Chapter 6: Breaking Point, Honest Hearts
Mason kept taking care of me—serving food, handing me napkins.
He was so attentive, it made my heart ache. I didn’t want him to feel like he had to impress me. It wasn’t fair.
The more he did, the more guilty I felt.
The more tormented I was inside.
He was trying so hard. Mason probably misread my mood as offline awkwardness and gently changed the topic: "Autumn, want to listen to music together tonight?"
He said it softly, almost like he was afraid I’d say no.
Now, when Mason called me Autumn, it sounded strange.
It felt too familiar, too intimate, after everything that had just happened. It stung.
So I looked at him earnestly.
"How about you call me Senior Autumn? I’m already a senior."
I tried to put some distance between us, hoping it would make things less complicated.
Mason choked on his water, surprised.
He grabbed his water, eyes wide. I felt a pang of guilt watching him struggle.
Watching his eyes water from coughing, guilt hit me even harder—I really didn’t want to push him.
So I added, "You should only be 19 this year, so I’m four years older. If you don’t want to call me senior, call me big sis."
I tried to make it sound like a joke, but the words hung heavy in the air. Not funny.
After I finished, Mason suddenly leaned in—his tall figure instantly enveloping me.
He looked different—more confident, more intense. It caught me off guard.
Looking down at me, he seemed like a different person.
The puppy look was gone—now he looked more like a wolf.
"I’m 20. Why should I call you big sis? If you really want me to, I can call you that. Okay?"
He held my gaze, daring me to say otherwise. My face burned.
"Big sis?"
He said it again, this time with a teasing lilt. I felt my face go up in flames.
Mason kept calling me big sis—I really couldn’t take it.
"If you want to call me that, fine—today I’ll ‘adopt’ you as my little brother."
I tried to salvage my dignity, but it was slipping through my fingers. Nice try.
I killed the mood in one go.
He didn’t get it. I guess Mason still doesn’t understand why I seemed like a different person after the meal. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have stopped and asked me now:
"Autumn, what’s wrong? Are you uncomfortable?"
He sounded genuinely concerned. I felt like the worst person in the world.
…
It was crushing. At this moment, all I felt was endless regret and guilt.
Especially with Mason showing concern, I felt even worse.
My mess, I had to clean up myself.
Taking a deep breath, I decided to be a good senior and tell him to hit the books—keep grinding.
I told Mason, "No—I need to get back to studying. I’m taking the GRE this year. Busy. You should hit the books too."
He looked hurt. I hoped the formality would create some distance, but Mason just looked at me, confused.
Awkward. To make my words sound more weighty, like a teacher, I patted Mason on the shoulder.
"You’re at your most energetic age—you should study hard. If you have any questions, just ask me. I’ll do my best to help."
I tried to sound upbeat, but my voice cracked a little at the end.
Ouch. Now, Mason’s expression froze.
I guessed he was thinking about why I said that.
He didn’t miss a beat. He was smart—he immediately got to the point.
"Autumn, do you think I’m too young? You think we’re not suitable?"
His words hit me like a punch. I wanted to say no, but I couldn’t lie. He nailed it.
I admitted age was part of it, but more importantly, I didn’t want Mason to change himself to accommodate me.
So this time I stammered, avoided his gaze, trying to find words to ease the situation.
But no matter how I thought, nothing seemed right.
So I remembered the old saying: sometimes, running away is the best strategy.
Should I just run now? Tempting.
I glanced at the door, half-tempted to make a break for it. But Mason wasn’t letting me off the hook.
Now, even if I didn’t want to look at him, I had to.
Mason slowly approached.
Under the dim light, the shadows carved along his jaw, the air buzzing.
He looked older, more mature than I’d ever seen him. My heart hammered in my chest.













