She smiled at someone else.And something inside him cracked.
I've always wanted to see her smile. I just didn't know that smile could crush me from inside.
It wasn't routine.
Not anymore.
But that Tuesday afternoon, Elias found himself parked near Glendale's campus.
No reason. No plans.
He wasn't here to pick her up.
Not like before.
She took the bus now. She was independent. He was proud of that.
Still—
His hands had turned the wheel before he could think.
Just to check.
From a distance.
He told himself maybe she forgot something.
Maybe he could drop off the charger she left last weekend.
Maybe… he just needed to see her. Just once.
Even if she didn't see him.
Even if she wasn't his to worry about anymore.
He didn't expect to see her walk out of the gate with someone.
A boy.
The same one as before—the tall one with the easy shoulders and sun-warmed skin. Hoodie, jeans, and a smile that probably worked on every girl in a two-mile radius.
He was carrying her books.
All three of them.
Liana wasn't laughing.
But she was smiling.
Soft. Real.
The kind she used to only give him.
His grip tightened on the steering wheel.
He looked away.
Then looked back.
Just to be sure.
It wasn't his imagination.
They kept walking—side by side, not touching.
The boy was talking.
Liana was listening, focused, not guarded.
Comfortable.
She didn't flinch when he moved closer.
Didn't step away when he adjusted the books in his arms.
Elias felt something dark and sour curl under his ribs.
She trusts that he won't hurt her.
She used to only trust me.
He stayed until they turned the corner.
Then drove home.
At 6:30, he texted:
"Hey. I made too much food. You around?"
At 6:47, she replied:
"I can stop by for a bit."
She arrived at 7:12.
Hair damp from the drizzle. Hoodie too thin. Backpack still over one shoulder.
And the necklace still around her neck.
The same one he gave her on her 16th birthday.
The one with the hidden GPS tracker embedded in the clasp.
She knew it was there. He told her when he gave it to her.
"If anything happens, press the button. I'll come."
She never used it.
But she wore it every day.
She trusted him.
Maybe too much.
Now she was here, sitting at his table like nothing had happened.
He served pasta. She thanked him. Ate in silence.
He watched her, trying not to show anything.
Then said—too casual to be casual—
"That boy. The one who walked you out. What's his name?"
She blinked. "Julian."
Of course it was Julian.
"He seems… friendly."
"He's nice," she said. "He helped me carry some books."
"That all?"
She looked up. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing," he said. Jaw clenched. "He just looked like he enjoyed helping."
She blinked. "Why are you saying that?"
Elias's jaw tightened. "He likes you, Liana."
She hesitated. "No, he doesn't."
"Yes. He does."
She looked down at her plate. "I didn't ask him to."
"It doesn't matter."
She raised her eyes, confused now. "Why are you upset?"
He didn't answer. Just stared at her like she'd missed something obvious.
"I didn't do anything wrong," she added, voice quieter. "He was just being nice."
Elias set his fork down—slow, quiet.
"You don't even know him."
"I know he's kind," she said, a little shakily. "At least… he's never made me feel scared."
Something inside Elias broke loose.
"He could be pretending."
"Why would he?"
"Because people don't always show you who they are."
"I'm not stupid, Elias."
"I never said you were."
"You're acting like—like I belong to you."
Silence.
Thick.
Hot.
Then she whispered, "Is that what this is about?"
He didn't answer.
She pushed back her chair.
"I should go."
"It's raining."
"I'll be fine."
"You don't have an umbrella."
"I said I'll be fine."
She grabbed her backpack.
He followed her to the door.
And then said it.
"He's not good enough for you."
She stopped. Turned.
Her eyes were dry, but something about them looked like they'd already cried.
"That's not your call."
Then she left.
No door slam. No angry stomp.
But he heard it.
The storm outside picked up.
So did the one inside him.
He stood in the hallway.
The plate was still on the table. Still warm.
The house too quiet again.
He glanced at his phone.
Her signal—still moving.
Still glowing.
Still walking away.
And he didn't know if this time… She'd come back.