It was already the next train, yet she still hadn't managed to catch it.

At the beginning of their sophomore year, Dominic Harris officially asked Eden Anderson to be his girlfriend.

Eden asked, "Can we just try seeing each other for a while first?"

She wanted to try. She desperately wanted to know if she could force herself to accept someone new, to finally let someone else in.

Dominic agreed.

That weekend, Dominic took her out for dinner. He asked her what kind of food she liked, and she told him she was in the mood for some Cantonese dim sum.

In truth, Eden had eaten it plenty of times.

It was just that a little while ago, she had seen Bryce Anderson—who was attending university in New York—post a picture on Instagram of himself having a meal at a Cantonese bistro with some friends. Lucas Powell had commented on the post: "You should come visit me. I'll take you to get the real deal."

She didn't know when it started, but Eden had stopped being satisfied with just lurking on Lucas’s and Molly Lee’s feeds. She had started scouring the likes and comments of his mutuals, hunting for the tiniest trace of him. She almost never interacted with Bryce on social media, yet she would religiously like every post of his that Lucas had commented on. She knew it was childish, bordering on pathetic, but she did it over and over just to feel some shred of a connection—some microscopic sign that she existed in his orbit.

Dominic took her to an underground bistro and ordered all the house specialties marked on the menu.

The owner was a woman from London. While chatting with other customers, she mentioned that she used to run a shop right near a high school back home—the London Academy.

Almost every student at the Academy had eaten at her place at least once.

Eden’s fingers, gripping her chopsticks, gave a slight tremor.

She wasn't very hungry that day, but she forced herself to finish every bite of the food on the table. Dominic didn't eat much; he spent the entire time trying to make conversation. By the time they left, she had already forgotten almost everything he’d said.

All she remembered was the owner saying that eating at her shop was the closest thing to actually being back in London.

For the rest of the semester, between her classes and her duties in the Student Council, Eden and Dominic would occasionally grab a bite or walk around campus. They kept a safe, polite distance, sticking to safe topics like school and current events. A few people from the council caught them eating together in the cafeteria once and assumed they were a couple.

Was it a relationship?

How could two people really be dating if they hadn't even held hands? She knew it was unfair to Dominic. She pushed herself to take that step, but she failed every single time. She would feel a wave of guilt, whispering to herself, *Next time. Just give me more time.*

Dominic was naturally gentle, possessing an endless supply of patience for her. But Eden knew that even the deepest patience has a breaking point.

On the night of their final exam of the spring semester, Eden and Dominic went to the premiere of a comedy. After the grueling exhaustion of finals week, she finally felt a flicker of relaxation. A line in the movie made her laugh, and in a rare moment of spontaneity, she tugged on his sleeve, leaning in closer, her eyes crinkling as she asked him if he found it funny, too.

Dominic watched her, silent. Then, he leaned in.

She felt him testing the waters.

She knew he wanted to kiss her.

Yet, her body recoiled on instinct. She sat stiff as a board, a wave of nausea and unease washing over her. She grabbed her bag and bolted from her seat, blurting out, "I have to go," before he could even blink.

Dominic didn't stand up to chase her. He didn't say a word to stop her.

She walked with a frantic pace, hitting the subway escalator immediately after leaving the theater. She navigated security and the turnstiles with muscle memory, folding herself into the crushing tide of commuters, suffocating in the crowded train car.

In her two years of college, she had ridden almost every subway line in Beijing. She had seen every type of face, every type of life pass her by in those tunnels. But she knew that among them, there would never be Lucas Powell.

Beijing was so vast. It had everything. Everything, that is, except for him.

Shortly after starting college, she had found Lucas's Instagram through Bryce’s page.

And through Lucas's page, she had found Molly Lee’s.

Molly rarely posted about their relationship.

Eden hadn't seen a single photo of the two of them together. Mostly, it was just Molly’s mundane daily musings, always starting with, *My brother did this,* or, *My brother said that.*

Then, six months ago, Molly posted a picture of herself looking intimate with another boy, captioned with a single word: "Official."

When Eden saw that, she couldn't name the feeling in her chest.

She checked Lucas's profile again. It remained unchanged—a few landscape shots, a few photos of him playing basketball. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Whether they had broken up or not, what did that have to do with her?

That’s what she told herself.

But it had everything to do with her.

Like right now—Eden, having fled the theater like a coward, shivering in the subway car—suddenly realized how much she missed him.

If she couldn't accept anyone else, if she couldn't even accept someone as good as Dominic, couldn't she just go find Lucas?

Eden felt like she had lost her mind.

Back in her dorm, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep as the night bled into the early morning light.

Khloe Nelson had already packed her bags and left for the break. Eden felt like she was suffocating, desperate to talk to someone.

To talk to someone about Lucas.

At 5:00 AM, she pulled out her phone, hesitated, and dialed Bryce’s number.

"So early... everything okay?" Bryce’s voice was thick with sleep.

"You're not up yet?"

"...It’s five in the morning, Eden."

Bryce yawned. "Why are you calling? What’s up?"

Eden suddenly didn't know how to start.

How do you even say it? *I'm in love with Lucas Powell. Can you help me?*

She couldn't do it.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep."

She hung up, stared at the wall, and sent a message to Shelby Rivera on iMessage.

"You up?"

Before the message even delivered, an audio call prompt chimed.

"I'm out for a morning run. Did you just wake up or did you not sleep at all? Insomnia again?" Shelby’s voice was breathless.

"Yeah. Insomnia again," Eden said.

