Chapter 33 #2
“I’m so sorry,” I say, and I mean it. “I should have—I should have asked more questions, should have insisted on talking to you directly. But I wanted to believe him so badly that I ignored all the warning signs. And after…I was so embarrassed. I blamed myself and I thought I must have imagined the whole thing.”
“What warning signs?”
I think about it. “He never wanted to go anywhere public. Said he didn’t want to complicate things before he’d talked to you.
He wouldn’t let me leave anything at his place.
And he always seemed... I don’t know, like he was performing.
Like he was saying what he thought I wanted to hear rather than what he actually felt. ”
Harper nods grimly. “He does that. The performing thing. I thought it was just because he was nervous about us getting serious, but now...” She takes a shaky breath and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “God, I'm such an idiot. All those nights he said he was studying with you—”
“We were studying,” I interrupt quickly. “At first. For months, actually. Until summer when you left for London.”
“The whole summer.” Her voice is flat. “Three months of me sending him photos from London, telling him I loved him, while he was...” She trails off, then looks at me directly. “We were not casual. Not one bit.” A bitter laugh escapes her. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Do you still have feelings for him?”
The question I've been dreading. But looking at Harper—really looking at her, seeing the hurt and confusion and brave attempt at dignity—the answer comes easily.
“No,” I say, and realize I mean it completely.
“I thought I did, but what I felt for Miles wasn't love.
It was... hope, I guess. Hope that if I was useful enough, patient enough, understanding enough, he'd eventually choose me.
But you can't love someone who holds you at arm's length and lies to you all the time.
You can only love the version of them they're performing.”
“And the real version?”
“Is selfish. And manipulative. And not worth either of our time.”
Harper is quiet for a long moment, stirring her latte with slow, deliberate movements.
“You know what the worst part is? I suspected it.
When I came back from London, you'd disappeared from study group, and wouldn't look at him in public. The way he got defensive when I asked about you. I knew something had happened, but I let him convince me I was being paranoid.”
“Harper—”
“And now I'm sitting here, finding out my boyfriend spent our entire summer break fucking my predecessor while I was sending him 'I miss you' texts from abroad.” Her voice cracks. “How many other girls were there? How many other 'study partners' should I be asking about?”
“I don't know,” I admit quietly. “But Harper, this isn't about you not being enough—”
“Isn't it?” She meets my eyes, mascara starting to smudge. “Because right now, I'm wondering what was so wrong with me that he needed you. And what was so wrong with you that he kept me.”
The words land like a slap, but I can't even be angry because I've wondered the same thing.
“Maybe,” I say slowly, “the question isn't what's wrong with us. Maybe it's what's wrong with someone who needs multiple women to feel validated. Who can only feel powerful when he's keeping secrets.”
Harper stares at me for a long moment. When she speaks again, her voice is steady.
“Thank you for telling me. I know this couldn't have been easy.”
“Thank you for listening. And for not hating me.”
“I don't hate you. I hate that he put us both in this position.” She looks up at me. “Can I ask what made you decide to tell me now?”
I think about Miles sitting across from me yesterday, asking me to help him lie to her. About Ethan’s note and Greg waiting in my apartment. About the clarity that came from finally seeing Miles exactly as he is.
“Because I’m tired of protecting him. And I finally realized that I’m not to blame, that I couldn’t have predicted what he did.”
Harper smiles, small but real. “Good for you.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, both of us processing the weight of what’s been shared. The afternoon sun hits my face and warms me. I realize I feel lighter than I have in months.
“So,” Harper says eventually, “what about you and Ethan? That looked pretty intense at the party.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “It is. Or it was. I kind of messed it up.”
“How?”
“Long story involving game criticism and secret identities and my inability to communicate like a functional human being.”
Harper laughs, surprising both of us. “God, love’s a mess, isn’t it?
“It is. I’m actually working on an app to try and fix that.”
“How’s it going?”
I think about Ethan’s note, about the way he defended me to Miles, about how he makes me laugh and challenges me to be better and trusts me even when I hurt him.
“I think it’s got some things right, but I don’t think it’s the answer I thought it could be.”
Harper stands, gathering her things. “Miles told me you got into Jenkins' AI lab. He was jealous, you know. Said you got everything so easily—perfect grades, professor recommendations. He never understood how hard you worked for it. Congratulations. I know you deserve it.”
I shouldn’t be surprised that Miles is jealous, but I am.
“Thanks, but I’m not in yet. I still need to make sure my grades are up.”
“You’ll be fine.” She’s so confident. “Piper? Thank you. Really. I know this wasn’t easy, but I needed to know.”
“What are you going to do? About Miles?”
Her smile is sharp, determined. “I’m going to have a very honest conversation with him about trust and respect, and why this relationship is over.”
“Good for you.”
“Good for both of us.”
We hug goodbye, and I watch her walk out into the afternoon light, shoulders straight and purpose in her step.
She’s going to be fine, I realize. More than fine.
And maybe, if I can find the courage Harper just showed, so will I.
I pull out my phone and scroll to Ethan’s contact, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Everything in me wants to text him immediately, to rush over there and fall into his arms and pretend the last week never happened.
But sitting here, fresh from one of the hardest conversations of my life, I realize that’s exactly the kind of thinking that got me into trouble with Miles. Rushing toward someone else to fix the mess in my head instead of doing the work myself first.
Harper just walked out of here with her dignity intact because she asked hard questions and demanded honest answers. She didn’t let Miles’s manipulation define her worth or her future. She took control.
I need to do the same thing.
I open Ethan’s contact.
Thank you for the note and for leaving Greg. I missed you too. I need some time to think about things - really think, not just react. I’ll message you when I’m ready.
I stare at the text for a long moment, then hit send before I can lose my nerve.
Ethan
Take all the time you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready.
Simple. Understanding. No pressure, guilt, or attempts to change my mind. Just... patience.
It makes me want to call him immediately, which is exactly why I need to stick to my guns on this.