26

Arlyn

I kept waiting for him after the incident with the boys.

That was the cruelest part, the way I eagerly watched out for him in class or how I moved back into my apartment expecting to run into him since we were practically neighbors.

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I walked into the lecture hall five minutes early and took my usual seat, my heart doing that stupid hopeful thing even though my brain somehow knew better.

I would scan the front of the room, half-expecting to see Reid standing there again.

But he never showed up.

At first, I told myself it was a scheduling thing. PhD students were busy. He’d probably show up next lecture. Or the one after that.

By the end of the second week, denial stopped working. He was never coming to fill in for the ill professor again.

A new lecturer had taken over. Older and soft-spoken with kind eyes. He fumbled with the projector and joked nervously about not being as intimidating as the Ph.D. student before him, and the whole class roared with laughter.

I didn’t.

I just sat there, fingers curled tightly around my pen, trying to listen while my disappointment pounded painfully on my heart.

Reid hadn’t just put distance between us.

He’d removed himself entirely.

I tried to catch him elsewhere on campus. I lingered outside buildings I knew he frequented. I took longer routes between classes. I even walked past the café near the research wing where I’d once seen him working on something, probably his thesis.

Nothing.

It was like he’d evaporated.

Eventually, desperation nudged me somewhere I hadn’t planned on going… the administrative block. I told myself I was being practical. If Reid had stopped lecturing, there had to be a reason. A paper trail. Something.

I stood at the counter, palms damp, and asked the question as casually as I could.

“Oh—um… Reid Branderton? The PhD student who was covering lectures earlier this semester?”

The woman behind the desk clicked her mouse a few times. “He applied to be replaced.”

My stomach dropped.

“Replaced?”

“Yes. He cited scheduling conflicts. The request was approved last week.”

Approved last week.

Around the time he’d saved me.

I thanked her numbly and turned away before she could say anything else. The hallway felt too long, too bright. My thoughts tangled over each other, messy and loud.

He’d chosen to run away.

Again.

Why did he do this every time?

I was pushing through the exit doors when I nearly collided with someone. I swung around angrily, ready to snap at the offender, my foul mood driving me on.

“Arlyn?”

I froze.

Liam.

Of course it was Liam.

He stood there looking… different. Less polished somehow. His smile was tentative, his posture unsure, like he wasn’t quite confident he was allowed to occupy the same space as me anymore.

“Hi,” I said automatically, turning around to walk away. I wanted nothing to do with him.

“Wow,” he breathed, jogging after me. “I didn’t think I’d ever run into you like this… Come on, Arlyn, hold up.”

There was an awkward beat. Then another.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he said. “I know you probably don’t want to hear anything I have to say, but—”

“I really don’t have time,” I cut in, my patience wearing thin by the day and already unraveling.

He winced. “Please. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

He kept on barraging me with pleas until I started feeling uncomfortable.

I hesitated.

We were in a public place in broad daylight, and people were beginning to pay attention. The last thing I wanted was to become campus gossip.

“Fine,” I said. “Five minutes… that's the best I can offer you.”

He exhaled in relief. “There’s a café around the corner. Can we sit?”

I should have said no, but I had already agreed to give him a bit of my time, so where was the harm?

The café was warm and busy, the comforting kind of noisy that made private conversations feel less exposed. We placed our orders, tea for me and coffee for him, and took a small table near the window.

“I’ll start by saying this,” Liam said, wrapping his hands around his cup. “I was a jerk. To you. To us. I don’t expect forgiveness. I was drunk, and I have no other excuse for my actions.”

I stayed quiet.

“I didn’t realize what I had until I lost it,” he continued. “I know that sounds cliché, but it’s the truth. I’ve done a lot of thinking. A lot of growing up.”

“That happened fast,” I said dryly.

He nodded. “Pain has a way of speeding things up.”

I studied him carefully, looking for the cracks. The arrogance. The defensiveness.

I didn’t see them.

“I’m not asking you to come back to me,” he said quickly. “I just wanted you to know that what we had meant something. It still does—to me. And I’m sorry I hurt you. And I would be grateful if we could remain friends.”

Something inside me loosened.

Not enough to trust him again.

But enough to listen.

We talked longer than five minutes. About school. About how weird life felt when plans fell apart. He admitted he’d started therapy. He admitted he’d been scared of commitment and self-sabotaged instead of dealing with it.

And annoyingly, infuriatingly, I found myself enjoying the conversation.

He listened. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t make excuses.

When we finally stood to leave, my chest felt lighter than it had all day.

“Thank you for giving me a chance to say that,” he said.

I nodded. “Take care of yourself, Liam.”

“You too, Arlyn.”

When I got home, the silence felt different.

Less oppressive.

But my thoughts still drifted traitorously towards Reid.

To his absence.

To the way he’d stepped in without hesitation and then vanished like he’d never existed at all.

By the time Jane got back, I’d already made up my mind.

I couldn’t keep carrying this load alone. It was slowly driving me into the ground.

She found me curled up on the couch, knees pulled to my chest, staring at nothing.

“That bad, huh?” She said softly, throwing herself down on the opposite couch and withdrawing a can of Dr. Pepper from her bag.

“I need to tell you something,” I began.

Her teasing expression vanished instantly. She sat beside me, replacing the drink back in her tote bag and reaching for my hand. “Okay. I’m listening.”

And so I told her.

About Reid. About how it wasn’t just attraction or confusion but something deeper, messier, and even terrifying. About how he avoided me like I was dangerous and how that somehow hurt more than anger would have.

I told her about the paternity test.

Her breath caught. “Wait. You mean that—”

“That Reid and I are related,” I said. “Yes.”

Jane’s eyes widened. “Arlyn—”

“My mom says it was forged,” I continued. “She claims someone tampered with the results. Reid doesn’t believe her. He refuses to disregard them.”

Jane stared at me. “Holy shit.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” I whispered. “All I know is that everything feels like it’s built on unstable ground.”

“And Liam?” she asked gently.

“I ran into him today. He apologized. Sincerely. I actually… enjoyed talking to him.”

She leaned back, processing. “And how did that make you feel?”

“Confused,” I admitted. “Because it should have felt like closure. But all it did was highlight how different it feels with Reid.”

Jane squeezed my hand. “You’re in love with him.”

The words hit hard.

I didn’t deny them.

“I think he’s running because he’s scared,” I said. “And I don’t know if I should chase him or let him go.”

Jane was quiet for a long moment.

“Reid isn’t a coward,” she said finally. “But he is deeply damaged. And people like that don’t run from danger… they run from happiness.”

Tears burned my eyes.

“So what do I do?”

She smiled sadly. “You tell the truth. And then you let him decide if he’s brave enough to meet you halfway.”

I nodded hesitantly, my heart pounding with equal parts fear and hope.

Because for the first time since everything fell apart, I wasn’t running.

And maybe, just maybe this time, maybe he won't either.