Seven Years of Love Seven Minutes of Truth

Chapter 26

Chapter 15

| managed to avoid seeing Aiden again until move-in day, though it wasn’t easy living next door. I'd tmy

coffee runs and grocery trips for when his car wasn’t in the driveway, Started taking the long way to everywhere,

just in case.

Maya senthis Instagram post a perfectly filtered photo of him and Madison at srooftop party, his caption

announcing they were official. | deleted the notification without opening it, but not before catching a glimpse of

the likes piling up. All our mutual friends, already accepting this new reality.

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| went through my social media with surgical precision, blocking anyone connected to him. His friends, his

cousins, even his little sister who used to borrow my makeup. There was no point keeping any

windows into his life open anymore. Sdoors need to stay firmly shut.

But the universe has a twisted sense of humor - we ran into them at JFK. Madison was there, of course, looking

like she’d stepped out of a travel influencer’s feed in her matching luggage set and designer sweats. Her

carefully curated airport look made my jeans and Columbia hoodie (bought before everything fell apart) feel

suddenly childish.

Aiden barely managed a stiff “Hello” to my parents before storming off. He looked right throughlike | was

just another stranger in the crowded terminal.

We quickly scattered in different directions, everyone pretending this wasn’t painfully awkward. No one looking

back, because looking back meant acknowledging what we'd all lost.

At the security checkpoint, | caught one last glimpse of him heading to his gate - the one for New York-bound

flights. He must have felt my gaze because he turned, just for a moment. One final cold look before he

disappeared through the doors, Madison’s hand tucked perfectly in his.

Just like that, the boy who'd been there for every major moment of my life - first day of school, braces, driver's

test, prom - was walking toward a different future. The boy who knew all my secrets, all my fears, all my dreams.

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Or at least, the dreams I'd had before | learned to dream bigger than just being his.

Our paths were finally diverging.

“Good luck with your life,” | thought silently, watching his retreating back. Schildhood stories don’t get

happy endings. Sprince charmings turn out to be just boys who never learned to see beyond

themselves.

| turned toward my own gate, ticket to San Francisco clutched in my hand. Stanford was waiting, and for the first

tin my life, | was writing my own story - no co-author needed.