Chapter 2
By eight that night, Ryan finally left.
Before he walked out, he sent me a voice message. "Sophie, I know you're mad right now.
"We can figure out the baby stuff together, whenever you're ready.
"Emma just got dumped. I couldn't just leave her hanging.
"If you're really going to break up with me over one dinner, then what was the point of all these years?"
I listened to his message and saved it.
Grace asked, "How long have you two known each other?"
"Seventeen years," I said.
"Did you grow up together?" Grace pressed.
"We were neighbors," I replied.
"How long did he chase after you?" Grace asked.
"Until the day we graduated high school," I said.
"And you're just letting it go like that?" Grace asked.w
I stared out the window at the rain-soaked sycamore leaves.
'It's not me letting go. He was the one who let go first,' I said.
The next morning, I went to the hospital alone.
Before the anesthesia, the nurse had me confirm my name and the procedure. "Sophie Bennett, voluntary termination of pregnancy."
"Yes," I answered.
"Are you sure no one's forcing you?" the nurse asked.
"No," I said.
"You'll have some bleeding and cramps after. Follow the doctor's instructions for check-ups," she told me.
"Okay," I replied.
The lights in the operating room were painfully bright.
The last thing I saw was the nurse handing me the IV bag.
When I woke up, my stomach felt heavy and my throat was dry.
Someone was sitting by my bed.
It wasn't Ryan. It was my mom.
Her eyes were swollen red, and she was clutching a train ticket.
"Mom?" I croaked.
"Sophie, how could you go through something so big and not tell us?" she said.
I opened my mouth, but couldn't bring myself to apologize.
She gently stroked my hair. "The doctor said you're recovering well. Come home for a few days."
"I can't. I still have classes," I replied.
"Are classes more important than your health?" she asked.
"I don't want people thinking I dropped out because I got pregnant," I said.
"Let them think whatever they want," she said.
Mom unscrewed her thermos and handed me some warm water. "Sweetheart, you don't have to cover for anyone."
My eyes burned as I took the cup.
She never asked why Ryan wasn't there.
But not asking hurt even more than if she had.
When I got back to the dorm, Ryan was waiting at the door.
He was holding a bag of fruit, his face darker than the storm outside.
As soon as he saw me, he came over. "You finished?"
"Yeah," I said.
"Why didn't you wait for me?" he demanded.
"Weren't you busy with Emma?" I shot back.
"I just ran into her that day," he said.
"She got dumped, so you took her out for crab," I said.
"I was worried she might do something stupid," he replied.
"So when I needed you, you weren't there," I said.
Ryan set the fruit down and lowered his voice. "Do you have to make everything sound so cruel?"
"Cruel?" I echoed.
"I didn't mean to leave you alone," he said.
"But you meant to be with her," I replied.
His expression changed. "Sophie, stop being so unreasonable."
That line stabbed right into the spot I knew best.
Every time I questioned him about Emma, he called me sensitive.
Every time I felt uncomfortable because of her, he said I was petty.
Now the baby was gone, and I was still the one who was "immature."
I gripped the edge of the table and sat down. "Ryan, let's break up."
"You just had surgery. You're not thinking straight," he said.
"I'm thinking perfectly clear," I replied.
"You're just using this breakup to punish me," he accused.
"Do you even deserve to be punished?" I shot back.
He stared at me, and whatever softness was left in his eyes disappeared. "You're really going to throw away seventeen years for Emma?"
"You traded it all for a plate of crab," I said.
"Then I'll make it up to you," he said.
"I don't want it," I replied.
He looked confused. "What?"
"I don't want your so-called compensation," I said.
I took out my phone and opened the transfer page. "Everything you paid for these past six months: rent, groceries, whatever... I'll pay you back."
"What are you talking about?" he asked.
"It means, from today on, don't say you supported me," I said.
Ryan didn't take the money.
He stood there in the dorm, his face going from pale to flushed and back again. "Sophie, this isn't about money."
"Then what is it about?" I shot back.
"You know I love you," he insisted.
"Oh, you love me? Is that why you spent the day of my surgery with someone else?" I fired back.
"I told you, she was in a really bad place that day," he said.
"So because she was upset, you had to have dinner with her and let her post it all over her feed?" I pressed.
"I didn't post it," he said.
"But you're right there in the photo," I pointed out.
"I was just sitting next to her," he tried to explain.
I pulled up Emma's post and turned my phone so he could see.
In the picture, a whole plate of crab meat sat in front of Emma, and you could clearly see a man's hand next to it.
The wrist was unmistakable, with the black watchband I'd given Ryan.
That watchband was our two-year anniversary gift.
He once promised he'd never take it off unless it broke.
"You call that just sitting next to her?" I asked.
"I didn't think she'd take a picture," he muttered.
"And you didn't think she'd post it for everyone to see?" I pressed.
"She was drunk," he said.
"So let me get this straight. She got dumped, got drunk, you ate crab with her, she took a photo, and you had no idea about any of it?" I said.
I pulled my phone back. "Ryan, do you even buy your own story?"
He rubbed his forehead, looking frustrated. "There's really nothing going on between her and me, not like you think."
"Not like I think? What exactly do you think I think?" I shot back.
He had no answer.
Footsteps sounded outside, and Emma appeared in the doorway.
She'd changed into a clean dress and was holding a cup of hot soup.
"Ryan, I brought you breakfast," she said.
