(Ethan's POV)
I've always hated the word almost.
It sounds like a promise that flinched at the last second.
Like something that wanted to be real—but wasn't brave enough.
That's what keeps echoing in my head.
That night.
That moment.
That almost.
It was a few weeks ago, the night we stayed late cleaning after the first mental health workshop. The psych department lounge was half-lit, half-silent. Aditya had left, saying he had to make a call. Amelia and Jonathan in their own little world.
It was just me and Alexis.
Our laptops between us.
Cups of cold coffee.
Her hair was falling out of the loose bun she'd stabbed with a pen.
She smelled like vanilla and storm clouds.
We weren't even talking.
We were just… breathing. Together.
And then she looked up.
Eyes tired. Jaw tense. That look she gets when she's trying not to feel anything.
She said something like:
"I cried after reading a quote?"
And I remember saying:
"That's what made it amazing."
I meant it.
Every word.
And for a second—I swear to God—she leaned in.
Just slightly.
Her shoulder brushed mine.
Our knees bumped.
And I stopped breathing.
Because she looked at me like I was something she wanted to believe in.
And I leaned forward—
Then Aditya strolled in while still on the phone and the moment shattered like cheap glass.
She pulled back.
Laughed awkwardly.
Said, "We should probably go now, it's getting late."
And I nodded. Said something dumb.
Like "Yeah, good idea."
Even though my hands were shaking under the table.
I haven't stopped thinking about it.
I've played it over in my head a hundred times.
That angle of her face.
That tension in her hands.
The way she didn't move away.
I should've kissed her.
Or maybe I shouldn't have.
Maybe that would have ruined everything.
God, I don't know.
And now?
Now she's gone.
Back to her dorm.
After a workshop that nearly exploded in front of professors, parents, and an entire auditorium full of spectators who had no idea how many secrets were on that stage.
After Noah taped a printed copy of her sketch to the back wall with that stupid, smug little note:
"Who is a? Why are they hiding?"
She looked like she was going to pass out.
I didn't say anything.
But I knew.
She's "a."
It was her posture. Her style. Her sadness—painted in strokes no one else could replicate.
And Noah?
He's watching her too closely. Asking questions with too much interest.
He's trying to figure it out.
He likes her.
Of course he does.
Who wouldn't?
And then there's Aditya.
Freaking Aditya. With his smooth jokes and shiny teeth and that whole "Are we engaged or something?" moment that made my jaw clench so tight I couldn't speak.
She laughed, man. She laughed.
Punched him on the arm like they've been besties since birth.
And I just stood there. Watching.
Feeling like I'd just been shoved off a cliff I didn't know I was standing on.
I haven't heard from her since she left.
No texts.
No late-night memes.
Not even a passive-aggressive playlist update.
Amelia says she just needs space.
But what if she doesn't come back the same?
What if she comes back and he's still around?
What if I missed my shot?
I don't even know what she is to me anymore.
I mean, I thought I did.
At first, she was just this intense, smart, borderline terrifying girl who drank her coffee like it owed her money and didn't believe in small talk.
Then she was my project partner.
Then she was my friend.
Then she was… something more. Something I couldn't name without ruining it.
But what now?
Is she my crush?
My maybe?
My almost?
Or am I just someone she talks to when she's unraveling?
Am I just her emotional support golden retriever?
I don't know what I want from her.
Okay, that's a lie. I do.
I want the version of her that looks at me like I matter.
The version that trusts me enough to stay in the silence.
The version that leaned in.
But I also want her to be okay.
Even if it's not with me.
Even if it's with Aditya—God, that hurts to think out loud.
I pulled out my sketchbook tonight.
Not the shared psych notes one. The private one.
I started drawing her again. I didn't mean to.
Her eyebrows when she's annoyed.
Her hands. The way her thumb traces her palm when she's anxious.
I flipped the page before I could finish.
Sketched Noah.
Then scratched it out.
Sketched Aditya.
Then scratched harder.
I stared at the blank space in the middle.
"This is what it feels like," I muttered. "To be in the middle of something and not know which way is forward."
I grabbed a pen. Wrote one line at the bottom:
"Who is she to me?
And why does losing her feel like I'm being erased?"
I don't have answers.
But I know this:
I miss her voice.
I miss her arguments.
I miss the version of myself I only become when she's around.
And I'm starting to wonder…
Was that almost supposed to mean something?
Or was it just one more thing we'll pretend didn't happen?