The people around us started to glance over, intrigued by the drama unfolding. I bent down to help her up, but she seemed frozen to the spot, sobbing in gasps like she was on the brink of collapsing. Her cries were dramatic, the kind of desperate sobbing that would go on until I gave in to whatever demands she had.

I gritted my teeth, pulled her up roughly, and shoved her back into her seat. Looking down at her, I said firmly, “I’ll break up with him.”

The instant my words left my mouth, her tears stopped. She almost looked like she wanted to smile, but she quickly stopped herself, blinking up at me with those big, watery eyes—eyes that screamed innocence.

But all I could think was how absurd it was. Even if I broke up with Daniel, he wouldn’t choose her.

As we walked out of the restaurant, she gave me a smile, murmured a soft “Thank you,” and waved goodbye. A light breeze tousled her hair, and the sunlight hit her just right, making her look like she’d stepped out of a painting.

I squinted, watching her retreating figure. She wasn’t the first woman to stand in front of me.

My name is Emily. I’m twenty-eight and about to finish my doctorate. Daniel and I grew up together. Our families were neighbors, and we were in the same class from elementary school through high school. You could call us childhood sweethearts.

He was always exceptional—good-looking, smart—he had all the qualities of a rising star.

If he was the “naturally talented” one, then I was the “hard-working” one. I had to put in a lot of effort just to scrape into the top ten, and even then, it wasn’t guaranteed.

I’m ordinary in looks and tend to blend into the background. I’m the kind of person whose face you might recognize, but whose name you can’t quite place. Like any other girl, I admired Daniel, the shining star.

But I never had the courage to confess—especially when I felt I could be prettier or smarter. I thought, maybe one day, when I became “enough,” I would stand before him and tell him, “I like you.”

So, I silently vowed to myself to become better—good enough to deserve him.

“Daniel’s first in the grade again.”

“Yeah, he’s amazing. So good at studying, and he's so handsome. Have you seen him play basketball? I think he has abs!”

I overheard a group of girls chatting about him as I stood at the water station, their voices filled with admiration.

Back at my desk, Daniel handed me an apple. “My mom asked me to give this to you. You did well this time—keep it up.”

He ruffled my hair lightly before returning to his seat.

“I envy you and Daniel being neighbors,” my desk mate nudged my arm, resting her chin on her hand.

I wasn’t excluded just because I was close to Daniel. Like most students, I faced the usual challenges of preparing for the college entrance exams.

If everything went according to plan, I’d end up at the same university as him. But life had other plans.

A few days before the exams, his father had a tragic accident while driving at night. Despite exhausting all their savings, they couldn’t save him. The accident left them drowning in debt.

The loss of his father seemed to break him. He failed the entrance exam and decided not to repeat the year. Instead, he jumped straight into the workforce.

Meanwhile, I got into Harvard with the third-highest score in the province. I even tried to convince him to try again, telling him I’d wait for him at Harvard.

But he waved me off, saying he had to take care of his family. There was an unspoken sadness in his eyes when he looked at me.

Daniel was stubborn. Once he made up his mind, no amount of persuasion would change it.

That year, I was eighteen. It was my first time traveling so far—more than 10,000 kilometers to Massachusetts—leaving behind the first true separation between us.

Though we were thousands of miles apart, our connection never faded. I’d tell him which cafeteria had the best food and which professor’s lectures were the most interesting.

He would listen quietly from his side, sometimes offering a simple word of agreement.

I’d ask how he was doing, and he’d always say everything was fine. He promised that once he made enough money, he’d come to visit me at Harvard, urging me to focus on my studies.

“And by the way,” he added, “your mom asked me to remind you not to fall in love just yet. You’re too young, and you could easily get hurt.”

“Don’t worry about my mom,” I laughed. “I’m too busy studying to even think about a relationship.” I pretended to complain, and his deep, warm laughter filled my headphones. It was low and almost sounded like it came from deep within him, sending a warmth to my face.

That year, we shared the little details of our lives over the phone, staying up late into the night.

During spring break, he came to pick me up, wearing a khaki trench coat. He’d gotten a bit tanner, and it looked like he’d grown taller. We had mostly talked on the phone, so seeing him in person felt strange at first.

But he seemed perfectly comfortable, smiling as he took my suitcase and started a conversation. The familiar warmth between us quickly returned.

During my month at home, he seemed busy. Other than the day he picked me up and a few days around New Year’s, I didn’t see much of him.

My mom mentioned that Daniel had been struggling lately. Because he didn’t have a degree, no company would hire him. Eventually, he found a job selling liquor, traveling all day to promote it and setting up a street stall at night.

In just a month, he lost a lot of weight, but he pushed through. With the help of a few good people, things started to improve.

“His family’s paid off their debts, and his business is starting to take off. He’s got potential,” my mom said, her admiration for Daniel evident in her voice.

After the break, Daniel saw me off again. He stayed with me in the waiting area, but this time, his eyes weren’t filled with sadness. Instead, they sparkled with a hopeful anticipation for the future.

“Boarding for train 310 from New York to Massachusetts will begin shortly,” the sweet voice of the announcer echoed through the station.

I stood up, dragging my suitcase toward the line.

“Jia Jia, I’ll come to Massachusetts to see you,” Daniel called out.

I turned to see him standing a short distance away, smiling at me with his hands in his pockets. His smile was as bright as the sunshine and as warm as a spring breeze.

Three months later, I went to meet him at the high-speed rail station. He was holding roses, standing in the crowd like the leading man in a movie. Everyone else blurred into the background, but he stood out in sharp focus.

Excited, I ran toward him. Just as I was about to crash into him, I realized I was rushing too much and quickly slowed my pace. But before I could stop, he reached out and pulled me into his arms. My face pressed against his collarbone, and my heart started racing, thumping wildly in my chest.

His embrace smelled faintly of wood and roses, like a rose garden on a misty morning.

After a moment, he let me go, pressed the roses into my arms, and took my hand.

Confused, I held the flowers and let him lead me away.

There were so many things I wanted to say, but I didn’t know where to start. I awkwardly trailed behind him, staring at the back of his head. His shoulders had broadened significantly, leaving behind the lean frame of his youth. Now, he looked reliable.

We finally stopped in front of an upscale restaurant.

During my year at Massachusetts, I had stayed at school, rarely leaving campus. After being admitted to Harvard, I realized that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep up with the naturally gifted students. I felt like I was drowning, struggling to stay afloat but constantly sinking.

It turns out, some efforts really don’t pay off. But I wasn’t ready to accept that. Couldn’t someone who worked hard at least have a little bit of talent?