Ryan turned, his whole body going stiff.
Emma glanced at me, then handed him the soup. "You haven't eaten all night. Your stomach's going to hurt."
I couldn't help but laugh.
Emma's fingers trembled just a little. "Sophie, I didn't mean to upset you."
"Then what are you doing here?" I asked.
"I was just worried about Ryan," she said.
"He's a grown man. He doesn't need you worrying about him," I replied.
"But he didn't sleep all night because of you," she said.
"So he lost sleep over me, and you brought him soup porridge because of him," I said.
I looked at the two of them and suddenly just felt tired. "You both can stop explaining."
Emma's eyes went red again. "Why do you always have to think the worst of us?"
"Because the things you do don't exactly make you look innocent," I replied.
Ryan cut in, his voice low, "Sophie."
"What, I'm not allowed to say it?" I shot back.
"She's my friend," he said.
"Then go protect your friend," I replied.
I opened the dorm door. "Now, both of you, out."
Emma bit her lip, looking at Ryan with wounded eyes. "Ryan, maybe I shouldn't have come?"
Ryan didn't answer.
He stared at me, like he was waiting for me to back down first, like always.
But I didn't.
After a few seconds, he picked up the fruit from the table and walked out.
As Emma passed me, she suddenly stopped.
She lowered her voice. "Do you really think Ryan will always stay by your side?"
"At least he's not with you right now," I shot back.
Her face darkened. "Sophie, don't get too full of yourself."
"I'm not." I stepped aside from the doorway. "I'm just finally done seeing you as my competition."
Emma glared at me, her nails digging into her palm.
She turned and hurried after Ryan.
Soon, her voice echoed down the hallway, crying and trying to explain.
Grace came out of the bathroom and asked, "Did you win?"
"No," I said.
"Then why are you so calm?" she asked.
"Because I'm not the one who lost," I replied.
Suddenly, there was a sharp crash outside the door. It sounded like something hit the floor.
Then Ryan's voice rang out. "Emma, are you done with your drama?"
Three days after my surgery, a post on the Campus Board shot straight to the top of the homepage.
Someone had anonymously posted a photo.
In the picture, Emma was sitting by the window at the Crab Shack, with a plate piled high with crab meat in front of her.
Ryan was sitting across from her, his head down as he cracked open a crab.
The photo was taken from far away, so you couldn't see their faces, but people could definitely recognize their clothes.
The post's title was: [Who was really having dinner with the heartbroken girl on Thanksgiving night?]
The comments section was even more chaotic than the day before.
[Are they really just friends?]
[He's got a girlfriend, but he's out having dinner that looks so intimate with another girl?]
[The girl's pregnant and had the surgery all by herself. That guy is seriously messed up.]
Some people were sticking up for Ryan.
[It's just dinner. Who made the rule that guys can't have girl friends?]
[The girl chose to have the abortion herself. Don't blame everything on the guy.]
I set my phone aside and went back to sorting through my course materials.
My advisor knocked on the door. "Sophie, do you have a minute to talk?"
"Sure," I said.
He walked in but stayed standing, giving me a quick look to check how I was doing. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better," I replied.
"Do you need the school to step in about what's happening on the Campus Board?" he asked.
"My name isn't in the post," I said.
"But everyone knows it's you," he pointed out.
"Just because they know doesn't mean they can prove it," I replied.
My advisor was quiet for a moment. "Ryan came to see me. He said your mood might mess up the class's shot at awards this semester."
I looked up. "He said that?"
"He said you've been acting off lately, and he's worried you might cause a scene in public," the advisor explained.
I gripped my pen tightly. "I'm pulling out of all the awards this semester."
"You shouldn't have to take the fall for this," the advisor said.
"Then please let him know I haven't messed things up for anyone," I replied.
"Do you have any evidence?" the advisor asked.
I opened my laptop and brought up the screenshots and voice messages I'd saved. "Yes."
After listening to the voice message, the advisor's face darkened. "Did he admit he wasn't with you on the day of your surgery?"
"Not directly," I replied.
"So this only proves he was with Emma, not that he wasn't with you," the advisor said.
"I have the hospital's record of who was with me," I said.
I opened the photo my mom had sent me.
On the day of the surgery, my mom was the only one who signed the paperwork.
The advisor stared at the screen, saying nothing.
Suddenly, Ryan's voice came from outside the door. "Professor, can I come in?"
The advisor tucked his phone away. "Come in."
Ryan pushed the door open, and his gaze immediately found me.
He'd gotten thinner lately, a hint of stubble on his chin, but he still had that rough, handsome look, like someone who'd been through a lot.
I used to be a sucker for that.
Whenever he looked tired, I'd always go soft.
Now, all I saw was a face that was good at pretending.
"Sophie, I need to talk to you," Ryan said.
"The professor's here. You can talk," I replied.
He glanced at the advisor. "This is something between us."
"Your personal business is already affecting the whole class," the advisor said.
The advisor set his phone down on the desk. "Ryan, you told me Sophie was emotionally unstable, but you never gave me any proof."
Ryan's expression shifted. "I was just worried about her."
"If you were worried, why did you tell people she went to the hospital?" the advisor asked.
I looked up. "Who did you tell?"
Ryan didn't answer.
Suddenly, the advisor's phone rang.
He picked up, and after just a couple of sentences, his face went completely pale. "What? The post was sent from Emma's account?"