Tangled

Day ten of my cold war with Barry Saun also happened to be our third dating anniversary.

Then I saw it—his new post. Him and Lyla Bianca, tangled in a kiss, his eyes full of devotion.

And just like that, the weight on my chest lifted.

I quietly submitted my study abroad application.

[Submission Successful.]

My stomach twisted, emotions all over the place.

Right then, my friend showed up with my custom cake. She pressed a hand to my forehead, relieved my fever was gone—until she spotted my application. Her eyes went wide.

"Barry finally agreed to go with you? I told you—he loves you! You guys are getting married?"

I shook my head.

Meeting her startled gaze, I calmly replied, "I only submitted my own. I'm going alone."

She froze, staring at me like I'd grown a second head.

Couldn't blame her. For three years, my whole world revolved around Barry. If he didn't want to do something, I wouldn't even consider it.

My gaze dropped to the cake in her hands. After a beat, I took it.

Barry and I needed closure.

As I grabbed my coat, my friend sighed. "Wear something warmer. You just got over a cold—don't make yourself sick again."

I smiled and nodded, pulling my coat tighter before heading to his dorm.

Halfway there, a little boy ran past, giggling—then bam, straight into me.

I stumbled. The cake flew from my hands, hit the ground, and the lid popped open.

The kid froze, pulled a goofy face, then bolted into the crowd.

I stared at the mess, a lump rising in my throat.

Almost without thinking, I reached for my phone to call Barry.

But then—I saw him.

And he wasn't alone.

A girl in a flowing white dress stood beside him. She looked a little like me, but softer, more delicate.

Lyla.

She held an ice cream cone, cheeks flushed as Barry leaned in, whispering something. She dipped her head shyly.

He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Then he kissed her forehead.

Everything around me blurred.

They melted into the crowd, but the sharp sting in my chest stayed.

A tear slid down, landing on the ruined cake.

People glanced my way as I crouched down, hands shaking, trying to scoop the broken pieces back into the box.

Someone finally spoke. "Miss, that cake's trashed. If you really like it, just buy another one."