Chapter 1

The acceptance letters lay side by side on my desk, two perfect symbols of our future. NYU for me, NYU for David. We' d spent four years of high school working for this, our shared dream of studying architecture in the heart of New York City.

Our whole lives were planned.

I was in my room, packing a box of books, when I heard David' s voice from the living room. He was on the phone, his tone low and excited. I smiled, thinking he was talking to one of his friends about our plans.

"Yeah, man, I' m so stoked. California is going to be insane."

I froze, the heavy textbook in my hands suddenly feeling weightless. California?

"No, she has no idea," he laughed. It was a cold sound, one I' d never heard from him before. "I' m telling her tonight. I can' t do it anymore. The clinginess, the constant needing to know where I am... I need to be free."

The textbook dropped from my hands and hit the floor with a loud thud.

The living room went silent.

A moment later, David appeared in my doorway, his phone still in his hand. The smile was gone from his face, replaced by a cold annoyance. He didn't look surprised. He looked caught.

"You heard," he said. It wasn' t a question.

My whole body felt numb. I couldn' t form words. I just stared at him, at the boy I had loved since we were kids, the boy who held my future in his hands and was now crushing it without a second thought.

"It' s not what you think," he started, but the lie was weak, even to his own ears.

I finally found my voice, a small, broken sound. "UCLA? You' re going to UCLA?"

"I' m going to study film," he said, his chin lifting with a hint of defiance. "It' s what I' ve always wanted to do."

"What about architecture? What about NYU? What about us?" The questions tumbled out, each one feeling more desperate than the last.

"I' m tired, Sarah," he said, his voice flat. "I' m tired of you. I need space to be my own person."

The words hit me harder than any physical blow. Tired of me. Clingy. For years, I had thought my devotion was what he wanted. I organized our study schedules, I made sure he met his application deadlines, I was his biggest cheerleader. I thought that was love.

To him, it was a cage.

The shock began to recede, replaced by a wave of grief so powerful it buckled my knees. It was like watching a tidal wave approach in slow motion. You see it coming, you know it will destroy everything, but you' re powerless to stop it.

I didn' t cry. I didn' t scream. I just stood there, letting the silence swallow us.

He shifted uncomfortably, unable to meet my eyes. He was a coward. He hadn' t planned to tell me; he had planned to let me find out after it was too late to change anything.

I walked past him, my movements stiff and robotic. I went to my desk and picked up his NYU acceptance letter. His name, David Chen, stared up at me. A promise. A lie.

I looked at him, my eyes finally clear. The boy I loved wasn' t standing in my room. A stranger was. A manipulative, selfish stranger.

"Get out," I said. My voice was steady, cold.

He looked surprised, maybe even a little hurt. As if he expected me to beg.

"Sarah..."

"Get out of my house, David."

I turned my back on him, a final dismissal. I heard him hesitate, then the sound of his footsteps retreating. The front door opened and closed.

And I was alone.

I sank to the floor, my back against my bed. The tears finally came, hot and silent. It wasn' t just a breakup. It was the demolition of my entire world. He hadn' t just left me; he had made me feel like I was the reason he was leaving. He had made me the villain in our story.

I looked at my own NYU letter. The dream was now a nightmare.

But a tiny, hard kernel of something started to form in my chest. It wasn' t hope. It was anger.

He thought I was clingy. He thought I couldn't survive without him.

I would go to NYU. I would study architecture. And I would prove him wrong.

Even if it killed me.