Chapter 7
Ivy
The interaction gets worse after our library meeting.
It's subtle at first. Small things that could be coincidence if I didn't know better.
Monday, he's in the campus coffee shop when I arrive for my morning order. "Funny seeing you here," he says, even though I come here every single morning. He orders the same drink I always get, my usual then takes it for himself. "Oh, was this yours? My mistake."
The barista makes me another one while Ethan smirks over his stolen coffee.
Tuesday, in Business Strategy, Professor Hendricks calls on me to answer a complex question about competitive advantage. I'm mid-response when Ethan interrupts.
"Actually, Professor, I think Ivy's missing a key element. Porter's framework requires analysis of all five forces, not just competitive rivalry." He proceeds to elaborate on my answer, making it sound like I was about to give an incomplete response.
I wasn't, but now the whole class thinks I need Ethan Zhang to rescue my analysis.
Wednesday, he shows up at the library thirty minutes before our scheduled meeting. Takes my usual seat. When I arrive, he looks up with mock surprise.
"Oh, were you planning to sit here? I didn't realize you had a monopoly on this spot."
"You know I always sit here."
"Do I? I must have forgotten." His smile is razor-sharp. "But I'm already settled in. You don't mind taking that chair, do you?"
He gestures to the seat with the broken wheel. The one everyone avoids. I take it anyway. Won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me react.
Thursday, he corners me after class.
"We need to discuss the October trip. For our project."
"What trip?"
"The overnight research trip. To NovaShop headquarters. It's required." He pulls out his phone, shows me the email. "Hotels are already booked. We leave on the fifteenth."
My stomach drops. "Overnight?"
"Two nights, actually. Company visit on day two, presentation prep on day three. Didn't you read the project guidelines?"
I did read them. Somehow missed this detail.
"I'll find a way out of it."
"Can't. Professor Hendricks already confirmed attendance. If we don't go, we fail the project."
"Then I'll request a different partner—"
"Based on what grounds? That you can't handle being professional for two nights?" His voice drops. "Everyone will want to know why. Should I tell them? About winter formal? About how you threw yourself at me and I had to publicly reject you?"
The lie is so audacious I almost gasp.
"That's not what happened—"
"Isn't it? I'm sure people would be very interested in hearing both sides of the story.
" He leans closer. "So here's what's going to happen.
You're going on this trip. You're going to be civil and you're going to keep our history to yourself.
Unless you want the entire business college to know how desperate you used to be for my attention. "
He walks away before I can respond, leaving me shaking with rage in the hallway.
Students pass by, chatting, laughing, completely unaware that I just got threatened by someone who's supposed to be my project partner.
I pull out my phone and text the group chat. Emergency. Need you both. Now.
Twenty minutes later, we're in Isla's room. I've explained everything, the escalating harassment, the trip, his threat.
"That's blackmail," Lennox says immediately. "You should report him."
"For what? He hasn't technically done anything against the rules. He's just being an asshole."
"He stole your coffee. He undermined you in class. He's psychologically tormenting you." Isla counts off on her fingers. "That's harassment."
"It's my word against his and he's Ethan Zhang, wealthy family, pristine record, new transfer student who hasn't caused any problems. I'm the angry ex-friend who can't let go."
"That's not how anyone sees you—"
"That's how his parents will spin it if this becomes official." I drop my head into my hands. "His mother has connections everywhere. She'll make me look unstable."
"So what are you going to do?" Lennox asks gently.
"I don't know. Go on the trip, I guess. Survive two nights of torture. Come back and finish this semester."
"Or," Isla suggests, "you fight back."
"How?"
"By not giving him the reaction he wants. He's trying to break you. Don't break." She sits next to me. "And if he tries anything on that trip, anything that crosses the line, you document everything. Photos, recordings, witnesses. Build a case."
"That feels like I'm planning for war."
"You are at war. He started it. You're just finally fighting back."
She's right. I've been playing defense this whole time. Letting Ethan control the narrative, the interactions, the power dynamic.
Maybe it's time to go on offense.
The next week, I change my strategy.
When Ethan shows up at the coffee shop before me, I go to a different one. When he tries to interrupt me in class, I politely but firmly continue my answer, forcing him to either shut up or look like an asshole.
