The secret, once a source of thrilling intimacy, began to sprout thorns. The first one pricked Amelia during a video call with Sophie.
"So, give me the details!" Sophie chirped, her face pixelated with excitement. "How are things with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding? Any more rooftop confessions? Secret rendezvous?"
Amelia felt a familiar warmth spread through her chest, the urge to gush overwhelming. She wanted to tell Sophie about the way Adrian had read her a passage from a book he thought she'd love, his voice low and sure in the quiet of his apartment. She wanted to describe the feeling of his hand resting on the small of her back as they moved around his kitchen, a simple, domestic touch that felt more intimate than any kiss.
But the words stuck in her throat. Telling Sophie would make it real in a way it wasn't before. It would drag their beautiful, fragile secret out into the light of her old life, and it felt like a betrayal of the fortress they were building.
"Oh, you know," Amelia said, forcing a casual shrug and looking down at her notebook. "We're just… talking. It's complicated with his family stuff."
Sophie's smile faded slightly. "Talking? That's it? Amelia, after that rooftop, I thought…"
"It's just… slow," Amelia interrupted, the lie tasting like ash. "He's really busy with… the family foundation. Lots of events with Lillian." That part, at least, was true, and it served as a perfect, painful shield.
"Ugh, that ice queen," Sophie groaned, successfully diverted. "Well, don't you let her get her claws back in him!"
"I won't," Amelia murmured, the guilt a cold stone in her stomach. She was lying to her best friend. To protect Adrian? To protect herself? She wasn't even sure anymore.
The thorns dug deeper with Chloe. Her roommate was too perceptive, too present. She noticed when Amelia started wearing a delicate silver necklace she'd never seen before. She noticed when Amelia came back to the dorm late, her lips slightly swollen, her eyes holding a soft, dreamy haze.
"Hot date with the econ textbook?" Chloe had asked the night before, a knowing glint in her eye.
Amelia's heart had hammered against her ribs. "Something like that," she'd mumbled, diving into the bathroom and locking the door.
But the most painful thorn was Ethan. His quiet observation felt like a constant, gentle pressure on a bruise. He knew. She could feel it. And his silent judgment was worse than any confrontation. Every time she gave him a vague excuse for why she couldn't cover a shift or why she was in a rush to leave, she saw the faint disappointment in his eyes. She was lying to the person who had been her most steady, grounded friend on campus.
The breaking point came on a Friday night. Chloe was trying to rally her for a movie night in the common room with their floor mates a normal, simple college activity that suddenly felt a million miles away.
"Come on, Amelia! It'll be fun. You've been so MIA lately," Chloe pleaded.
And Amelia, already mentally halfway to Adrian's apartment, where he was waiting for her with takeout and the promise of a world where she didn't have to lie, said the words.
"I can't. I have to… I have a last-minute study group for my economics midterm. It's going to be a late one."
The lie was smooth, practiced now. But as she said it, she looked at Chloe's open, trusting face, and she felt a piece of her soul shrivel. This was who she was becoming. A liar.
Chloe just nodded, a little crestfallen. "Oh. Okay. Maybe next time."
Amelia practically fled the dorm, the guilt a hot, sick feeling in her gut. As she walked across the dark campus towards the waiting car, the thrill was gone, replaced by a hollow ache. She was trading her friends, her honesty, for stolen hours in a gilded cage.
When Adrian opened the door, his face lighting up at the sight of her, he immediately saw through her forced smile.
"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, pulling her inside and closing the door on the world.
And she wanted to tell him. She wanted to say that their secret was costing her pieces of herself. But looking at his face, at the one place she didn't have to pretend, the words died. How could she complain about lying to her friends when he was living a lie that could destroy his entire life?
So she just shook her head and leaned into his embrace, burying her face in his chest. "Nothing," she whispered, the biggest lie of all. "I'm just happy to be here."
He held her tightly, and for a moment, the hollowness was filled. But she knew it was temporary. The first lie had been told, and a crack had appeared in the foundation of the person she used to be. She could only wonder how many more it would take before she no longer recognized herself.