I sat in a corner of the library, my eyes fixed on the two figures not far away, sharing a pair of earbuds. A familiar stream of comments scrolled past the edge of my vision: [Chill, guys, Leo’s just helping her adjust the volume. He’s not even listening!] [That’s his childhood friend, Stella. They grew up together. He can’t just embarrass her!] I offered a faint smile, my gaze dropping back to the book in my lap. I didn't stop turning the pages. Every time Leo was with another girl, the comments would instantly pop up, a ghostly chorus rushing to explain away the misunderstanding. They told me he was just a man of few words. That his unreturned messages and cold silences were all just part of his way of loving me. But I've decided I don't want a man of few words anymore. … 1 We’d been dating for two years, and we didn't have a single photo together. Every time I suggested taking one, he'd say he didn't like putting his private life on display. And I believed him. After all, the comments were always there to back him up: [Leo’s the quiet, low-key type. It's true he hates photos, it’s not because he doesn’t care about our girl!] [The reason he never posts on his feed is because he has over a hundred candid photos of her saved on his phone!] Time and time again, I let those disembodied reassurances convince me to keep loving him. Until today. I watched with my own eyes as Leo took off his varsity jacket and draped it over Stella’s shoulders. Stella beamed. “Won’t your girlfriend get jealous?” Leo lit a cigarette, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “She won’t.” I was standing just around the corner, and I heard every word, crystal clear. The comments dutifully scrolled by, as if offering a comforting pat on the back. [He's doing this for our girl's own good! If he rejected Stella outright, she’d get suspicious about their relationship and ruin his plan to secretly protect Mia!] [He’s all bark and no bite! He just doesn’t want Mia to get a reputation for being petty and jealous!] I stepped out from my hiding spot. When Stella saw me, a flicker of mischief lit up her eyes. “Mia! You’re here! Want to grab dinner with us?” I shook my head, my voice flat. “No, thanks. I’m busy.” Leo glanced at me but said nothing. My hands were trembling as I walked out of the building, but the comments kept rolling. [Don’t go, sweetie! Leo was waiting for you to say something!] [Did you see the look in his eyes? He’s so heartbroken!] [I bet you anything he’s going to come and apologize tonight!] But I waited all night, and he said nothing. Instead, he reposted the voting link for Stella’s dance competition, complete with three little “Go for it!” emojis. In that instant, I felt like I had been demoted from his girlfriend to just another random follower on his feed. That night, I posted something on my own story. No words. Just a single photo. It was his varsity jacket, draped over the back of a chair in a deserted corner of the library. The comments on the post started pouring in. “Isn’t that Leo’s jacket? What’s it doing there?” But when I returned to the library the next morning, the jacket was still there, untouched. I almost laughed. The comments flickered to life again: [Leo was a wreck last night! He didn’t sleep a wink!] [He didn’t get the jacket on purpose! He wants our girl to realize he’s upset so she’ll come find him!] I sat down, carefully folded the jacket, and placed it in a paper bag. I stuck a sticky note on top: Here’s your stuff back. Don’t leave it with me again. The comments went berserk. [NO!!! MIA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!] [Don’t be mad anymore, he really, really loves you!!! AHHHHH—] I didn't look back. This time, I was betting on myself. Not the comments, not Leo. Just me. 2 That afternoon, I didn’t go to the restaurant he always took me to. I didn’t order his favorite spicy chicken ahead of time, like I usually did. I just went to the library by myself and studied all afternoon. It wasn't until dusk that my phone screen lit up. It was the first message from Leo all day. [Dinner tonight?] I glanced at it and didn’t reply. The comments immediately flooded my vision: [Answer him, sweetie! Leo's already backing down!] [Why are you playing hard to get now? It's a huge deal for Leo to message first!] [That’s just how guys are! They’re too proud to apologize, but this is his way of making up!] I turned off my phone screen and went back to my book. Not five minutes later, another message came in. [Where are you? I’ll pick you up.] I didn’t reply. I didn’t even open it. The notification light blinked for a while before finally going dark. That evening, I went for a run on the campus track. It was the first time I hadn't told him where I was going. I had just finished one lap when I heard someone call my name. “Mia.” I stopped and turned. Leo was standing on the edge of the track, wearing that familiar black windbreaker. He walked toward me, a bottle of water in his hand. “I thought you said your cold wasn’t better yet, that you weren’t going to run?” “I’m in a good mood today. Felt like a walk.” He frowned, handing me the water. “Is your throat still sore?” I took the bottle but didn’t open it. The comments popped up again: [He won’t say it, but he’s worried sick! He searched the entire campus just to find you!] [He's afraid to admit he's worried you'll think he's being too emotional. Ugh, why does Leo always live by these stupid, unspoken rules?] [Sweetie, don't be so cold to him. What if you break his heart…] I took a sip of water, my voice calm. “Did you need something?” He stared at me for a few seconds before asking, “Are you mad?” I didn’t answer. “Is it because of Stella?” I met his gaze. “Isn’t she your friend from childhood? What right do I have to be mad?” Leo was silent for a moment, then said in a low voice, “She’s not my type.” I let out a small, humorless laugh. “Then what is your type?” His eyes darted away. He didn't answer. I didn't press him. I just said softly, “If you don’t like her, then keep your distance. Don’t give people the wrong idea, and don’t embarrass me.” “You’ve always known we’re just friends,” he said, his voice stiff. “I haven’t done anything to cross the line.” “But it makes me uncomfortable,” I said, looking right at him. “Do you get that? It doesn’t matter if you cross a line. Just the sight of you standing next to her is enough to make me miserable.” A heavy silence fell between us. The comments were in a frenzy: [Leo, say something! Our girl has spelled