Chapter 4: Aftershocks and Unanswered Questions

Oh my god.

I buried my face in my hands, wishing I could dissolve into the floor. "I am so dead."

I spent a whole hour cursing him and plotting our breakup... and he listened to every word.

The horror hit me all at once. My heart pounded so loudly I could barely hear Carter’s frantic whispering.

As if to shatter my last bit of hope, Ethan’s deep voice came from the laptop speakers:

“Finished talking?”

His voice was steady, but there was a sharp edge to it I'd never heard before. I froze, my mouth suddenly dry.

Say... say what now?

Carter stared at me, eyes wide, silently pleading for me to say something—anything—that would fix this. I had nothing.

How is awkwardness created?

It's born in moments like this, when the floor should open up and swallow you whole, but doesn’t. The silence was suffocating.

My throat burned. I barely managed to squeak out, “You... what did you hear?”

My voice came out so small, it was almost a whisper.

Ethan’s voice was especially low. “I heard everything I needed to.”

He sounded tired. Or maybe just... done.

My mind went blank. I didn’t know what to say.

I stared at the screen, hoping it would freeze or glitch or just go black. No such luck.

After a long pause, a familiar figure appeared outside the coffee shop window—a tall guy dressed all in black, standing out against the flow of students and the bustle of the street. In his hand was a Hello Kitty cake, and every girl passing by gave him a second look. But he just stood there, looking at me through the glass.

He looked so out of place—like a model who’d wandered off a set, clutching that pink box. His eyes locked on mine, and I felt my cheeks flame with embarrassment.

He spoke, his voice soft and almost pleading:

“Riley... can we talk?”

He pressed a hand to the glass, his expression raw in a way I'd never seen before. My heart twisted hard.

Talk? About what?

Carter mouthed, "Big oof." I tried to shrink into my chair.

Just a minute ago, I was still acting sweet to my boyfriend. Now, I’d been caught mapping out a breakup. If this hit Snapchat, I’d never live it down.

I imagined the group chat blowing up, Instagram DMs exploding, screenshots everywhere. The humiliation burned hot and fast.

I looked around nervously, making sure there were no cameras pointed at me.

I scanned the room, half-expecting a TikTok prank crew to pop out. Carter giggled nervously.

Carter suddenly exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. “I get it! Girl, you let him hear on purpose, right? You mastermind! This is genius—you don’t even have to say you want to break up.”

She snapped her fingers, beaming. "Honestly, that's next-level. You’re playing chess, not checkers!"

Me: ...

I shot her a look. "Carter, if I was that clever, would I be totally freaking out right now?"

What kind of twisted logic is that? If I’d done it on purpose, would I be this embarrassed?

I could barely breathe, let alone scheme.

My fingers clenched tight, but I didn’t even feel the pain. I just stared at the man in front of me. His expression was cold as ever, but... why did the corners of his eyes look a little red? Was he angry that I’d plotted to break up behind his back?

He looked away for a second, jaw tight. For the first time, I wondered if I'd actually hurt him.

I bit my lip, wanting to say something, but Ethan had already come in. He walked up to me, his posture rigid, voice low.

He stepped right up to our table, his presence making the whole place feel like it had gone silent. Outside, the city was alive—horns blaring, a dog barking, someone shouting across the street—but inside, it was just us.

“Happy birthday.”

He handed me the delicate bag and cake. My throat tightened—I didn’t even realize my hands were shaking as I took it.

“Why are you here?” Didn’t you say you wouldn’t come?

I couldn't meet his eyes. My voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

Carter, who had finally recovered, patted my shoulder, putting on her best deadpan. “I know—he wanted to surprise you.”

She grinned, nudging me. "Guess he wins Boyfriend of the Year—move over, Bachelor Nation!"

Me: ...

I shot her a look that screamed, "Please, for the love of God, stop talking."

Girl, if you don’t talk, no one will think you’re clueless. Please, just go home.

I mouthed, "You're not helping," but she just winked at me, pretending to scroll through her phone while sneaking glances at the door.

But the one who stepped forward wasn’t Carter. It was Ethan, setting the gift in front of me. He bent down slightly, his arms tense like he was holding back a tidal wave of emotion.

