Chapter 4: Shadows of Doubt

I stared at him, feeling like I didn’t know him anymore.

His words felt like a slap. I almost dropped my racket. I wanted to scream—when had he ever asked me to hold back for anyone?

I’d always loved tennis, even outplaying my coach in middle school. But when I played him, I never used my full strength—I didn’t want him to feel bad losing to a student. When I told Matt, he’d pat my head and say, "Erin, this is your passion. Don’t hold back for anyone."

But now, suddenly, he was standing in front of me, asking me to go easy on another girl.

Matt and I were a well-known campus couple. He was three years older, already a star at Westbrook University. They called him the school’s unattainable star. Even his strict physics professor wanted to introduce him to his own daughter, but he’d always refused, saying he was waiting for someone.

I remember the way people used to look at us—some with envy, some with curiosity. For three years, my name was always paired with his in campus gossip. It felt like we were living in our own little bubble.

Three years later, I got into his university. As a freshman, I was already in the spotlight. People wanted to see what kind of girlfriend Matt had waited three years for.

We were childhood sweethearts. When he was three, he pointed at me and declared, "Sister, wife." The adults all laughed. In elementary school, he tutored me and walked me home every day. In middle school, he protected me from bullies. In high school, when someone confessed to me, I put the letter in my physics book for him to find. He just smiled, showing no jealousy. I was disappointed, until after the SATs, when he said, "I’ve finally waited for you to grow up."

He was excellent, goal-oriented, and every step of his plan included me. But now, all of it seemed absurd.

I used to think we were inevitable. But watching him stand on the other side of the net, silent and distant, I realized nothing in life is guaranteed.

In the second set, I played even harder. Savannah, trying to return a shot, fell awkwardly and clutched her ankle, as if she’d twisted it. She tried to get up, her expression stubborn and determined, as if she was fighting for love. It was almost moving.

People rushed over, and for a second, the whole world seemed to hold its breath. I could see the pain in her eyes, but also something else—desperation, maybe. She was fighting for something she’d never had.

Amidst the commotion, Matt walked onto the court, tall and handsome. In Savannah’s stunned gaze, he took her racket, then turned to me. His face was expressionless, but his tone was calm: "How about I play two sets with you for her?"

He stood across from me—to protect another girl.

For a moment, I was stunned. When I realized what was happening, I nearly burst into tears, but held them back. I put down my racket, looked at Savannah, and forced myself to stay composed. I lifted my chin, held back the tears, and said, "You win. He’s yours."

That’s how Matt and I broke up. Looking back, I should’ve smashed my racket in their faces.

I still remember the metallic taste in my mouth, the way my hands shook as I walked off the court. I wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything except accept what had just happened. But I held it together—barely.

Our breakup shocked everyone. My roommate Casey kept asking, "What did you say? Matt broke up with you? He did?"

She repeated the question so many times I thought she might shake me. Casey had always been my anchor, and now she hovered around me, making sure I ate, trying to make me laugh with dumb memes and bad puns.

But soon, no one was surprised. Savannah was walking around campus arm in arm with him, and everyone knew I’d been replaced.

It was like a bad movie, seeing them together everywhere. The whispers in the hallways, the sympathetic looks from people who barely knew me—it all felt suffocating. I started taking different routes to class just to avoid them.

Casey tried to comfort me, and even stopped idolizing Matt. People who knew me avoided mentioning them in front of me, but campus was small. I still ran into them.

The first time I saw them kissing under the dorm was when I went to get something my mom had sent. She didn’t know we’d broken up, so she sent my things to Matt for him to give to me.

My heart hammered in my chest as I approached the building. I tried to look away, but I couldn’t. Savannah was up on her tiptoes, arms around Matt’s waist, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He stood there, stiff, his hands hanging awkwardly at his sides, like he was just letting it happen.

Under the dorm, I saw Savannah kissing him. He stood still, while she tiptoed and wrapped her arms around his waist. It was a passive kiss, brief. After Savannah left, Matt stood there, watching her go, until he turned and met my eyes.

Our eyes locked for a split second. I felt exposed, like he could see every raw nerve inside me. I forced myself to smile, to act like it didn’t matter.

I wanted to seem carefree, not the kind of girl who cries after a breakup. But seeing this, I was still deeply shaken. This was Matt—the one who’d always chosen me.

He wasn’t a player, nor fickle. He had a bit of OCD, but would eat my leftovers without hesitation. He was cold and impatient, but could explain physics problems to me over and over until I understood. He remembered every detail about me, took care of everything, and said we’d marry after graduation.

I paused, hid my trembling hands behind my back, forced a smile, and said, "Sorry to bother you two, I’m just here to get my things."

Matt looked at me, his expression shifting. He raised his hand to his chest, brows furrowed, as if something was bothering him. He said, "Don’t cry."

I wiped my face—it was dry. I wasn’t crying. Maybe I just looked too sad.

I looked up at him calmly, but he suddenly turned to the sky and asked, "Erin, what do you think love is?"