Chapter 1
After college started, I dumped my childhood sweetheart Marcus Blackthorne.
He just smirked. “What, just because I picked HER up for orientation instead of you?”
“Yep.”
He laughed again, all patronizing and smug.
“Okay babe, so how many days are we ‘broken up‘ this time?”
Before I could answer, his precious little scholarship princess called.
“Don’t worry, I’m coming.”
Watching him sprint off like a lovesick puppy, I choked back the words burning in my throat: “FOREVER.”
Ten years of chasing this asshole. But I was DONE playing his game.
Time for some people to get what they deserved!
I went back to my dorm alone, staring at the major transfer form on my desk.
Thinking back to orientation day two days ago.
Marcus had promised to pick me up at the train station.
I waited for hours at that unfamiliar station, missing bus after bus to campus, until I finally got his text:
[Joy, something came up. Can’t make it. Just take a cab to campus for orientation.]
I instinctively made excuses for him–maybe he really was busy.
But when I finally dragged my luggage and the gifts I’d bought him to the dorm building, sweating like crazy…
I saw him helping another girl move her stuff. She was on her tiptoes, wiping sweat from his forehead with a smile.
“Marcus, you’re such a sweetheart~ Picking me up, helping with orientation, carrying my bags… I don’t know how to thank you.”
I laughed bitterly. “Why don’t you just marry him?”
The girl’s face turned red as she hid behind Marcus.
Marcus looked thrilled and headed straight for me.
“Joy! You made it!”
“Look at my brave girl, handling orientation all by herself.”
He reached out to pinch my cheek with that adoring expression.
I slapped his hand away. “So you didn’t pick me up because you were busy with HER stuff?”
He tapped my nose, looking exasperated. “Jealous again?”
With that “what am I gonna do with you” look, he pulled me over to the girl:
“This is Chelsea Morrison, the scholarship student I mentioned. She doesn’t know anyone here, so I’m helping her out. Come on, say hi.“
Chelsea said timidly, “You must be Joy! Hi, Marcus told me about you.”
A Dionon!
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I knew who she was.
Marcus brought her up every time we talked on the phone.
We’d fought about her countless times.
All my hurt turned to rage:
“We’re not friends, so don’t act like we are! Stop being so fake.” I said coldly.
Chelsea’s eyes instantly filled with tears as she bit her lip.
Marcus immediately grabbed my wrist, his voice stern.
“Joy! What the hell? Apologize. NOW.”
I yanked my hand free with a cold laugh. “Apologize? Not happening!”
I ran toward the dorm building.
But the tears I’d been holding back fell as soon as I started unpacking, dropping onto the gifts I’d bought for him.
My roommates were chatting on the balcony, not noticing my breakdown.
“Damn, this freshman works fast–already hooked up with an upperclassman!”
“And look how far they’ve gotten already–they’re practically all over each other!”
I froze, wiping my tears quickly before running to the balcony.
Seeing them hugging downstairs, I suddenly felt exhausted by this whole relationship.
Maybe it was time to end it.
During orientation, I asked my advisor about switching majors.
She gave me a transfer form–due in three days.
I waited stubbornly for Marcus to come apologize. If he did, I’d forgive him.
But he never came.
He was too busy taking care of Chelsea, treating her roommates to dinner, getting her ready for orientation week.
The campus forum was flooded with photos of them together–so perfect, so matched.
I suddenly remembered when we were kids and he’d hold my hand playing house, with passing neighbors teasing that I was his little bride.
Marcus would seriously correct them: “She’s not my little bride–Joy’s my WIFE!”
Everyone always said we were the perfect couple, meant to be.
Thirteen years of feelings made my chest ache for three whole days.
I could feel them slowly peeling away from my heart–from excruciating pain to numbness.
By the time I told Marcus we were breaking up, only a dull ache remained.
He was certain I was just throwing another tantrum.
Certain I could never leave him.
Because I’d compromised and second–guessed myself countless times to keep this relationship alive.
I’d even studied day and night, ignoring my parents‘ objections to major in pre–med, just because he’d said “I’ll be waiting for you at Jefferson Medical
School.”
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Chapter 1
Looking at the campus forum photo of Marcus running with Chelsea in his arms, I firmly wrote “Request transfer to Business Management” on the
form.
