Chapter 33
PIPER
I’m still riding the adrenaline high of finally telling Miles exactly what I think of him when I climb the stairs to my apartment.
My hands are steady for the first time in days, my thoughts clearer than they’ve been in months.
It’s like I’ve been walking around with a fog in my brain for months, and confronting Miles just burned it all away.
The key turns easily in the lock, and I push open the door expecting to find Riya waiting with wine and the desire to hear me “drag him for filth,” as she so eloquently put it.
Instead, I find Greg sitting on our coffee table, his broad leaves catching the afternoon light from our living room window. For a second, I just stare at him, brain trying to process why Riya moved him from my bedroom.
Then I see the note.
It’s propped against Greg’s pot, folded notebook paper with my name written in Ethan’s familiar scrawl. My heart does something complicated—a skip, a flutter, a painful squeeze that reminds me how much I’ve missed him these past few days.
I sit on the couch, Greg at eye level, and unfold the note.
I read it twice, then a third time, each pass making my chest feel lighter and heavier at the same time. Lighter because he came here, because he apologized, because he’s ready to listen. Heavier because while I was confronting my past with Miles, Ethan was here being vulnerable, and I missed it.
“Hey, Greg,” I say softly, reaching out to touch one of his leaves. Greg doesn’t respond, obviously, but something about his presence makes the me feel less empty. Like a bridge between the mess I just walked away from and the possibility I’m trying to walk toward.
I pull out my phone, thumb hovering over Ethan’s contact.
The smart thing would be to text him back immediately, to close this loop and start fixing what we broke.
But looking at Greg, thinking about Ethan’s note and his willingness to trust me with complicated stuff, I realize there’s something else I need to do first.
Something I should have done the moment Miles texted me asking to meet.
I scroll through my contacts until I find Harper’s number.
We exchanged information at that first awkward encounter at the Sushi Palace, one of those polite gestures that people make when they’re trying to be friendly.
I never thought I’d actually use it. Part of me hoped I’d never have to.
But I wonder if I offered it because I knew, I knew that one day I’d have to do this.
But sitting here in my apartment, fresh from telling Miles exactly what kind of person he is, I know I can’t let Harper keep dating him without knowing the truth. Not when I have the power to give her the information she needs to make her own choices.
The phone rings twice before she picks up.
“Piper? Hi!” Her voice is bright, genuinely pleased, and guilt immediately claws at my stomach. “How are you?”
“Hey, Harper. I’m... I’m okay. Listen, I know this is going to sound weird, but could we meet for coffee sometime soon? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Is this about Miles?”
My heart pounds. “Yes.”
“I thought it might be.” Her voice is quiet now, thoughtful. “He’s been acting strange since that party. And when I mentioned how cute you and Ethan were, he got... weird about it. You know…weirder than two people who are just friends.”
“Harper, I—” I take a breath, force myself to be direct. “There are things you should know. About me and Miles. About our history.”
Another pause, longer this time. “Okay. When?”
“Whenever works for you. Today, if you’re free. I know this is awkward, but—”
“Today’s fine. I don’t have class until six.” Her voice is steady, but I can hear the undercurrent of worry. “Shall we meet on the quad in an hour?”
“Perfect. And Harper?” I close my eyes. “I’m really sorry I didn’t call before.”
“It’s that bad?”
“It’s... complicated. But you deserve to know.”
“Okay.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Thank you. For calling. I know this can’t be easy for you either.”
The kindness in her voice makes this so much harder.
If she were awful, if she were mean or dismissive or any of the things I used to hope she’d be in my more petty moments, this would be simpler.
But she’s just a nice person who’s dating someone who doesn’t deserve her, and now I have to be the one to break her heart.
“I’ll see you in an hour,” I say.
“See you then.”
I hang up and immediately text Riya.
Where are you?
I’m meeting Harper on campus in an hour.
Riya
I’m at the grocery store.
FINALLY.
You’re doing the right thing. Want me to come with?
No, but thanks. This is something I need to do alone.
Proud of you, babe.
Call me if you need to.
I set my phone aside and look at Greg again. “What do you think? Am I doing the right thing?”
