I looked at Noah for several seconds.

—Enough?

He stepped closer.

—Elena, go back to your residence. I’ll handle this.

I almost laughed.

Handle it.

Just like he’d handled the square by standing silently while Sophia humiliated me?

Sophia immediately moved beside him.

—See? Even Noah wants you to leave.

I ignored her.

My eyes stayed on him.

—Did you tell Sophia I was obsessed with you?

His expression changed.

—It’s complicated.

—Did you tell her I repeated the entrance exam because I was stalking you?

—No.

Sophia’s smile disappeared.

I asked another question.

—Did you tell her you promised to wait for me?

Noah looked away.

That was enough.

I nodded.

—Understood.

I turned around.

—Elena.

I stopped.

—What?

His voice lowered.

—Sophia’s father is Dean Reed.

Now I understood.

Her father controlled one of Westbridge’s most influential departments and sat on several university committees.

Noah had spent two years building his reputation here.

Student council.

Scholarships.

Recommendations.

Internships.

A future that finally looked perfect.

And apparently telling the truth might make that future inconvenient.

—So that’s why?

—I’m asking you to give me time.

—You had three years.

I walked away.

The next morning, I went somewhere Sophia hadn’t expected.

The university administration office.

I didn’t accuse anyone of anything I couldn’t prove.

I simply submitted evidence.

Screenshots of the posts containing my residence information.

Sophia’s audio message.

My conversation with her.

And most importantly, the recording from outside her residence.

Sophia hadn’t noticed my phone recording inside my jacket pocket.

Her voice was perfectly clear.

“Kneel.”

“Say you’ve been stalking Noah for six years.”

“The truth no longer matters.”

I requested an investigation.

Then I did something even harder.

I stopped chasing Noah for an explanation.

I blocked him.

I deleted the dinner reservation I’d made for our first night.

I put his old high-school notes into a box.

And I started attending class.

The first week was miserable.

Whispers followed me everywhere.

But something slowly changed.

Professor Bennett returned our first calculus assessment.

He placed mine facedown.

Ninety-four.

I checked twice.

The girl who had once celebrated barely passing mathematics had scored near the top of the class.

Professor Bennett stopped beside my desk.

—Ms. Reed.

I looked up nervously.

—Yes?

—Your solution to question seven used a method I didn’t teach.

I thought I was in trouble.

—Is that bad?

He almost smiled.

—No. It’s clever.

For the first time since arriving at Westbridge, someone looked at me without knowing anything about Noah.

I was simply Elena.

And apparently Elena wasn’t as stupid as everyone had decided.

Three days later, the university issued a notice.

The anonymous confession posts containing my personal information were removed pending investigation.

Then Sophia received a formal summons.

Suddenly, she stopped smiling when she saw me.

Noah found me outside the library that evening.

—You reported her?

I kept walking.

He followed.

—Elena.

I stopped.

—What?

—Sophia could lose her student council position.

—Then she shouldn’t have done what she did.

—Her father is furious.

I stared at him.

—Is that what worries you?

—I’m trying to protect you.

That almost made me angry.

—Noah, you watched her slap me twice.

He lowered his eyes.

—You watched people call me a stalker.

Silence.

—You knew why I came to Westbridge.

Still silence.

—And now you’re worried because the person who did it might face consequences?

—That’s not fair.

—Neither was what happened to me.

I walked away.

Two weeks passed.

Then the university investigation became bigger.

Much bigger.

Because someone had accessed my admissions records without authorization.

My entrance scores.

Previous attempts.

Address.

Residence assignment.

Even financial documents.

The access log led to an administrative account belonging to Dean Reed’s office.

Sophia’s father.

This was no longer campus gossip.

The university’s compliance department became involved.

Dean Reed was temporarily removed from admissions oversight while the matter was reviewed.

And suddenly, the same people who had laughed at me began deleting their comments.

Sophia posted:

“I never intended for anyone to harass Elena.”

That lasted twenty minutes.

Then someone uploaded my recording.

I hadn’t done it.

But everyone heard Sophia’s own voice demanding that I confess publicly to things she knew weren’t true.

The campus exploded.

That afternoon, Noah requested a meeting with the student council.

By evening, a video appeared on his account.

I nearly ignored it.

Then my roommate whispered:

—Elena, you need to see this.

Noah stood alone in front of the camera.

He looked exhausted.

“My name is Noah Grant.”

“I need to correct something I allowed people to believe.”

My heartbeat slowed.

“I knew Elena Reed before Westbridge.”

“She never stalked me.”

“She never knowingly interfered in my relationship.”

He paused.

“Three years ago, before I came here, I told Elena that I would wait for her.”

