Outscored, Outclassed, Out of Her Heart

Four years into our long-distance relationship, I am on a video call with my girlfriend, Vivian Selby, when her study partner, Sam Caldecott, walks into the frame. He presses his lips together before saying, "Ryan, Vivian still hasn't finished her practice questions yet." I freeze for a second, and before I can tell him we'll only talk for ten minutes, he speaks again. "Oh, by the way, I deleted those celebrity gossip articles you sent her earlier. They're nothing but distractions that keep her from her work." He smiles faintly and adds, "Hope you don't mind." Vivian lowers her head and keeps flipping through her textbook without saying a word. I sit there in shock, thinking about all the things I've sent her before—sunset photos, pictures of street food, and the new game console I bought. She's never replied to any of them. So, they've all been deleted before she even sees them. My chest tightens, and a suffocating heaviness settles over me. Vivian finally looks up and says, "Sam was just trying to help keep me focused. There's nothing wrong with that." Sam suddenly leans close to the screen and lowers his voice. "I heard your SAT score wasn't exactly impressive, while Vivian was one of the top scorers." He pauses, as if choosing his words carefully. "She always says she wants to go to grad school in the same city as you. But given the gap between you two, she has to make compromises and lower her expectations." After saying that, he steps back beside Vivian and gently pats her on the shoulder, saying, "Don't worry. I'll be here with you." Vivian turns her head and nods at him. The look in her eyes is warm and natural, as if she has long been used to having him by her side. My throat tightens. A suffocating pressure slowly builds in my chest. "Get some rest early then," I say, forcing myself to stay composed before ending the call. I stare at the last message I sent her. "It's raining today. Don't forget to put on a jacket." There's still no reply. But this silence isn't new. It is the same silence I've grown used to over the past four years. It turns out she's always there, just never for me.