Mason's POV
The next morning felt heavier than usual. The halls buzzed with their usual chatter, lockers slamming, shoes squeaking—but none of it reached me. My mind was set on one thing, one person. Elise.
I had texted her early that morning.
[Meet me at the rooftop before lunch. I need to talk to you.]
Normally, she'd reply within minutes, sometimes seconds, even if it was just a "Sure" or a teasing emoji. But this time… nothing. No response.
I told myself she was just busy—but even as I tried to believe that, the pit in my stomach deepened. Because what I'd heard yesterday kept echoing in my head.
When Luke and I met up last night, I was ranting about how distant Elise had seemed lately. He looked uneasy, fidgeting with his wristband until finally blurting it out:
"Mason, I don't know how true this is, man—but I heard she's engaged."
At first, I laughed. It sounded impossible. Then I stopped laughing, because Luke looked serious.
He told me one of his cousins, who worked part-time at the local café, had overheard Mr. Jones talking about Ms. Morgan's fiancé visiting soon. I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't. But the moment he said those words, every unanswered message, every flicker of hesitation she ever showed me suddenly made sense.
And now, sitting here waiting for a reply that never came, only confirmed what I already feared: it was true.
The bell rang after my first class, sharp and distant. I didn't bother waiting for lunch anymore. I grabbed my bag and went straight to her office.
When I reached the door, it was locked. I knocked once. No answer. So I tried the handle again—this time, it turned. I stepped inside, closing it quietly behind me. The place smelled faintly like coffee and lavender. The stack of papers on her desk was still neatly aligned, and her cup sat half full, forgotten.
I sat down on the couch, my hands fisted tightly on my knees. Every second I waited made the anger rise deeper in my chest—anger that felt less like rage and more like heartbreak pretending to be rage.
What hurt most wasn't that she had someone else. It was that she hadn't trusted me enough to tell me. That everything we'd shared—the touches, the late-night calls, the laughter—had been woven with a lie.
After a few long minutes, the door opened.
"Elise," I said quietly.
She froze in the doorway, surprised but not alarmed. Our eyes met, and I watched her expression shift from calm to concern.
"Mason," she said, trying to sound casual. "You shouldn't be here during class hours."
But her tone faltered when she saw my face.
I stood up slowly. "We need to talk."
She set her papers on the desk. "About what?"
Something in me snapped. I moved before I thought. My hand closed around her wrist, firm but trembling, and I turned, pressing her back gently—but urgently—against the wall beside her filing shelves.
Her eyes widened.
"What are you doing?" she whispered, startled.
"I just want to know one thing," I said, my voice low and shaking. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Her lips parted slightly. "Tell you what?"
"That you're engaged."
The silence that followed felt endless. She didn't deny it. She didn't even try. Her shoulders fell slightly, and that silence was all the answer I needed.
When I spoke again, my voice cracked. "All this time… you let me think that what we had actually meant something."
Elise looked away, her breath uneven. "Mason—"
"You knew how I felt," I continued, the words pouring out before I could stop them. "You knew I wasn't playing around, but I guess to you it was just another game, huh? Another assignment to pass the time?"
She sighed, quietly pulling her hand from my grip.
I stepped back, my pulse loud in my ears.
"You lied. You made me believe this was something real."
For a long moment, she didn't speak. Then she exhaled, composed herself, and walked to her desk, the sound of her heels soft but final. She sat down, folding her trembling hands together.
"Mason," she began gently, "you have no right to be angry with me."
I blinked, stunned. "Excuse me?"
"You have no right," she repeated, more firmly this time. "I never promised you anything. From the beginning, we both knew this was not—could not be—serious. We are not in a relationship. We are not dating. No one even knows what we do outside these walls. It was never… meant to be more than what it was."
Each word hit harder than the last.
She didn't raise her voice, but she may as well have shouted.
I stared at her, my throat tightening painfully. "So that's it? That's what all of this was—just fun and games to you?"
Her lips pressed together, eyes glinting with guilt she didn't say out loud. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Mason."
Something inside me shattered quietly at that word. Mistake.
I wanted to yell, to demand she take it back, to tell her she was lying not just to me, but to herself—but my voice wouldn't come. My chest hurt, my eyes burned, and before I knew it, I felt the warmth of tears sliding down my face.
She looked up at me then, startled, her expression softening instantly. "Mason…"
But before she could finish, I was already walking to the door, my vision blurring. My hand rested on the knob for a second longer than it should have.
Elise's POV
The door closed behind him, and for a long time, there was nothing but the sharp silence of the room.
I stood frozen by my desk, his voice still echoing in my ears, every word sharper than a blade. I wanted to run after him, to tell him that I hadn't lied, that it wasn't all a game. That I'd genuinely cared for him more than I ever should have.
But I didn't.
Because the truth was, he was right to be furious. I should have told him. About everything. Not because he deserved an explanation as a student, but because he deserved honesty as a person.
I sank slowly into my chair, my shaking hands covering my face.
The guilt was unbearable. Not just because I'd hidden the truth, but because when he looked at me one last time before leaving, I saw the heartbreak I had caused.
I whispered into the empty room, "I'm sorry, Mason."
I thought about calling him, about texting something—anything—to fix what I'd broken, but stopped before touching my phone. I knew there was nothing I could say that would make this right.
And now, he was gone.