Chapter 3

Two hours after my humiliating encounter at Ryan's apartment, I found myself wandering aimlessly across campus. My feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying me from building to building while my thoughts remained tangled in an endless loop of confusion and pain.

I hadn't eaten since yesterday. The thought of food made my stomach clench, but my body was beginning to protest with dizzy spells that came and went like waves. Maybe I should force down a granola bar or something. Anything to stop the lightheadedness.

That's when I saw them.

Ryan and Madison sat at an outdoor table by Bruin Café, sharing what looked like an intimate joke. She leaned forward, touching his arm as she laughed, her perfect hair catching the sunlight. He was smiling—that crooked, genuine smile that used to be reserved for me.

The world tilted beneath my feet. All the breath left my lungs at once, replaced by a crushing pressure. They looked so... normal. So happy. As if he hadn't destroyed someone just hours ago. As if I didn't exist at all.

Before I knew what was happening, I was moving toward them, my vision tunneling until all I could see was Ryan's face. Students blurred past me, conversations faded to white noise. I was vaguely aware of tears streaming down my cheeks, but I couldn't feel them anymore.

"Ryan!" My voice cracked as I called his name, louder than I'd intended.

His head snapped up, eyes widening when he spotted me charging across the lawn. Madison turned too, her expression shifting from confusion to recognition to something like pity.

"Ryan, please," I begged, stopping at their table, aware of how pathetic I must look with my unwashed hair and tear-stained face. "Just talk to me. Five minutes. That's all I'm asking."

He glanced around, clearly uncomfortable with the scene I was creating. "Jess, this isn't the time or place."

"When is the time?" My voice rose, trembling with emotion. "You ended two years like it was nothing! You owe me an explanation!"

Madison shifted in her seat, looking everywhere but at me. "Maybe I should go..."

"No, stay," Ryan said firmly, placing his hand over hers. The gesture was like a knife twisting in my chest. "Jessica, you need to leave. Now."

"How could you do this?" I was sobbing now, not caring who saw. "Was any of it real? Did you ever love me at all?"

People were staring. Some had phones out, recording my breakdown. In some distant part of my mind, I knew I would regret this later, but I couldn't stop myself.

"Please," I whispered, reaching for his arm. "Please just look at me."

Ryan jerked away from my touch, his face hardening. "Security," he called to a campus officer who was already approaching. "She's harassing us."

The officer—a middle-aged man with kind eyes—gently took my elbow. "Ma'am, I need you to come with me."

"No, you don't understand," I protested, trying to pull away. "He's my boyfriend—"

"Ex-boyfriend," Ryan corrected coldly.

The word sliced through me like a physical blow. I went limp, allowing the officer to guide me away from the table. As we walked, I glanced back over my shoulder. Madison was looking at me, her expression a mix of embarrassment and pity. She mouthed what looked like "I'm sorry" before turning back to Ryan.

The security officer walked me to a bench far from the café. "Take a few minutes to collect yourself," he said gently. "Do you have someone you can call?"

I shook my head, unable to speak through my tears.

By the time I made it back to my dorm room that night, the video of my meltdown had circulated through most of the campus social groups. My phone buzzed constantly with notifications—some expressing concern, others gleefully sharing my humiliation.

I threw my phone across the room and collapsed onto my bed, emotionally drained and physically exhausted. Lily had left a note saying she was staying at her study group late. I was grateful for the solitude, unable to face even her practical sympathy right now.

It was nearly 11 PM when a soft knock came at my door. I ignored it, burying my face deeper into my pillow. After a moment, I heard footsteps retreating down the hall.

Curiosity eventually pulled me from bed. I opened the door cautiously, half-expecting to find some cruel prank. Instead, a Starbucks bag sat on the floor, still warm. Inside was a brown sugar vanilla latte—my favorite—and a small slip of paper.

"Thought you might need this tonight. –SC"

I clutched the cup, its warmth seeping into my cold fingers as fresh tears welled in my eyes. Someone out there had seen my humiliation and responded not with mockery, but with kindness.

Who was SunChaser? And why did they care about a broken girl like me?