He looked like he was fighting to keep it together, knuckles white against the box.

Great, now he’s going to settle the score.

I braced myself for a showdown, my heart pounding like a drumline at a football game.

“If you want to break up, why not just tell me directly? Are you really that unhappy with me? Why talk behind my back?”

His voice was steady, but I could hear the hurt underneath. He didn’t shout, but the disappointment cut deep.

…

The word just hung there. I couldn’t look at him. Guilt crawled up my throat, hot and heavy.

Ethan had always been so aloof. How could he not be angry? Anyone would blow up if they heard their girlfriend listing all their faults behind their back.

Carter looked away, pretending to check her phone, eyes darting between us and the door, giving us space but not really leaving.

Since that’s the case, I pressed my lips together and decided to strike first.

I took a shaky breath, ready to just rip off the Band-Aid. "Fine, let's—"

“Then, let’s bre—”

“Riley, what do you want for May 20th?” Ethan straightened up and cut me off. His tone was suddenly light, like nothing had happened at all.

He looked me right in the eyes, his voice soft but steady. It threw me off so much I forgot what I was about to say.

Ethan went to the library. He said he was busy lately and wouldn’t be able to celebrate my birthday with me. He said he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop—he just forgot to leave the meeting room because he was studying.

He fiddled with the strap of his backpack, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I didn’t mean to listen in. I just... lost track of time, I guess."

Normally, I would have snapped back, “Busy, busy, you’re always busy!”

I felt the old frustration bubbling up, but it died as soon as I saw his face.

But today, after getting caught trash-talking him, I was suddenly way more obedient.

I just gave a weak nod, feeling about two inches tall. "Okay. Do what you need to do."

“Then go on and be busy. I’ll celebrate my birthday with my friends.”

I tried to sound upbeat, but my voice wobbled. Carter squeezed my hand under the table, her thumb tracing circles on my palm.

Ethan’s eyes darkened. I thought he was angry, so I quickly added, “Don’t worry, I won’t talk about you anymore..."

I blurted it out, desperate to make things right. "I promise, I won’t say anything behind your back again."

“That’s not what I mean,” Ethan suddenly interrupted. He opened and closed his palm, lashes trembling a little. For a second, he looked almost fragile.

He looked down at his hands, voice barely above a whisper. For a moment, he seemed younger, almost lost.

I held my breath as I heard him say softly, “I mean, because I’ve been a bit busy lately. So... can we wait until May 20th?”

His words caught me off guard. There was a hopefulness in his eyes, like he was asking for one more shot.

Wait until May 20th for what? To break up?

I stared at him, unsure what he meant. Was he buying time? Or was there something else?

I blinked, but in the end, I nodded. “Okay, we’ll talk after May 20th.”

The words felt strange, but I said them anyway. He nodded, looking almost relieved.

Ethan strode away.

He left quickly, not looking back. The bell over the door jingled as he disappeared into the crowd outside, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the sidewalk.

Carter, who had been pretending to scroll through her phone but was actually eavesdropping, couldn’t hold it in any longer. She turned around and bumped my shoulder.

She grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Girl, what a mess! You’ve turned the coldest guy on campus into... what, exactly? A walking plot twist?"

Me: ...

I groaned, dropping my head onto the table. "Don’t even start, Carter."

That night, after my birthday, on the way back to the dorm, Carter and I were a little tipsy. She slung her arm around my shoulders and started in with her trademark analysis:

The night air was cool, the city buzzing with distant laughter and the smell of street cart pretzels. Carter’s laugh echoed down the block. "Alright, Dr. Phil moment—let’s break this down."

“So, what do you think Ethan will say to you after May 20th?”

She wobbled a little, steadying herself against me. Her breath smelled faintly of vanilla vodka.

The alcohol was hitting me, and I suddenly felt irritable.

I scuffed my shoe on the gritty sidewalk, frustration bubbling up again.

“Isn’t it obvious? Of course he’s going to break up with me!”

I said it louder than I meant to, startling a squirrel in the bushes. Carter just laughed, squeezing my shoulder.

“That’s not necessarily true. If he wanted to break up, why not just do it today?”

She shrugged, suddenly serious. "Maybe he’s not as cold as you think, Riley. Maybe he’s just... different."