Lena's transfer letter arrived on a Tuesday.
I intercepted it before campus mail could deliver it to Kieran's dorm, slipping the envelope into my purse with a quiet thrill. The paper smelled like administrative sterility and surrender.
*Goodbye, Lena.*
That evening, I cooked dinner at Kieran's apartment—something simple but elegant, the way I'd taught him to prefer. He stood in the doorway watching me, his sleeves rolled up to reveal the delicate silver watch I'd given him last month.
"You're quiet today," I observed, stirring the risotto.
He hesitated. "Lena left."
The wooden spoon stilled in my hand. I didn't turn around. "Oh?"
"Transferred to State." His voice was carefully neutral. "She didn't tell me."
I turned then, letting my expression soften into something resembling sympathy. "I'm sorry."
Kieran stared at the floor. "Don't be."
*Perfect answer.*
---
I began the slow process of erasing her completely.
Her contact in his phone became a black void. Her favorite coffee shop "coincidentally" closed for renovations. The bench where they used to study together was suddenly repainted—a gift from the Voss family to the university, how *generous*.
Kieran noticed none of it.
Instead, he noticed how my perfume lingered on his sheets. How I always remembered his new coffee order (black, one sugar—no more of that sickly sweet creamer Lena used to tease him about). How his professors suddenly seemed more impressed with his work.
*Funny how that happens when your last name gets mentioned in the right circles.*
---
The first time he said "I love you," it was midnight, and his mouth was against my throat.
We lay tangled in his bed, the moonlight painting stripes across our skin. His fingers traced idle patterns down my spine as I pretended to sleep.
"Elara?" His whisper was barely audible.
I kept my breathing even.
A pause. Then, softer: *"I love you."*
My heart stuttered—not from affection, but from *victory*.
I waited three full minutes before pretending to stir. "Hmm?"
Kieran pressed his lips to my shoulder. "Nothing. Go back to sleep."
But I could feel it in the way he held me tighter afterward.
*Mine.*
---
Graduation approached like a coronation.
Kieran's family—middle-class and painfully ordinary—gaped at our reserved seats near the podium. His mother kept touching the embroidered Voss crest on his gown sleeve as if she couldn't believe it was real.
"You've changed so much," she murmured to him.
Kieran smiled, his hand finding mine. "For the better."
I squeezed back, letting my engagement ring catch the light.
*Just wait until you see what's next.*