The leaves had turned amber and gold, blanketing the sidewalks in soft crunches and signaling the heart of October. The air smelled of cinnamon and coffee, and campus buzzed with talk of Halloween events and midterm stress.
But for Athena, this October meant something more.
It had been exactly one year.
One year since she and Mason chose each other over everything. Over Brooke. Over rivalry. Over doubt. She remembered every moment of that night—the way his hands trembled slightly when he held hers, the warmth of his kiss, and the whispered promise that they were in this together.
She had spent the week planning something small but meaningful. She'd cooked his favorite meal—lasagna—and even wore the hoodie he gave her the night of their first kiss, the one that still smelled faintly like his cologne. She had lit a single candle on the kitchen table and placed the anniversary gift—a leather-bound journal with his initials and a note tucked inside—by his plate.
It was simple.
But it was filled with love.
The clock ticked past 9:47 p.m. when the door finally opened.
Mason walked in, laughing at something on his phone, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was damp from a late shower, and he didn't even notice the soft lighting or the effort in the meal waiting for him.
"Hey," he said, not looking up, thumbs still typing rapidly. "Harper just sent the dumbest meme—hold on."
Athena's heart sank. Her voice was small. "Mason…"
He glanced up for a split second. "Yeah?"
She swallowed hard. "Do you know what today is?"
He paused, blinking. "Uhh… Monday?"
Her chest tightened. "It's our anniversary, Mason."
The silence that followed was sharp and suffocating.
"Oh… crap," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I forgot. I've been swamped with practice and—"
"And Harper?" Athena snapped before she could stop herself.
He flinched. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Athena's eyes shimmered with hurt. "It means I've been here, waiting, every day, trying to hold us together, while you spend all your time with someone who clearly means more to you than I do."
"That's not fair, Athena," he said, his tone hardening. "Harper actually listens without accusing me every time I walk through the door."
The words hit her like a slap.
Her throat closed. "So I'm the problem now?"
"I didn't say that," Mason shot back, his voice rising. "But you've been acting like everything I do is wrong. Maybe if you weren't so damn needy, we'd be fine!"
Athena's breath caught.
There it was.
The crack. The shatter.
She stood, the chair scraping loudly against the tile as she pushed away from the table. Tears pooled in her eyes as she whispered, "I spent all day trying to remind you of us. And you chose to forget."
She grabbed her coat, her voice trembling. "I won't beg you to love me, Mason."
And with that, she ran out the door—past the cold October wind, past the strangers on the street, and into the night with her heart in pieces.