinning as I clasped my hands in front of me. “I just have something very important to tell him.” I knew she wasn’t wild about me hanging around too late, especially now with finals still going on. She’d made it clear before. But she also knew how much I helped him. She’d seen the change—how his grades had gone up, how he’d started actually trying. That was because of us. Because we studied together, supported each other. Because we were in love. But then something in her face shifted—barely a twitch, just something… unreadable. Something tight around her eyes, uncertain in the way her mouth settled. Still, she didn’t say anything else. Just gave a small, almost resigned nod and moved to the side, letting me pass into the house. I didn’t wait. I didn’t linger or hesitate. I darted past her and up the stairs two at a time, each step fueled by sheer happiness. My heart felt ready to burst as I clutched the good news to my chest, ready to throw it into the air like confetti. I was ready to tell my boyfriend that we were going to the same college. That the universe had aligned for us. That we didn’t have to figure out long-distance. That we didn’t have to miss each other at all. That everything we’d wanted—every dream we whispered to each other when the lights were out—was actually coming true. That was why I didn’t even knock. That was why I just burst into his room like I belonged there—because I did. Or at least, I thought I did. “Oliver!” I called out, the joy practically bubbling over— But I came to a sudden halt, right in the doorway. The words stuck in my throat. My body froze. My breath vanished. Right there, in his bed— the one where we’d slept, made love, shared secrets, held each other close—was Jenna. Straddling him. Naked. Every detail hit me like a slap across the face. Her bare back arched. His hands gripping her hips, guiding her movements. I could see it all. I could see him inside her. I could see the bliss on his face, how much he was enjoying it. How much he wasn’t thinking about me. Not even a little. “f**k!” he suddenly shouted, shoving her off him like she was a rag doll. Jenna squealed in protest as she flopped to the side. He grabbed for a sheet, wrapping it clumsily around his waist like that would somehow hide the betrayal I’d already witnessed. “Bree! What are you doing here?” he demanded, panic laced through every word, like I was the one out of place. Jenna let out an exaggerated sigh, unfazed as she stretched out on the bed like a smug cat, completely naked and unapologetic. She lay on her stomach, her feet up in the air, not a single part of her modest or ashamed. “Didn’t you break up with her yet?” she asked lazily, turning her head toward him. “You told me you were done with that loser girl.” Something inside me cracked. No, shattered. I felt my heart split, right down the middle. All the breath I’d been holding collapsed in on itself, and for a second, I swore I couldn’t feel my own body. Everything we’d built, every kiss, every plan, every promise—it was all a lie. A beautiful, gutting lie. The pieces of my heart crumbled, it made me almost cold, almost empty inside. Like everything I had ever felt for him, like everything we had created had just vanished. Not even anger took root inside of me, not sadness, not heartbreak. I was just… empty. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I didn’t give him that satisfaction. Instead, I looked right into his eyes—those same blue eyes I’d fallen for, now frantic and filled with guilt—and I made a decision. Right there, in that doorway, I chose my dignity. “Thank you,” I said, my voice steady, even as my insides trembled. My nod was small, but resolute. His brow furrowed, confused. “For what?” “For making sure I didn’t waste another second on someone who doesn’t deserve it.” And just like that, I turned around. I left his room. Left behind his touch, his kisses, his promises, his lies. I walked away from the boy I thought I loved, from the illusion I’d held onto for far too long. And oddly enough, it felt liberating. Like I had finally taken a deep breath after being underwater for far too long.