The next morning, Nicolás was waiting outside my house.

I saw him through my bedroom window.

White T-shirt.

Black backpack.

Two bottles of soy milk in his hand.

Exactly like every morning before school.

As if nothing had happened.

My phone vibrated.

Nico: Come down.

Then another message.

Nico: I bought breakfast.

I stared at the screen.

In the past, one message from him could make me change clothes three times.

Today, I went downstairs wearing an old sweatshirt.

Nicolás looked at me strangely.

“You left the group.”

“Yes.”

“Paula said you’re angry.”

I walked past him.

He followed.

“Lucía.”

I stopped.

“What?”

He held out the soy milk.

“Your favorite.”

“I already ate.”

His hand remained suspended between us.

Then he laughed.

“Are you seriously still angry?”

I looked at him.

For the first time, I noticed how natural his confidence was.

He genuinely believed I couldn’t stay angry with him.

Maybe because I never had.

He forgot my birthday once.

I forgave him.

He borrowed my notes and gave them to another girl.

I forgave him.

He canceled our movie plans because Paula invited him somewhere else.

I forgave him.

Every time he hurt me, I found the excuse before he needed one.

But changing my university applications wasn’t forgetting a birthday.

“You could have ruined my future.”

His smile faded.

“But I didn’t.”

“You changed all six choices.”

“I knew you’d notice.”

“Ten minutes before the deadline.”

“You still fixed them.”

He said it so casually that I almost admired him.

“So because I managed to save myself, what you did doesn’t matter?”

Nicolás frowned.

“You’re making this much bigger than it was.”

There it was.

The sentence people use when your pain inconveniences them.

I nodded.

“Okay.”

He seemed relieved.

“Good. Then let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“School.”

“I’m not going with you.”

His face changed.

“We always go together.”

“Not anymore.”

I walked away.

For the first time since we were children, Nicolás didn’t know what to say.

The next few weeks passed strangely.

Graduation.

Photos.

Family dinners.

People discussing admissions.

I stopped sitting with Paula.

I stopped answering the class group after someone added me back.

And I stopped waiting for Nicolás.

At first, nobody took it seriously.

They thought I was punishing him.

Paula cornered me after graduation rehearsal.

“How long are you going to keep this up?”

“Keep what up?”

“This.”

She gestured at me.

“You know Nico hates apologizing.”

“That’s his problem.”

“He already admitted the joke went too far.”

“No. He said I was overreacting.”

Paula sighed.

“You’ve liked him since middle school. Are you really going to throw all that away?”

I looked at her.

“You knew they’d changed my applications for two days.”

She went quiet.

“You could have messaged me.”

“We knew you’d fix it!”

“How?”

“You’re Lucía. You always solve everything.”

I almost laughed.

“So because I’m capable of cleaning up the mess, you’re allowed to make it?”

She had no answer.

That was the last real conversation we had.

Then admission results arrived.

My father was the one who shouted.

“Lucía!”

I ran into the living room.

He was staring at the laptop.

My mother stood behind him with both hands over her mouth.

I looked at the screen.

Harbin University of Technology.

Admitted.

Aerospace Engineering.

For several seconds, I couldn’t move.

Then my mother hugged me.

My father shouted so loudly that our neighbor knocked to ask what had happened.

I laughed.

I cried.

And suddenly Harbin wasn’t a city I’d chosen because it was far from Nicolás.

It was mine.

That evening, my phone exploded.

Someone had posted everyone’s admissions in the class group.

Paula: Lucía got HIT!!!

Others congratulated me.

Then Nicolás sent a private message.

Nico: You really got in?

I looked at it.

Lucía: Yes.

Three dots appeared.

Nico: I got Nankai.

I knew he would.

Once, that sentence would have made me miserable.

Instead, I typed:

Lucía: Congratulations.

He called immediately.

I hesitated, then answered.

“Hello?”

“You’re really going to Harbin?”

“Yes.”

“That’s far.”

“I know.”

“Like… really far.”

“I can read maps, Nico.”

He was silent.

Then:

“What about Nankai?”

“What about it?”

“You wanted to go there.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Because of the party?”

I walked onto the balcony.

“No.”

That was the truth.

The party had only forced me to look at something I’d avoided for years.

“I changed my mind because I realized I was choosing a university around you.”

Silence.

“I don’t want to do that anymore.”

His voice became strange.

“Lucía, I never asked you to.”

