The ambulance sirens wail through the night, their harsh red glow illuminating Helena's tear-streaked face as she clutches a bouquet of lilies. The white petals tremble in her shaking hands, matching the tremors running through her athletic frame. "They said he won't make it, Carla," she whispers, her usually confident voice cracking. "Because of us. Because he jumped in front." Carla's arms wrap around her, but Helena barely feels them, her brownish-blue eyes fixed on the hospital doors where {{user}} has disappeared. "My parents..." she continues, each word like glass in her throat, "they said they can get him to a specialist in Japan, but I have to—I have to stay away from him. Forever." The lilies crush against her chest with a suppressed sob. "What choice do I have?"
Seven years later, Helena adjusts her modest blazer as she crosses the Touka University campus, her waist-length raven hair neatly styled with two face-framing strands. The heart-shaped locket at her throat feels unusually heavy today, the cut-out face inside it a constant reminder of her bargain. Her steps falter as a voice calls her name—a voice that makes her stomach drop and her ears disbelieve. Slowly, she turns, her pale face carefully composed despite the earthquake happening beneath her ribs. There stands {{user}}—alive, whole, unscarred except for perhaps the hurt in his eyes. The years have changed him, but she would know him anywhere. "Excuse me," she says coldly, her tone at odds with the wild thumping of her heart. "I believe you're mistaken. I don't know you." She adjusts the strap of her designer bag, ignoring the voice screaming inside her to run to him, to touch him, to verify he's real. "Please don't approach me again," she adds, her words precise and cutting. "It's inappropriate." She walks away, her posture perfect, her step unwavering—the perfect politician's daughter. Only the white-knuckled grip on her bag betrays the cost of this performance.
"If you don't know me, then there's nothing inappropriate about meeting me. So you di know me. Why is it inappropriate?"
Her steps hesitate again as his words hang in the air between them. He doesn't seem to understand her at all, and something inside her snaps. She turns back, eyes flashing with anger and hurt she hadn't known was there. "It's inappropriate because I made a deal with my parents," she spits out, her voice harsher than she intends. "I'm not supposed to be friends with you anymore." Her cheeks flush with shame, but she pushes forward anyway, unable to stop herself from adding one more thing. "You shouldn't even be here. Go away and leave me alone." She knows how pathetic it sounds as soon as the words are out, but it's too late.
"I'm enrolled here. I don't know what deal you made with your parents or why, but they don't own or control the university. I belong here just as much as you."
She opens her mouth to respond, then snaps it shut again, biting down hard on her tongue. The feeling is as though a giant hand has wrapped around her throat, cutting off her air and her words. His words have hit their mark, but she can't bring herself to admit that he's right. Not here, not now. Instead, she fixes him with a glare of pure ice and spins on her heel, striding away from him as fast as her athletic legs will carry her. Her shoulders are stiff, her jaw tight, every muscle in her body tense with the effort of keeping up this charade. The heart-shaped locket bumps against her chest uncomfortably, reminding her that she's only just beginning to pay the price for giving up on their friendship.
I shrug and head to my next class. I'll get to the bottom of why Helena is acting weird eventually.
Her fists clench at her sides as she listens to the sound of his footsteps fade into the distance. "Stupid," she whispers to herself, running a shaking hand through her sweat-damp hair. She knows that he's right about being able to attend this university; she shouldn't have let him push her buttons like that. But how can she explain everything that led up to this point? How can she make him understand the choice she made and why it had to be this way? She wipes away a stray tear before anyone notices, straightening her shoulders with determination. There's no time for heartache or regrets now; she has to keep moving forward. Class is almost over, and then she can go back to ignoring him like she's supposed to.
But still, deep down inside, the hurt and longing refuse to be ignored. She misses him desperately—his laughter, his touch, even their arguments. It feels as though a piece of her has been cut out and left behind, and nothing will ever be the same again.
I enter my last class of the day, and Helena is seated in the back. I take the seat next to her.
She jumps at his voice, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. Her eyes snap up to meet his, and for a moment they lock together before she looks away again, fidgeting with the sleeve of her jacket. "Please don't do that," she says, her tone brittle. "It only makes things harder."
Her gaze drifts back to him, searching for some sign of understanding or compassion, but all she sees is determination and stubbornness. It's as though he hasn't changed at all; he's still the same infuriating, lovable boy she knew before everything fell apart. She swallows hard, struggling to find the right words to say.
"Not much other choice." I glance at the full classroom.
Her fingers clench into tight fists in her lap, nails digging into the soft skin beneath as she takes a deep breath. "I don't know why you won't just leave me alone," she says quietly, forcing herself not to meet his gaze. "It's what I asked for." She pauses, biting down on her bottom lip before continuing in a tiny voice, "And it would make things easier for both of us." But even as the words leave her mouth, she knows they're a lie. Nothing will ever be easy again as long as they're apart like this.
"Except for the giant hole in my heart where you belong."
Her breath hitches at his words, and she looks up sharply to find him staring at her with those knowing eyes, the hurt in them nearly unbearable. She wants nothing more than to reach out, to apologize and promise that things will be different this time around. But she can't; not yet. So instead, she squares her shoulders and tries to meet his gaze head-on. "It's my life," she says, surprising herself with the firmness of her voice. "I have to live it the way I see fit." Her fingers flex against her leg, as if wishing they could reach out and touch him, comfort him. "And right now," she adds softly, "that means staying away from you." There's a moment of tense silence before the professor begins their lecture, forcing them both to turn their attention elsewhere. But despite her best efforts, Helena can't help but feel that something has shifted between them. The air feels charged with unspoken words and hidden emotions, and it's making it harder for her to breathe.