When he takes my library seat, I smile sweetly and say loud enough for everyone to hear. "That's okay, Ethan. I'm flexible. Unlike some people."
Small victories. But they feel good.
Friday, we have another project meeting. This time, I arrive first. Choose the seat I want. Spread my materials out so he has limited space.
He notices immediately when he arrives.
"Setting up camp?"
"Just being efficient." I open my laptop. "I've completed the market segmentation analysis. Your competitive strategy section needs work."
I slide my notes across to him. They're thorough, detailed, and highlight every weak point in his analysis.
He reads through them, his jaw tightening. "These are... extensive."
"I'm thorough. You should try it."
"I am thorough—"
"Your analysis of NovaShop's supply chain completely missed their partnership with third-party logistics providers. That's not thorough. That's careless."
It's a low blow. Ethan hates being called careless. Hates any implication that he's not the smartest person in the room.
"I'll revise it."
"Good. Because I'm not letting this project fail because you can't be bothered to do proper research."
"I'm doing proper research—"
"Are you? Or are you too busy stalking me to actually work?"
The accusation hangs between us. His eyes flash dangerously.
"Stalking you? You think very highly of yourself, don't you?"
"You show up everywhere I am. Coffee shop, library, random places on campus. That's not a coincidence."
"Maybe you're just not as interesting as you think. Maybe I have my own life and our paths cross because we go to the same school."
"Then stop taking my seats. Stop stealing my coffee orders. Stop undermining me in class." I lean forward. "Stop pretending this is about the project when we both know it's about control."
"Control." He laughs. "You're projecting. You're the one who needs everything organized, scheduled, controlled—"
"Because you destroyed my ability to trust anything spontaneous!
" The words come out louder than I intended.
"You want to know why I'm rigid? Why I plan everything?
Because the one time I didn't, the one time I was honest and vulnerable and real, you used it to humiliate me in front of everyone I knew! "
The study room goes silent. Through the glass walls, I can see people looking.
Ethan's face has gone pale. "Ivy—"
"We're done for today. I'll email you the revised timeline." I pack up my laptop with shaking hands. "And Ethan? If you keep trying to sabotage me, I'll go to Professor Hendricks. Parents' donations or not, I'll report every instance of your harassment. Try me."
I leave before he can respond. Before I can see whatever emotion is playing across his face. Before I can care about the fact that I just publicly called him out.
In the bathroom, I lock myself in a stall and let myself shake.
That was stupid. Reckless. Exactly the kind of reaction he wanted, but it also felt good. Necessary. Like I finally said something that's been building for three years.
My phone buzzes. Text from an unknown number.
Unknown: I saw what happened in the study room. Zhang looked wrecked. Good for you for finally standing up to him. -Dylan
Then another text. This one from Marcus.
Marcus: Hey, Ethan's roommate here. Not sure what's going on with you two, but he's currently punching his pillow and looks miserable. Just thought you should know.
I stare at both messages. Why does he think I care?
I should feel victorious. I should be glad that I finally got to him.
Instead, I just feel exhausted.
Saturday morning, there's an envelope slipped under my door.
No name. No return address. Just thick, expensive paper.
I open it carefully.
Inside is a single page, handwritten in Ethan's distinctive scrawl.
You're right. About everything.
I have been trying to control you. Trying to force you to acknowledge me. Trying to make you feel even a fraction of what I feel every day.
I'm sorry. Not for the first time. Not for the last time. Just... sorry.
I'll stop. I promise. No more coffee shop ambushes. No more interrupting in class. No more taking your seat.
I'll be professional. Distant. Whatever you need me to be.
Except honest. Because if I'm honest, I'll tell you that destroying you was the worst thing I've ever done. That I think about that night constantly. That I wish I could go back and choose differently.
But I can't. So I'll just be what you asked for, a project partner who stays in his lane.
After the October trip, you'll never have to deal with me outside of required class interactions.
I promise.
-E
I read the note three times.
It's not enough. One note doesn't undo weeks of torment. Doesn't erase three years of hurt.
But it's something.
It's him admitting fault. Admitting that he's been wrong. Promising to back off.
I should be relieved, should be happy to finally have the space I've been demanding.
Instead, I feel hollow.
Like I just won a battle but somehow also lost something I can't name.