it out for you!] [Holy crap, Leo, if you don’t explain yourself now, it’s going to be too late!] [He’s totally panicking inside, but he doesn’t know how to express it… Just give him a little more time!] I waited. But no response came. Leo just stood there, his expression a mask of restraint, as if he were fighting a battle with himself, or maybe just completely lost. And I suddenly realized, that was the problem between us. He was always used to silence, and I was always used to speaking for him. Used to believing the voices of the comments, instead of the truth of his silence. I didn't reply to any more of his messages that night. And he didn't try to contact me again. Until two in the morning, when I saw her new post. It was a selfie from Stella. She was on the outdoor patio of a quiet, off-campus bar. Candlelight flickered in the photo as she flashed a peace sign at the camera. The top comment was glowing: [The person taking the pic is Leo, right? I get it, I get it~] I stared at it for a few seconds, then tossed my phone aside. The comments were still there, working overtime to explain it all away: [Leo wasn’t even looking at Stella! He’s just using her to make you jealous!] [Don't believe the picture, he didn't even take it! He was just passing by!] [He was sitting there thinking about you! He’s still waiting for you to back down first!] I stared up at the ceiling and slowly closed my eyes. After a while, you hear so many excuses that you just go numb. No matter how real they sound, they lose all their power. 3 The day after the exam, I was summoned by the dean’s office. They said my test paper had an unusually high similarity rate with Stella’s and required further investigation. In that moment, all I could feel was the biting irony. I was top of my class in every single one of my major courses. Why on earth would I need to copy from a girl who spent all her time filming dance videos and had never once shown up to an 8 a.m. lecture? When the day of the meeting came, I went alone. As soon as I pushed open the door, I saw Leo sitting inside, right next to Stella. The professor looked at me, his tone sharp. “Mia, have a seat. We’ve called you here today because Ms. Vance has reported you for cheating on the exam.” My world shrank. I looked at Stella. She had an expression of pure, innocent distress, but her voice was firm. “I’m not trying to target her, but I noticed her paper was just like mine. It could be a coincidence, or… she could have looked.” I scoffed. “Are you sure you weren’t the one looking at my paper?” Stella flinched as if I’d struck her. “That’s not what I meant… How can you be so vicious?” I turned to Leo. He said nothing. His eyes were downcast, as if he were deep in thought, or maybe just trying to escape. The comments materialized on cue: [Don’t blame him! Leo’s holding back so he doesn’t make Stella resent you more!] [He’s waiting for everyone to leave so he can comfort our girl in private!] [Mia, don't misunderstand! If he spoke up now, it would only make your situation more awkward!] I stared at his face for a long time, until the professor asked, “Do you have anything to add?” Leo spoke slowly, his voice measured. “…I didn't see Mia cheat. But I can't rule out the possibility that the high similarity score is her own responsibility.” The room fell silent. My ears rang as if I’d been struck by lightning. Stella lowered her head, hiding a triumphant little smile. The professor nodded. “For now, we’ll record this as ‘suspected academic dishonesty.’ You’ll submit a written self-criticism, and your next exam will be proctored under full surveillance. If a similar issue arises, it will be permanently noted on your academic record.” My fingertips were ice-cold as I walked out of that office. The comments scrolled past my ears, one after another: [Leo didn’t mean it! They forced him to say it!] [He would never hurt you! This is all part of his strategy!] [He's sacrificing you this one time so you won't be truly suspected later! It’s for your own good!] What I didn’t know was that after I left, Stella tugged on Leo’s sleeve, feigning distress. “The way you spoke just now… she’s definitely going to misunderstand you.” Leo didn’t say a word. Stella leaned in closer, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “If she dares to pick a fight with you over this, I’ll be the first to say you deserve better.” “You deserve so much better.” He didn't push her away. And I, through the glass wall of the dean’s office, saw her hand rest on his shoulder. That night, I posted again. No words. Just a picture of a sheet of paper, filled with my handwritten apology. Someone asked in the comments if I’d been set up. Someone else shared it, saying, “Even the top students stumble sometimes.” Only Leo… He liked the post, then quickly unliked it. As always, the comments rushed to his defense: [Leo was just afraid that liking it would be seen as taking sides! He totally screenshotted it and looks at it every day!] [He liked and then unliked it so you wouldn’t get cyberbullied! He’s just pretending to be cold to protect you!] I put my phone on silent and turned off all notifications. I knew then that some things weren’t worth waiting for an explanation. The next morning, Leo found me and said he wanted to have breakfast with me. I told him no, I was going to the library to study. “I’ll walk you.” “No, thanks. I want to be alone.” He frowned, watching me for a long time, but in the end, he didn’t press. He just turned and walked away. But as I watched him go, I saw that his shoulders were relaxed. As if he’d finally been freed from the burden of performing an emotional role he never wanted. That night, Stella posted a photo from a trendy Japanese restaurant near campus. She was wearing new earrings, and the caption read: “Thanks for celebrating with me, Leo.” The comments were a flood of “Get together!” and “You two are so cute!” I stared at the picture for a long time, my phone growing hot in my hand, my fingertips cold. The comments were still there: [Don’t believe her post! Leo didn’t even eat anything, he was just passing by!] [He was only with her as a favor! He only has eyes for you!] [Mia, don’t be rash! Don’t misunderstand Leo again…] This time, I didn’t even look at the comments. I just quietly deleted the post he had never truly liked. And cleared the chat history he had never truly answered. It was time he got a taste of what it felt like to be completely erased.
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