Mga Maiikling Kuwento at Nobelang Melodramatic Campus Independence

Zach Shaw and I had been in a long-distance relationship for four years when his study partner, Amy Lewis, appeared in the frame during our video call. Amy pursed her lips together and said, "Megan, Zach still hasn't finished today's homework yet." I froze. I had just wanted to say we would only talk for ten minutes when Amy cut in again. "By the way, I filtered out the celebrity gossip you sent him today. He gets distracted as soon as he sees it, and he's only half as effective then." She tilted her head and then said in an innocent tone. "You won't blame me for meddling, will you?" Zach looked down and flipped through his book without saying anything. I was once again stunned. I thought of the sunset photos, the street food stalls, and the pictures of new dresses I had sent him, the ones he had never answered. She had cleared them all away. A heavy weight settled in my chest. Zach finally raised his hand. "Amy helps me sort my messages. It's a good thing." Amy leaned closer to the screen and lowered her voice. "I heard you only scored 1,200 on the SAT, but Zach scored 1,400..." She paused, as if she was figuring out her words. "He always says he wants to go to grad school in the same city as you, but your scores are so far apart. He has to lower his standards for you." Then, she stepped back to Zach's side and patted his shoulder. "Work hard. I'm here with you." Zach looked up and nodded at her. His expression was soft and natural, as if they had already gotten used to standing next to each other. My throat tightened, and I felt my chest slowly becoming tighter and tighter. "Get some rest, then," I said as I forced myself to keep my pride and ended the call. My phone screen still showed the last message I had sent him. [It's raining today. Remember to wear something warm.] There was no reply. Just like the past four years. So, he had not been absent at all. I was the absent one.

My roommate Sue Lynd had gotten addicted to the tiramisu that went viral lately, and always brought a box back to our room every evening. She always kept telling us how smooth and sweet it tasted, but I never cared for it, until the day before the announcement of postgraduate admissions. I was reviewing past exam papers when I saw the lines scribbled on the sheet. [Your roommate Sue Lynd will ask you to get her tiramisu tonight, and then she will leave the room in a hurry.] [The next day, the cops will arrest you for premeditated bodily harm, and you will be exposed on the internet for poisoning your roommate, drawing public outrage.] [You will miss your postgraduate admission interview, after which that spot falls to Sue.] [The cyberviolence won't stop, with even your parents losing their livelihoods, while you die from mental breakdown and severe depression.] I threw the sheet aside—must be seeing things since my stress had been building up. However, as evening arrived, Sue entered the room, asking in her melodious voice, "Can you get me tiramisu, Zoe?" My brain short-circuited for a moment—the scribble was actually prophetic?! As Sue smiled sweetly and leaned close, I felt the creeps because the most important part of those scribbles still weighed heavily on my mind: [You will miss your postgraduate admission interview, after which that spot falls to Sue.] She wants to destroy my life over a spot at postgraduate admission? My fingers clenched around my pen, and I replied, "Sorry. Can't do."