Summer nights in Rowan City were loud and overlit, soaked in neon and false glamour. The streets glared with electric color, bars humming until the hour crept late enough for the air to cool and the last stubborn patrons to drift out into the night. Inside the quiet bar, the music had softened to a dull thrum, as if even it had grown tired.
Noah braced one hand against the edge of the table and coughed hard, the sound tearing out of him in rough bursts. His stomach churned violently, threatening to bring up everything he had eaten that day, including the half bottle of beer he had forced down only minutes earlier.
He couldn't drink. He never could. Alcohol burned too sharp and settled wrong in his gut, but tonight he'd poured it down anyway, stubborn and childish, like someone trying to imitate adulthood by borrowing its worst habits. He had thought that if he could just get drunk enough, if he could blur everything into nothing, it would be easier to breathe.
An hour earlier, he had finally said it.
The breakup.
He had said it cleanly, decisively, without leaving himself any room to retreat.
Lila hadn't tried to stop him.
She had frowned, her delicate brows knitting together in disbelief and anger, the kind that flared fast and bright. Shock flickered there too, but she never let it show for long. Instead, she leaned into her fury, sharp and proud, as if convinced he would regret it the moment the words left his mouth, or certain that he didn't truly mean them.
"Say that again," she snapped. "You're breaking up with me?"
Then, before he could answer, her voice rose, cutting and cold. "Fine. That's great, Noah. Don't come crawling back. There are plenty of people who like me."
She had laughed, bitter and loud. "If you're going to be like this, remember one thing. I dumped you. You hear me? If you want out, I don't care either."
She had asked him out that afternoon to go shopping together. She'd worn an off-the-shoulder summer dress with delicate cutouts and light sandals that showed off her ankles, her makeup soft and pretty, carefully done. She had looked beautiful, effortlessly so.
And for the first time, it hadn't moved him.
Instead of the familiar tug in his chest, the warmth he used to feel just looking at her, what came out of his mouth had been a simple, unyielding goodbye.
From the moment they met to the moment they first held hands, eighteen years had passed. From falling in love to ending it, barely two.
Lila lived across the hall from him. She was the daughter of his father's closest friend, and the two families had been intertwined for more than twenty years. Dinners together, holidays together, favors exchanged without counting. When they were children, someone had jokingly mentioned marriage, and the joke had lingered long enough to turn into expectation.
In an age that prided itself on free love and personal choice, talk of family arrangements sounded outdated, even ridiculous. Still, for as long as Noah could remember, Lila had occupied a strange place in his life. She had always felt like a little sister to him, someone he was told to watch over, to protect. His parents had said it so often that it became habit.
And so twenty years passed in small collisions and reconciliations, in familiarity mistaken for destiny.
That was why, when Lila confessed her feelings, he had leaned toward her instead of away. That was why he had tried again and again to satisfy her whims, bending himself into whatever shape she wanted.
Through thirteen years of school, everyone knew they were a pair. As long as their grades didn't slip, teachers pretended not to notice. It was as if the whole world had already decided for him that this was how things were supposed to be.
He didn't even know, deep down, whether Lila was his girlfriend or his sister, whether what he felt was affection or obligation.
But when everyone insisted on labeling them the same way, he had followed along.
Only Evelyn had told him differently.
She had told him he didn't have to sacrifice his future to please anyone. That he didn't owe his life to expectations. That he was allowed to choose for himself.
He hadn't listened.
He had been drawn to Lila's beauty once. She was undeniably pretty, the kind of girl people noticed the moment she entered a room. After middle school, she had been openly acknowledged as the prettiest girl in their grade, the one boys whispered about when they thought no one was listening.
Even Noah, who had known her his entire life, couldn't deny how striking she had become.
And yet, everyone who had ever met Evelyn, himself included, knew the truth. Evelyn was something else entirely, beautiful in a way that felt distant and untouchable, like a presence rather than an appearance.
The only reason Lila ever wore the title of campus beauty was because Evelyn was several years ahead of them.
This year marked Noah and Lila's second year at Rowan University, and their second year officially together.
He had spent his entire life accommodating Lila, giving and giving until the weight of it pressed down on his shoulders without mercy. The exhaustion never really left anymore; it only deepened.
He had believed she would grow up. That she would learn to give back.
But even today, after a long shift working part-time in the campus cafeteria that left him drained and sore, he had received her message asking him to buy her milk tea. She had expected him to deliver breakfast to her door before his seven a.m. shift, to show up at night when he had finally managed to rest, just because she wanted company.
Lila didn't think she was wrong.
Or rather, she had never considered the possibility.
Noah was tired. Bone-deep tired. Whatever people talked about when they described the beauty of college life felt distant and dull to him now. All he wanted was something lighter, something easier, even if only for one night.
Tomorrow would bring its own problems. How to explain everything to his mother. How to keep the peace between the two families. How to face Lila again. And, absurdly, what to do about the calculus assignment he hadn't finished.
He hoped he wouldn't sleep through his alarm and miss his morning shift.
He sent Evelyn a message.
It was late, and he knew it was wrong to disturb her, but his head spun, hunger clawed at his stomach, and he had nothing left to give. The bar was quiet now, the low background noise fading until even the lights seemed blurry. He felt himself tipping, barely holding on, unwilling to make things harder for her when she arrived.
Evelyn was their advanced calculus instructor, and she was his sister. She had been adopted into the family before he was born.
From the moment he entered the world, she had been unfailingly gentle with him, her care so tender it bordered on indulgence. For twenty years she had filled the spaces his mother couldn't, offering warmth and stability while work pulled Laura in every direction.
Even in college, most of his tuition and living expenses came from Evelyn. The rest he earned working shifts at the cafeteria.
His father had died fifteen years earlier after a long illness, and their family finances had collapsed overnight. His mother worked tirelessly, traveling constantly, leaving home before sunrise and returning long after dark.
Lila's family had helped them materially more than once.
Still, there were limits. Laura had her pride. She accepted help when necessary and repaid it when she could.
When Laura was away, Lila's family often invited Noah and Evelyn over for dinner. Evelyn always urged Noah to go while politely declining herself. After one or two visits, he stopped going too. He didn't know why Evelyn refused, but if she didn't want to go, he wanted to stay with her and eat their simple meals together.
His head spun harder.
Noah swayed, his legs weakening beneath him. He shook his head in a futile attempt to stay awake and looked up to find Evelyn seated across from him, though he couldn't remember when she'd arrived.
"Sis… you're here," he murmured.
"If I don't come pick up my kid, who will?" Evelyn said lightly as she helped him up. "You're this drunk and not worried about getting taken advantage of?"
"Evelyn…" His voice slurred. "I'm sorry. I've made trouble again."
She smiled softly. "What nonsense. When have you ever been trouble to me?"
She guided him outside and into the back of a taxi. The moment the door closed, exhaustion pulled him under. Whether from alcohol or sheer fatigue, his consciousness slipped away, his body slumping sideways until his head rested against Evelyn's lap.
Half-asleep, he heard her voice near his ear, gentle and reassuring.
"Get some rest," she whispered. "I'm here. You don't have to worry about anything. You don't have to be afraid."
The last thing he saw before sleep claimed him fully was her face, beautiful and luminous even in the dim light of the street, impossibly so.