Greg doesn’t answer. But there’s something comforting about his presence, like having a living reminder that good things can grow if you take care of them properly. I only realize now how much bigger he is than when I first saw him.
I think about Ethan’s note, about his willingness to listen and his acknowledgment that I was trying to help him. About how he trusted me enough to leave Greg here, even though I hurt him.
That’s what real partnership looks like, I realize. Not the desperate clinging I had with Miles, not the algorithmic compatibility I’ve been trying to code. It’s choosing to trust each other even when it’s scary, choosing honesty even when it’s hard.
Which is exactly what I need to do with Harper.
I spend the next thirty minutes getting ready, not because I care how I look but because I need something to do with my hands. I change clothes twice, make and abandon three different cups of tea, and reorganize my desk drawer in what Riya would definitely recognize as nervous procrastination.
Finally, it’s time to go.
“Wish me luck, Greg,” I say, grabbing my jacket. “When I get back, maybe we can figure out how to fix things with your dad.”
The afternoon air is crisp, that perfect spring weather that makes you believe anything is possible.
Campus is busy with the usual pre-dinner rush—students heading to jobs, study groups, the gym.
Normal people living normal lives, unaware that I’m about to potentially blow up someone else’s relationship.
But as I walk toward CC’s, I don’t feel guilty anymore. I feel... clear. Like I’m finally doing something because it’s right, not because it’s easy or because it protects me or because it’s what someone else wants me to do.
For the first time in years, I’m choosing honesty over comfort.
And maybe, if I’m lucky, that choice will help me figure out how to be honest with Ethan too.
I spot Harper immediately—she’s claimed a bench on the quad, her golden hair catching the light as she scrolls through her phone. She looks up when I approach, and her smile is nervous but genuine.
“Hi,” she says, standing to give me a quick hug. “Thanks for calling.”
“Thanks for meeting me on such short notice.” I slide into the seat across from her, trying to ignore the way my heart is racing.
Harper wraps her hands around her water bottle and looks at me directly. “So. Miles.”
“Yeah.” I look at the sky, buying myself a moment. “This is going to be hard to hear.”
“I kind of figured.” Her voice is steady, but I can see the tension in her shoulders. “He’s been different since that party. Distant. And when I mentioned seeing you there, he got defensive in a way that made me wonder...”
She trails off, waiting for me to fill in the blanks.
“Harper,” I say quietly, “Miles and I have a history. More than just being study partners and friends.”
Her face doesn’t change, but something shifts in her eyes. “What kind of history?”
“Last summer, when you were abroad, he told me you two were in an open relationship. He said you were keeping things casual until you got back, that he wanted to figure things out properly in person rather than over text.” The words taste like acid, but I force them out.
“We... we were involved. For about three months.”
Harper sets down her water bottle carefully. “Involved how?”
“We slept together. Regularly. He said...” I swallow hard. “He said he couldn’t wait to be with me properly once he sorted things out with you.”
The silence stretches between us like a chasm. Harper stares at her feet, processing, and I watch her face go through a series of expressions—surprise, hurt, anger, something that might be relief.
“He told you we were open?” she asks finally.
“Yes. He said you both knew it was casual, that you were basically just keeping each other company until you got back and could have a real conversation about your future.”
“We were never open.” Her voice is flat. “We talked about it once, hypothetically, but we never agreed to anything. And he called me almost every day while I was in London. Told me he missed me, that he couldn’t wait for me to come home.”
My stomach drops. “Harper—”
“So while he was telling you I was just a placeholder, he was telling me you were just a friend who helped him with homework.” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “God, we’re both idiots, aren’t we?”
“You’re not an idiot. He lied to both of us.”
“But you believed him. And I believed him.” She looks up at me, eyes bright with unshed tears. “How long did it take you to figure out he was lying?”
“About five seconds after you came back and he pretended nothing had ever happened between us.” The memory still stings, but differently now. Like a scar that’s finally healed properly. “He told me it never meant anything, that we were just friends who got carried away.”
“And then I was back.” Harper nods slowly. “So he got to have his cake and eat it too. Summer fun with you, serious relationship with me, and neither of us knew the truth about the other.”