Chapter 2

Leah beamed like a girl who'd just received her favorite candy.

I looked at the bracelet she'd removed, and a dull thud echoed in my chest.

No pain, just a heavy ache.

I turned my face away, not wanting to see it anymore.

"Ethan," Leah said, her voice light, as if discussing something inconsequential, "I want to dance the first dance with Leo. Is that okay?"

Before I could reply, Leo spoke up.

"Leah, are you sure about this?" he said, his brow slightly furrowed, his tone perfectly pitched with hesitation.

"Ethan's your boyfriend. The first dance should be yours."

As he spoke, his eyes briefly flickered to me, then back to Leah.

There was a thin layer of smugness hidden in that gaze, like an undercurrent beneath the surface of still water.

He thought he was hiding it well, but everyone could see it.

Leah didn't look at Leo; she just watched me, waiting for my reaction.

She probably expected me to frown, to ask "Are you serious?"

She probably expected me to throw a tantrum, like the last time she went to the movies alone with Leo.

"He just learned ballroom dancing, and he's nervous about dancing with other girls," Leah added, as if offering me an out. "You know his situation; we can't just leave him standing there watching, can we?"

I didn't argue, I didn't make a scene. I just looked at her for three seconds.

In those three seconds, a lot of things flashed through my mind.

I remembered the first time I saw her, when we were three years old.

I remembered her shining eyes on her birthday, when I helped her put on the bracelet.

I remembered the countless times she'd talked about her plans for Harvard University.

We applied to the same school, the same major.

She'd talked about riding bikes around campus together, grabbing snacks.

She always smiled beautifully when she said those things, and I always believed they were real.

Three seconds passed. I took a step back, silently giving up my place.

Leah paused, surprised by my easy agreement.

Her eyes held a hint of shock, even a touch of confusion, as if I'd thrown her off her script.

But that surprise lasted less than two seconds before her attention returned to Leo.

She took his hand and walked onto the dance floor.

The music began—a slow waltz. The two danced gracefully.

Leah's white dress flowed like water in the lights, her steps light and airy.

Leo's movements were a bit stiff, occasionally missing a beat, clearly a beginner.

But Leah didn't care. She looked up at him, her eyes full of smiles.

Everyone around them was watching. Some whispered, some took out their phones to snap pictures, and some searched for me.

I could feel their gazes sweeping over me, filled with confusion and sympathy.

I didn't look back. I turned and walked towards the hall exit.

The night air was chilly as it swept in.

As I walked out of the school gates, I instinctively touched the watch Leah had given me on my wrist.

The strap was old, the leather starting to crack.

I looked down at it, smiled, but didn't take it off.

Not because I cherished it, but because it didn't matter anymore.

My phone screen lit up with a message from Leah.

I tapped it open, but didn't rush to read the content. First, I checked the time.

A dance song usually lasts about three minutes. Adding in a minute for her and Leo to chat after their dance, it was exactly the right time for her to be free to contact me.

"I told you Leo's shy, and he just learned ballroom dancing, he's nervous to dance with other girls."