1 That evening was the eighteenth time Mark refused to meet me at my dorm. Frustrated, I nudged his chest; he tapped my forehead. “My time’s valuable, Iris. Could’ve read two journal articles waiting for you.” He checked his watch. “Six minutes, twenty-six seconds late. Date ends six minutes early.” Later, Jenny grumbled, “Next time I’m telling him off—he can’t treat you like this.” I forced a smile. “That’s just Mark. Hates waiting.” Before our next date, I cut my finger bandaging it took longer. His text popped up: One minute late. Date canceled. My time’s too valuable. Gripping the bleeding cut, a sharp ache bloomed in my chest. Then Jenny sent a video: Mark stood outside Fiona’s dorm. “Sorry!” Fiona panted. He smiled, fanning her with his notebook. “No rush,” he murmured softly. “Only waited twenty minutes—caught up on reading.” A tear hit my screen, blurring his face. I wiped it, downloaded the major transfer form, submitted it, then applied for the university’s confidential wilderness expedition. At the top of my chat with Jenny, the status flickered. Typing... then disappearing, then typing... again. Finally, her message popped up. I didn't want to tell you this, but once when I was working my shift at the bistro downtown, I saw Mark sitting alone at a table. He waited for almost two hours. The food went completely cold. Fiona finally showed up, completely rushed, but he wasn't angry at all. He just smiled. I remembered our second anniversary clearly. The restaurant had been backed up, and our main course took too long, pushing past the strict time slot he had allotted for our dinner. Without a word, Mark had stood up and walked out, leaving me sitting alone at the table with the bill. Jenny's next text arrived: And another time at the amusement park, I happened to be standing right behind them in line for the famous Ferris wheel. The line took almost two hours. He spent the entire time fanning her and feeding her snacks. Mark loathed lines more than anything. I had begged him a dozen times to go on that very Ferris wheel with me, but he had dismissed me coldly every single time. I used to think it was just his rigid personality. But it wasn't. He just didn't want to bend for me. Seeing no reply, Jenny sent another message: Iris? Are you okay? My fingers trembled as I typed back: I'm fine. Thanks for telling me. I set the phone down, finalized my transfer application, and emailed it directly to our department advisor. Mark and Fiona were the golden students of our department, mentored closely by our dean. By their junior year, both had secured fast-track PhD offers. They were the acknowledged prodigies of the lab. Meanwhile, I had spent an entire grueling year retaking my college entrance exams just to get into the same university to stand by his side. My screen lit up with a message from Mark, accompanied by a screenshot of two movie tickets. Fiona's having a rough day and wants to catch a movie. If you want to join, I'll buy a third ticket. If he truly wanted me there, why hadn't he just bought three to begin with? In our three-person group chat, Fiona sent a pleading emoji: Iris, please come with us? I really need a distraction. I typed back: I'm a bit tired. I'll pass. Within seconds, Mark privately messaged me: Iris, stop being petty. I stared at the harsh letters on the screen. This isn't on me, Mark wrote. Fiona has been practically living in the lab for two weeks. She's exhausted. Is it really that hard for you to just be there for her and watch a movie? I squeezed my phone until my knuckles turned stark white. When my hand was bleeding, he hadn't offered a single word of concern. But the moment Fiona mentioned a bad mood, he rearranged his entire day. Mark lived in his lab. To get him to agree to this movie date, I had begged him for a month. I had even created a color-coded schedule, planned down to the minute, promising I wouldn't waste a single second of his precious time. Only Fiona's exhaustion mattered. My boundaries were always labeled as moody tantrums. A bitter, burning ache rose in my throat. I typed out a slow, quiet reply: Don't worry. It won't happen again. He didn't reply. I pushed the hurt down and buried myself in study guides for the transfer exam. Late in the evening, when my eyes were burning from fatigue, a message popped up in our group chat. Mark: Come down to the dining hall. I got you a gift. Despite everything, my heart betrayed me, skipping a beat. I practically ran down the stairs, arriving at the dining hall breathless. Mark stood there, shoving a massive, plush teddy bear into my arms before reaching out to pinch my cheek. "Do you like it?" Clutching the giant toy, my chest fluttered. Then Fiona slung an arm over my shoulder, playfully nudging my hip. "Mark and I entered that couple's carrying contest on the campus plaza. We had to hold on for thirty minutes to win that thing! I am absolutely exhausted." The smile froze on my face. A couple's carrying contest? Where he had to hold her in his arms? Mark scoffed, though his eyes were warm. "You have no right to complain. I was the one carrying your entire