"You really need to start taking those herbs. Do you still have the melatonin I sent? Do I need to mail you more?"

"Shelby."

"Yeah?"

"I told you before that a senior in my department asked me out, right?"

"Yeah, you said you were going to give it a shot."

"I did. It didn't work. I’ve realized... I don't think I’m capable of liking anyone."

"That's just because you haven't actually liked anyone yet. You don't know what it feels like."

"Actually, no one has really liked me, either."

"What are you talking about?" Shelby laughed, annoyed. "There isn't a guy on campus who wouldn't be into you."

"Who says?" Eden finally blurted out the truth. "Lucas Powell didn't."

Eden murmured, "He probably hates me."

"Lucas?" Shelby frowned, thinking for a moment. "He doesn't hate you.

"We don't talk anymore, sure. But back in high school? He never once said he hated you. If anything, you were the one who seemed to hate him."

"He didn't like me, though," Eden insisted.

"How could he? You looked at him like he was your sworn enemy every time he walked into a room. If I were him, I wouldn't have dared to approach you either."

"Then do you think..."

*Do you think if I made the first move, he might change his mind?*

"Think what?" Shelby asked.

"Nothing."

"Don't overthink it, Eden. That guy you're dating is a genuinely good person. Take it slow. Love is messy when you're just starting out."

"Yeah. I know. Thanks, Shelby."

"Go get some breakfast, alright?"

Eden hung up. She lay there, one thought looping in her brain: *What if I just... did it?*

What if she just went to see him? She would go to him, see him face-to-face, put her pride in a trash can, and confess every secret she had been rotting under for years.

She would tell Lucas, *I never actually hated you. I loved you. I’ve always loved you.*

*I only love you.*

She would tell him, *I didn't ignore you in high school on purpose. I was mean to you because you were with Molly. I was hurting, I was so incredibly hurt, and that’s why I was like that.*

She would tell him, *I fought to get into the City Academy just to see you. I didn't turn down Julian Smith because I was interested, I did it because I was looking for you. Every time I "happened" to pass your classroom door to drop off papers? That was all for you. I even wanted to study in London—just because I was terrified of never seeing you again.*

She would tell him, *The night I skipped my exam to confront Kane Perez, when I jumped into the back alley to take that glass bottle for you—it was all because I loved you. I want you to know I’m not just the Eden who leans on you and lashes out. I can protect you, too.*

She would tell him, *In all the years we’ve been apart, I’ve missed you so much it hurts.*

*So, Lucas... could you ever love me?*

*Would you still tell me, like you did when we were twelve, that we'll be together forever?*

*Would you still be willing to tolerate an imperfect, sharp-tongued Eden with no bottom line?*

The questions flooded her mind, an internal dam bursting. She couldn't wait another second.

She had waited too long.

Her pent-up emotions had become a volcano, triggered by that almost-kiss with Dominic, finally erupting. She couldn't keep lying to herself. She couldn't start a new life because no one—*no one*—was Lucas Powell.

She grabbed her phone and opened Instagram. She went to his profile, as she did every single day. She saw a post he’d made in the comments section just last night: he was in Shanghai, and he’d be heading back to London the day after tomorrow.

Her heart hammered against her ribs.

Her hands shook as she opened a travel app, checking the earliest flight from Beijing to Shanghai. It wasn't early enough. She checked the trains.

All the seated tickets were sold out. She bought a standing ticket.

Five hours. It was only five hours of standing. If she could just stand for five hours, she would see him.

At 5:00 AM, the sky was a bruised, early grey.

Eden pulled on her favorite dress, applied her makeup with precise, trembling hands, and walked out the dorm with nothing but a backpack.

On the way to the station, she could hear the pulse thumping against her temples. Her heart was a frantic drum.

It felt as if, in the very next second, she would be standing in front of him.

Lucas, whom she had loved for so many years.

This time, she wouldn't speak in riddles.

She wouldn't retreat. She wouldn't be stubborn. She wouldn't push him away.

She was done pushing him away.

She arrived at the Beijing station by 7:00 AM. The hall was a sea of people, long queues snaking out from every boarding gate.

She found her gate and joined the back of the line, mindlessly scrolling through her phone, defaulting to his profile again.

Then, she saw it. A new post he had liked. Her hands froze.

It was a girl’s post. Simple. A photo and a caption.

The photo was a silhouette of a boy in a white shirt, standing by the riverfront.

The caption was a short phrase: *my boy.*

Lucas’s silhouette.

*My boy.*

The station announcement blared, signaling the start of boarding. But the world had gone silent for Eden. She couldn't hear a thing.

The crowd behind her surged forward, shoving her, slamming into her shoulders. She stood like a statue, staring blankly at the screen. She didn't feel the bruises forming; she didn't feel the sting of the people bumping into her.

A single tear hit the screen, blurring the tall, familiar shadow of the boy until he vanished into the light of the display.

Without realizing it, the boarding window closed. The hall grew empty. She was the only one left standing in front of the gate.

She finally lowered her phone, sank to the floor, and pulled her knees to her chest. The tears didn't stop; they poured out, hot and heavy, onto the cold floor.

How could Lucas be so cruel?

Of all the people in the world, he was the one she hated the most.

"Are you alright, dear? Did you miss your train?" An old woman passing by stopped, looking at her with concern. "It's alright, don't cry. There’s always another one."

Eden looked up, her face a map of tears. She shook her head, her voice a mangled, choked sob: "This was already the next train."

It was already the next train, yet she still hadn't managed to catch it.