Chapter 4

Nathan frowned.

"Mia, if something's bothering you, just say it. There's no need to threaten me with a breakup."

I met his gaze, and he instinctively looked away.

He knew I wasn't joking.

No matter how big the conflict, I wouldn't easily suggest breaking up, but I couldn't continue with such an insecure relationship anymore.

Nathan sighed and took my hand.

"Is it because I've been too busy lately? Do you feel neglected?"

"Mia, applying for grad school at Harvard is important for both of us. We've worked for three years for this. Once we're accepted, I promise I'll spend quality time with you."

My hands and feet were icy cold from the evening breeze, but at that moment, I felt no fondness for the warmth of his hand.

I scoffed. "Nathan, you don't have time for me, but you have time for Chloe?"

"Her messages get instant replies, mine are always read but ignored? Let's break up, I'm really tired."

The last shred of tenderness in Nathan's eyes vanished.

Replaced by a chilling gaze.

"Mia, I've told you many times."

"I'm good to Chloe, good to your family, all because of you."

He hailed a taxi with Chloe, throwing me a parting shot, "You're not thinking clearly right now. We'll talk about this when we get to Harvard."

No need to talk. There was no going back.

Harvard was 3120 miles from Stanford, and perhaps, we would never see each other again.

I hailed a rideshare back to school by myself.

When I returned to my dorm, my roommate told me:

"Your boyfriend sent you flowers again! So handsome, so smart, and so loyal. We're all so jealous of you!"

I merely hummed in response, looked at the red roses on my desk, and turned to throw them in the trash.

My roommate gasped. "What are you doing?!"

"These aren't my favorite flowers."

I looked at the vibrant red roses in the trash.

Those were Chloe's favorite flowers.

After that, neither Chloe nor Nathan contacted me, just like before.

But sometimes, when I came across a funny video or a cool new spot I wanted to check out, I'd pause, not knowing who to share it with.

I told myself, just get through this, and everything will be fine once I get to Stanford.

The day the competition results came out,

I found my bonus points were lower than both Nathan's and Chloe's.

I frantically called Nathan, but he hung up each time.

On the eleventh call, he finally answered.

My breath hitched, and I asked with a trembling voice, "Why is my score the lowest for the team project?"

His calm voice came through the receiver: "Chloe said her grades weren't that high, and she wanted more competition points to make her Harvard application more secure, so I put her name first."

"Is that a problem? Isn't she your sister? And even if your competition score is low, you can still easily get into Harvard."

Before I could say anything, Nathan hung up.

I couldn't control my anger.

Chloe had been slacking off and chatting every time, and I had done most of the work for the team.

But Nathan, without consulting me, had directly placed Chloe ahead of me.

Stanford's admission difficulty was much higher than Harvard's.

In the end, it was because of Nathan and Chloe that

I missed my closest shot at my dream.

I blocked Chloe's and Nathan's contact information one by one.

I never wanted to see these people again.

As I began preparing for exams, I received a message:

[Mia, thank you for the materials you shared before. They were incredibly helpful.]

[Our competition roster is about to be submitted. If you need it, our team is willing to list you as a member.]