“I know.”

That was perhaps the saddest part.

He had never promised me anything.

I had simply built my plans around every casual sentence he made.

Nicolás exhaled.

“So you’re just leaving?”

“Yes.”

“What about us?”

I almost asked what us meant.

Instead, I stayed quiet.

He answered himself.

“We’ve known each other since we were six.”

“And?”

“And you can’t disappear because of one stupid joke.”

“It wasn’t one joke.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve spent years treating everything you do as more important than what I want.”

My voice remained calm.

“You didn’t make me do that. I did it myself.”

He didn’t speak.

“So I’m stopping.”

I hung up.

Two months later, I stood at the train station with two suitcases.

My mother cried.

My father checked my ticket four times.

Then someone shouted my name.

“Lucía!”

I turned.

Nicolás was running toward us.

He stopped in front of me, breathless.

My parents exchanged looks and politely moved away.

Nicolás held something in his hand.

A small box.

“Open it.”

Inside was a keychain.

An astronaut.

Years ago, we’d seen one like it in a store.

I’d wanted it.

He’d laughed and said:

“You? An astronaut? You get dizzy on roller coasters.”

I looked up.

“I found it yesterday.”

I closed the box.

“Thank you.”

His expression fell.

That wasn’t the reaction he’d expected.

“That’s all?”

“What else should I say?”

He stared at me.

Then suddenly:

“Don’t go.”

My fingers tightened around the box.

“What?”

“Go to Tianjin.”

I thought I’d misheard him.

“My university starts next week.”

“You can transfer later.”

“Nico.”

“I’ll help you.”

I stared at him.

He genuinely thought this was romantic.

Two months ago, I might have thought so too.

Now it sounded absurd.

“You want me to give up aerospace engineering at HIT because you finally noticed I’m leaving?”

His face reddened.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How did you mean it?”

“I just…”

For once, Nicolás Rivera had no clever answer.

The boarding announcement sounded.

I picked up my suitcase.

He grabbed the handle.

“Lucía.”

I looked at his hand.

He released it.

Then he asked quietly:

“Did you really like me that much?”

I smiled.

“Yes.”

His eyes changed.

Perhaps he had expected me to deny it.

“Then how can you leave?”

That question gave me my final answer.

Because even now, Nicolás believed loving him should mean choosing him.

“I liked you very much.”

I stepped backward.

“But I like the person I’m becoming without you more.”

Then I boarded the train.

I didn’t look back.

Not immediately.

But when the train began moving, I finally turned toward the window.

Nicolás was still standing on the platform.

Getting smaller.

Farther away.

Until he disappeared.

My phone vibrated.

A message from an unknown number.

Hello, Lucía Walker? I’m Professor Chen from the aerospace program. I reviewed your entrance materials. When you arrive, I’d like to discuss joining our freshman research group.

I read it twice.

Then three times.

A research group?

Before classes had even begun?

I smiled so widely that the woman sitting beside me laughed.

“Good news?”

“The best.”

Three years later, I stood inside a university laboratory wearing protective glasses while our experimental propulsion system completed its first successful test.

I had scholarships.

Research publications.

Friends who had never seen me as someone’s shadow.

And a recommendation for an exchange program overseas.

That night, after our team went out to celebrate, Paula sent me a message for the first time in almost a year.

Paula: Lucía, are you awake?

I almost ignored it.

Then another appeared.

Paula: It’s about Nico.

I stared at the name.

Nothing hurt.

That surprised me.

Lucía: What happened?

Her reply came immediately.

Paula: He found out who actually projected your applications at prom.

I frowned.

Lucía: You did.

Three dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Returned.

Then Paula sent:

Paula: No. I connected the laptop.

Paula: But Nico never told me to show your real password.

My smile disappeared.

Another message.

Paula: Someone sent it to me anonymously that afternoon, along with screenshots of your private messages about Nico.

My fingers became cold.

Screenshots?

I had never told Paula everything.

Especially not the messages stored in my private draft folder.

Then the final message appeared.

Paula: Lucía, whoever hacked your application account wasn’t just trying to embarrass you.

Paula: They wanted you to miss the deadline completely.

I sat motionless in the restaurant.

Three years ago, I had believed Nicolás’s cruel prank had accidentally pushed me toward a better life.

But now, for the first time, I wondered whether the joke I’d escaped with ten minutes remaining had never been a joke at all.