weight." "Hey, keeping my balance and holding on tight takes a lot of core strength too!" Fiona shot back, giggling. They fell into an easy, teasing banter, completely ignoring me as a cold shiver ran down my spine. Mark had always detested public displays of affection with me. Once, I had playfully hugged him from behind on campus, only for him to pull my hands away with a cold, disapproving scold. I tossed the plush bear onto the nearest table and turned on my heel. Mark stepped quickly to block my path, his brow furrowing. "What's wrong with you? Don't you like the bear?" Fiona stood frozen, looking worried. "Iris, did I say something wrong?" I shook my head and looked Mark dead in the eye. "Meet me outside my dorm building tomorrow morning. I have something to say to you." Deep down, a pathetic, desperate spark of hope still flickered. If he just showed up, if he could change even a little, maybe I could forgive him. Mark sighed heavily. "If you have something to say, say it now. Waiting around is a massive waste of time." Yet Jenny had told me he once waited outside Fiona's lecture hall for three hours just to walk her home. Before I could speak, Mark's phone buzzed. It was a call from their lab director. He patted my head, his sigh heavy with irritation. "Just be reasonable for once, okay?" He unlocked his bicycle. Fiona smoothly hopped onto the back rack, naturally wrapping her arms around his waist. "We have to run, Iris," Fiona called out with a wave. "Get back safe!" In our two years of dating, Mark had never let me ride on his bike. He always told me it was too dangerous. Back in my room, the department advisor called. "Iris, you're in your sophomore year. Are you absolutely certain about switching your major to Earth Sciences?" "Yes," I whispered. "I'm sure." During our first college entrance exams, my score had been fifty points lower than Mark's. Against the wishes of my parents and teachers, I chose to retake the entire senior year. My classmates laughed at me, calling me a fool who was throwing her life away for a boy. The second year, I finally made it. I got into his university, his major. But all it brought me was incomprehensible coursework and a string of failed lab experiments. Mark would pinch the bridge of his nose, staring at my struggling data sheets with deep disappointment. "If only you had half of Fiona's brains," he would mutter. Silent tears fell onto my desk. I hung up the phone, logged into the university portal, and finalized the transfer. It was time to chase my own path. The next morning, a photo popped up in our group chat. It was a selfie of Fiona and Mark lying head-to-head on a narrow dorm bed. Fiona had added a tired emoji: We pulled an all-nighter in the lab and collapsed. Slept like logs! My gaze lingered on the jacket draped over Mark's shoulders. It was the coat Fiona had worn the night before. A minute later, as if realizing how it looked, Fiona sent another text: Don't worry, Iris! We're basically siblings. We could share a bed for a year and nothing would ever happen! I remembered our only weekend trip together. Mark had insisted on booking a room with separate twin beds. When I teased him for being old-fashioned, his face had hardened as he lectured me about personal boundaries and principles. Sometimes, grief makes even breathing feel heavy. I didn't reply. I simply tapped the button to leave the group chat. Within seconds, private notifications flooded my screen. Mark: Why did you leave the group? Fiona: Iris, what's wrong? I picked up my phone and typed a brief response to both: Nothing. Exams are coming up and I need to focus. Fiona replied instantly: Oh, thank goodness! I was terrified you'd misinterpret the photo. Fiona had known how much I loved Mark since high school. When we entered college, she had promised to help me keep an eye on him, ensuring no other girls got too close. Yet she was the one who crossed every single line. Once my transfer was officially approved, I practically lived in the library. For days, I used exams as a shield to avoid them. When the finals finally ended, I was walking to the dining hall when Mark intercepted me. He blocked my path, staring down at me with cold fury. "Iris, what on earth are you doing?" I blinked, startled. "What?" "You know how hard Fiona worked for the President's Scholarship. Why did you report her?" I gripped the textbooks against my chest, their sharp edges digging painfully into my palms. My throat tightened. "Did you actually see me report her?" "On the day of the scholarship posting, someone saw you walk into the advisor's office. Right after you left, an anonymous reporting letter was submitted." Mark’s expression grew colder. "The report contained details so specific that only someone close to her would know. Who else could it be?" His unwavering certainty sliced straight through my chest. Footsteps approached from behind. Fiona slipped between us, keeping her eyes carefully averted from mine. "Mark, stop. Whether Iris did it or not, I don't want to pursue this anymore." I don't want to pursue this. How beautifully ambiguous. She wasn't defending my innocence; she was playing the saint who graciously forgave my supposed betrayal. She turned to me, her voice dripping with sweet concern. "Iris, don't take it to heart. Mark is just worried about me." The air between us turned ice-cold. I blinked away the tears, my gaze turning dead silent. "Let's break up, Mark." Mark looked at me as if I had lost my mind. "Over a few words? Seriously?" "Yes. Over this." Fiona gasped, looking shocked. "Iris, don't do this in the heat of the moment!" I looked directly at her. "And as for you, we are no longer friends." Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked away. We didn't exchange a single word for the next few days. One afternoon, our class representative pulled me aside to hand over my official transfer slip. "Did you and Mark break up?" she whispered. I didn't say a word, just gave a small nod. She winced. "People have been talking. Everyone's seen him and Fiona lately. They eat lunch together every day and walk around the campus track every evening." Walking around the track with Mark had always been a luxury I was denied. He always said walking was a waste of time, time better spent reading articles. "What transfer?" Mark's voice cut in from behind us. I looked at him, my expression blank. "Nothing." He reached out to take my hand, but I stepped back, letting his fingers grasp empty air. His brow furrowed. "You haven't been to the lab in days. Are you abandoning your research, and your boyfriend?" I looked away. "We broke up, Mark." Mark's throat bobbed. He took a heavy step forward, forcing me to take half a step back. "Are you listening to those stupid campus rumors? Fiona is your best friend, and I am your boyfriend. You shouldn't let cheap gossip get to you." Gossip? Everyone in the department could see what was happening. If either of them had even an ounce of respect for boundaries, the rumors wouldn't exist in the first place. A mocking smile touched my lips. Mark reached out and gave my hair a gentle, patronizing tug. "You're always overthinking things." His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was their professor. He answered, spoke briefly, and hung up. Looking back at me, he said, "You and Fiona haven't hung out in a while. Once the lab project wraps up next Sunday, let's all grab dinner." With that, he turned and hurried off. There would be no next Sunday. My field research project had been approved, and my departure was set for three days from now. The next day, I went to the lab to pack up my personal belongings. As I reached the door, I saw Mark walking out, his arm casually draped over Fiona's shoulder. Fiona called out to me, "Iris! Why haven't you been coming to the lab lately?" My transfer had already been finalized in the system. I stared at his hand resting on her arm, then forced a flat smile. "I've been tired lately. I'm taking a break." Mark gave a brief nod. "Good. Take some time to rest." I returned to my room and began packing my bags. Just as I finished packing my suitcase, a message from Fiona flashed on my screen. Oh my god, Iris! You are literally the best friend ever! Mark told me you agreed to let me take first author on your research paper. Thank you so much! Next week's dinner is on me! Below the text was a screenshot of the accepted journal paper. First Author: Fiona. Second Author: Iris. I had spent an entire year bleeding for this project. I had worked through migraines, ended up in the emergency room with acute gastritis from stress, and spent endless sleepless nights gathering that data. Fiona’s only contribution had been proofreading a few references. And Mark knew that better than anyone. I sat frozen in front of my desk, my mind completely blank. The next morning, I picked up my bags. Jenny hugged me tight, her eyes rimmed with red. "Stay safe out there." I hugged her back, tears stinging my eyes. As I walked out toward the campus gates, a familiar laugh floated over from the path behind me. "Thanks to you, the paper got submitted smoothly," Fiona's voice giggled. "And these flowers are absolutely gorgeous. You have great taste." "So, how are you going to thank me?" Mark's voice replied, playful. Mark rode past me on his bicycle, Fiona sitting on the back, holding a massive, vibrant bouquet of flowers. Mark had severe allergic rhinitis. He had never bought me flowers, and had strictly forbidden me from bringing them anywhere near him. I didn't look at them. I kept my eyes straight ahead, raised my hand, and hailed a taxi to the airport. Sitting in the airport terminal, my phone vibrated with a text from Mark. I need your help with an analysis in the lab. Get over here now. The boarding announcement echoed through the speakers. I stood up and smoothed my jacket. A second message popped up immediately: Where are you? Don't make me wait. I typed out a final reply: You don't have to wait for me ever again. Don't look for me. I hit send, then blocked his number and every single one of his social media accounts. As the boarding call sounded again, I turned my back on the city and walked toward the gate.
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