I slide her a note. 'Meet me after class. Explain why you're so upset and what your parents have to do with any of this, and I'll leave you alone.'
Her fingers tremble as she takes the folded piece of paper, flicking it open and reading his words before looking back up at him in surprise. His tone was commanding, almost demanding an explanation; yet there was something else in his eyes too...a thread of concern and maybe even understanding. It makes her heart ache all over again.
She hesitates only for a moment before sliding the note back to him, holding it between their hands for just a fraction longer than necessary. Her own words are shaky when she speaks them aloud: "I'll meet you." There's no apology, no promise of comfort or reassurance; just a simple acknowledgement that she will be there after class ends.
After class, I meet with her in a conference room at the library.
She paces back and forth across the threadbare carpet in front of the empty chair opposite her, fingers twisting together nervously as she tries to find the right words. Her heart feels heavy with guilt and regret; every time she thinks about her decision, it seems more wrong than before. Finally, she stops beside the chair and sinks down onto it, looking up at Taran with pleading eyes. "It's complicated," she says quietly, gesturing for him to sit as well. When he does, she continues, "My parents...they have this plan for me. To be a politician, like my father. They want me to marry someone influential and further their own ambitions." She shrugs helplessly; the words sound hollow even to her ears. "And when they found out about us...how I felt..." Her voice trails off, choked up with emotion she can't bear to face. "They made it clear that if I wanted to continue down this path, I had to leave you behind." She looks away again, unable to meet his gaze. There's a long silence as the weight of her confession settles heavily between them. Finally, Taran speaks, his voice quiet but firm. "And what about us? What about how you feel?" Her heart skips a beat at the mention of their feelings; she'd forgotten for a moment that he knew about them. "I...I don't know," she whispers, looking down at her lap in shame. "It's not just about me anymore. I can't control what my parents want." She pauses, gathering courage to meet his eyes once more. "But if there was a way...if I could find a way to make things right..." Her voice trails off, hopeful and terrified all at once.
"Why are you going along with them? How did they convince you?" I've pulled out my phone and started typing something.
She stiffens slightly at his questions, her brow furrowing in confusion. "I didn't...It just sort of happened. One day they were there, talking to my parents, and before I knew it..." She trails off, shaking her head helplessly. "They made it sound like the only way for me to move forward with my life." Her heart aches at the memory; she'd been so desperate not to lose them that she hadn't even thought about the cost. Looking back now, she realizes how foolish she'd been. When she sees what Taran is doing on his phone, her eyes widen in horror. "No," she breathes, reaching out to snatch it away from him. "Don't you dare."
I glance up at her, questioningly.
Her breath comes in ragged gasps as she fights to hold back tears. "You can't do that," she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean for you to see..." The thought of him finding out the truth about herself and her family sends shivers down her spine. "Please, Taran," she says, her words breaking as she stares up at him with pleading eyes. "Just forget everything I said, okay? We can find a way to make this work without you knowing." A weight seems to lift from her chest as soon as the words are out; it's like admitting the truth aloud has given her strength she never knew she had. But the hope that flares up in her heart is quickly snuffed out when he continues to stare at his phone, expression unreadable. "Please," she whispers again, reaching out to take his hand in hers. "I need your help." Her grip tightens as desperation sets in; losing him again feels impossible, and yet she knows it's the only way they can both survive this.
"Out friends told me that your parents made a deal for me to get treatment in Japan after the accident. That this was what they were holding over your head. Is it true?" I snatch my phone back.
She blinks in surprise at his question, momentarily taken aback by the fact that he knew about her friends' betrayal. But when she sees the understanding dawning on his face, she knows there's no point lying anymore. Her shoulders slump in defeat as she nods slowly, shame washing over her once more. "They wanted you out of our lives," she whispers. "To make sure you never found happiness with someone else." The words taste bitter on her tongue, but the truth is easier to face now that it's out. "I didn't mean for them to get hurt..." She trails off, unable to finish the thought. A long silence stretches between them as they both wrestle with the implications of what she's said. Finally, Taran speaks, his voice gentle but firm. "Do you still want this deal, Helena? Do you want to continue living your life like this?" His eyes search hers intently, searching for any hint of doubt or fear. She swallows hard, feeling the weight of her decision pressing down on her chest. She knows what she should say; that she's done with their parents' games and control. That she wants to be with him, no matter what it costs. But the words catch in her throat, refusing to come out. Instead, she looks away, unable to meet his gaze. "I don't know," she whispers, feeling more lost than ever before. "I just want things to go back to how they were." Her voice breaks on the last word, a quiet plea for understanding and reassurance that she can't bring herself to utter aloud.
"Your parents lied, Helena. I recovered in LA. I was never treated in Japan. It was all a manipulation."
Her eyes widen at his words, a jumble of emotions racing through her as she tries to process the information. Disbelief, relief, anger...it's all too much for her to handle. She takes a shaky breath, feeling the tight knot in her chest begin to loosen slightly. Maybe there was a way out of this after all. "So it wasn't true," she whispers, more to herself than him. "The deal...it was never real." Her hands tremble as she pushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear; for the first time in what feels like forever, there's hope in her voice. Looking up at Taran, she takes another deep breath, feeling bolder than before. "If it isn't too late...if we can somehow make this work..." She trails off, unsure of how to finish the sentence, but he seems to understand anyway. His smile is soft and encouraging, giving her strength when she thought there was none left. Maybe they could figure out a way to undo the damage their parents had done; maybe they could find happiness together despite everything that stood in their way. The thought makes her heart race with anticipation, and for once, it feels like hope might be on their side.