My roommate covered her mouth.

Noah continued.

“I helped her prepare for the entrance exam because I wanted her here.”

“And when she arrived and called me her boyfriend, she did so because I had never told her that I was dating someone else.”

Silence.

Then came the sentence that mattered most.

“When Sophia confronted Elena, I should have told the truth immediately.”

“I didn’t.”

“That was my decision.”

“And Elena paid for it.”

I turned off the video.

My roommate stared at me.

—Are you okay?

I thought about it.

—Yes.

And surprisingly, I meant it.

The next morning, Noah was waiting outside my classroom.

—Can we talk?

—You already said what needed to be said.

—Not to you.

I hesitated.

Then nodded.

We walked to the old courtyard.

He looked exactly like the boy I’d remembered for three years.

But I no longer felt like the girl who had spent those years running toward him.

—I was a coward.

I didn’t disagree.

—I started dating Sophia eight months ago.

—Okay.

—I should have told you.

—Yes.

He swallowed.

—At first I kept thinking I’d tell you after your next exam. Then after admissions. Then when you arrived.

He laughed bitterly.

—I kept postponing it because I didn’t want to lose you.

—So you let me arrive believing something that wasn’t true.

—I know.

I looked at him.

—Why didn’t you defend me in the square?

His answer took a long time.

—Sophia’s father recommended me for the Rhodesbridge fellowship.

There it was.

Not love.

Not confusion.

Ambition.

—And if you contradicted his daughter?

—I thought I could lose everything I’d worked for.

I nodded slowly.

—So you chose.

His eyes reddened.

—Yes.

—Then why are you here?

—Because I chose wrong.

I shook my head.

—Noah, you didn’t choose wrong.

He looked confused.

—You chose what mattered most to you at that moment.

That hurt him more.

—I still love you.

I closed my eyes briefly.

Three years ago, those words would have made every failed exam worthwhile.

Now they arrived after public humiliation.

After silence.

After I had learned that reaching Westbridge was never supposed to be the end of my journey.

—Maybe you loved the girl who kept chasing you.

I looked at him.

—But I’m not her anymore.

I left him there.

For the next semester, I rebuilt everything.

My grades climbed.

Professor Bennett invited me onto an undergraduate research team.

I made friends who knew nothing about my high-school reputation.

And eventually, walking through campus stopped feeling like walking through Noah Grant’s world.

It became mine.

Then, near the end of the semester, the university president summoned me.

When I entered his office, Professor Bennett was there.

So was the head of admissions.

And Dean Reed.

Sophia’s father looked furious.

The president gestured toward a chair.

—Ms. Reed, please sit down.

A folder rested on the desk.

My name was written across it.

I sat.

The admissions director opened it.

—During the investigation into unauthorized access to your records, we found something unexpected.

My stomach tightened.

—What?

She placed four documents in front of me.

My four Westbridge entrance examinations.

Attempt one.

Attempt two.

Attempt three.

Attempt four.

The last one had admitted me.

The director pointed toward my third attempt.

—Do you remember your score?

—Of course.

I had missed admission by six points.

She slid another sheet toward me.

—According to the original electronic record, you didn’t miss by six.

I stared at her.

—What?

—Your original score was eighteen points above the admission threshold.

I stopped breathing.

Professor Bennett’s expression hardened.

The director continued.

—Someone altered the result before final publication.

I looked automatically at Dean Reed.

He slammed his hand on the desk.

—I had nothing to do with that.

The president’s voice became cold.

—We haven’t said you did.

My hands trembled.

If that score had been published correctly, I would have entered Westbridge one year earlier.

One entire year of my life had been taken from me.

—Who changed it?

The admissions director hesitated.

—The credentials belonged to a student worker assigned to the admissions office.

She turned another page.

A name appeared.

I recognized it immediately.

Not Sophia.

Not Dean Reed.

Noah Grant.

I stared at the page.

—No.

The director quietly continued.

—Mr. Grant worked in admissions during the summer your third examination was processed.

My mind rejected it.

Noah had called me that year after the results.

I could still remember his voice.

“Don’t give up, Elena.”

“You’ll make it next year.”

“I’ll wait.”

The president pushed one final document toward me.

—We also recovered an internal message sent from Mr. Grant’s university account thirty minutes before your score was modified.

My fingers went numb.

There were only two sentences.

“Don’t admit her this year.”

“She isn’t ready to know the truth yet.”

And suddenly, Sophia’s betrayal no longer felt like the biggest secret waiting for me at Westbridge.

Because Noah hadn’t merely watched me struggle to reach him.

Someone using his account had apparently helped keep me away.