Light Is Elsewhere

On the first day of our sophomore year, Cassidy—who had just been voted the department’s "itgirl"—stopped me in my tracks. "Maeve, is it true that you and Lucas are childhood sweethearts?" "If I get selected as the freshman representative at convocation, would you mind... letting me have him?" Under the white orientation tents, the bustling campus suddenly went dead silent.

I opened my mouth to speak. But Lucas, who had been holding the umbrella over my head, suddenly pulled his hand back.

His voice was cool, his eyes heavy with an impatience and exhaustion that cut straight through me. "You don’t have to wait for convocation.

You can have him now." He turned his gaze to me, cold and distant. "Maeve, you’re an adult.

Can you stop clinging to me all the time?" Cassidy blinked, caught off guard, before a smug, triumphant smile spread across her face. "Well, I guess twelve years of history doesn't mean much after all." Lucas didn't defend me.

Instead, he nudged my heavy suitcase aside and took Cassidy’s lightweight backpack from her hands.

Watching him walk away without a single backward glance, a wave of nausea washed over me. Twelve years of devotion suddenly felt like ash in my mouth.

If the falling leaves belong to the wind, then it was time for me to find my own path. … I dragged my suitcase up to the fourth floor by myself.

The bag was heavy, the wheels clattering loudly against the edge of each concrete step, echoing in the stairwell.

My roommate, Abby, heard the commotion and ran down to help me lift the last flight. "Where's your family?

Why are you hauling all of this alone?" I forced a small smile. "They're busy." But they weren't.

My mom had called Lucas first thing this morning, reminding him that I had a weak constitution and asking him to look out for me.

Even Aunt Susan had laughed on the phone, saying, "Don't you worry, Helen. With Lucas there, Maeve is in good hands.

He's been protecting her since they were in diapers." But today, the person Lucas was protecting wasn't me. As I finished making my bed, my phone buzzed on the mattress.

A text from Lucas. "Where's your dorm? I'll have my mom send over a desk lamp for you." I stared at the screen and didn't reply.

Ten minutes later, another text arrived. "Maeve, how long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?" I flipped the phone facedown on the sheets.

Abby leaned over, curiosity in her eyes. "Boyfriend?" "No," I said quietly, my voice entirely flat. "Just a guy from back home." Before she could ask more, Abby pointed out the window. "Whoa, look at that guy down there.

He's gorgeous." I followed her gaze. Down in the courtyard, Lucas was bending over to pick up Cassidy's luggage.

He slung two massive duffel bags effortlessly over his shoulders and carried them up the steps. Cassidy stood beside him, smiling as she handed him a bottle of water.

Lucas took it, twisted the cap, and drank. Watching them, my throat tightened, a sharp, familiar ache blooming behind my eyes.

Throughout our three years of high school, I had handed Lucas water countless times. After basketball games, after latenight academic decathlons, after grueling study sessions.

He had never accepted a single bottle from me. He used to say, "Maeve, don't do this.

Take care of your own things." It wasn't that he refused to drink water handed to him by others. It was just that the person offering it couldn't be me.

I turned toward the wall and lay down. Thinking I was exhausted, Abby quietly pulled the bed curtains shut to give me some privacy.

In the dimness of my bunk, I kept my eyes wide open. The tears burned, but I didn't let them fall.

Suddenly, those twelve years felt like a solo performance, a play where I was the only actor on stage, and the audience had left long ago.

In the afternoon, I walked over to the Study Abroad Office.

The advisor scrolled through the database for a long time, looking apologetic. "Maeve, you voluntarily withdrew from the Paris exchange program last semester.

That slot was already passed on to the runnerup." "If you want to reapply, you'll need signatures from both the department chair and your faculty advisor." "There's only one spot left, and the deadline is the fifteenth of next month." I nodded slowly. "I understand.

Thank you, Mrs. Abernathy." Walking out of the building, I stopped in front of the glass display board. The list of last year's selected exchange students was still pinned there.

Behind my name, someone had drawn a thick, red line.

Next to it, a single word was written in sharp print: "Withdrawn." Six months ago, I had secured the department's sole fullyfunded exchange spot.

I had worked on that research proposal since my freshman year, pulling countless allnighters to perfect it.

The day I received the acceptance letter, Lucas was the very first person I called.

He was silent for a long time over the receiver, before saying quietly: "If you go to Paris for a year, who's going to organize my competition materials?" He didn't say he would miss me.

He didn't say he couldn't bear to let me go. Yet, I had still withdrawn my application. Because back then, I foolishly believed he needed me.

I stood in front of the board, staring at the red line for a long time. Finally, I pulled out my phone and took a photo. Not to remember what I lost. But to remind myself.

This time, there would be no turning back. That evening, Abby dragged me to the campus diner.

We had just sat down when she nudged my elbow. "Hey, that guy from your hometown is here." I looked up. Lucas and Cassidy were sitting at a booth directly across from us.

Cassidy was hovering over the menu, looking indecisive. "Lucas, is this good?

Is that one too spicy?" Lucas took the menu from her hand, patiently explaining each dish. "This one is a bit sweet; you’ll like it.

Avoid that one, it's too greasy." Cassidy giggled, her eyes shining. "How do you know everything?" A faint smile actually touched the corners of Lucas's mouth.

I remembered my first week as a freshman.

I had dragged Lucas to this very diner, vibrating with excitement. "Let's try every single thing on the menu this year, okay?" His face had remained entirely blank. "Maeve, you need someone to hold your hand just to eat a meal?

Grow up." Back then, I made excuses for him. "He's just reserved.

He doesn't know how to express his feelings." But now, watching him, his patience was laid out before Cassidy, soft and meticulous, like a finely woven safety net.

I lowered my head and took a bite of my food. The soup tasted incredibly salty. So salty it made my throat ache. "Are you okay?" Abby asked gently. I put down my fork. "Yeah.

I'm just not very hungry." Around nine that night, I had just walked out of the shower when Abby poked her head into the room. "Maeve, someone's downstairs for you.

Looks like your hometown friend." I threw a cardigan over my shoulders, my damp hair clinging to my neck, and went downstairs.

Lucas was standing beneath the amber glow of the streetlight, holding a paper shopping bag. "Your mom asked me to bring you some of your fall sweaters." I took the bag from him. "Thanks." I turned to walk back inside.

Lucas frowned, calling out to stop me. "Maeve, how long is this cold shoulder routine going to last?" I stopped, but I didn't turn around.

His voice carried that familiar edge of irritation. "Fine, I'm sorry about what happened today. Is that what you want to hear?" "Cassidy is a freshman, and she was overwhelmed.

It's normal for me to help her.

We've known each other for over a decade—do you really have to throw a fit over something so trivial?" I slowly turned to face him. "I'm not mad, Lucas." He froze, clearly not expecting that. "Then what is this attitude?" "Since we were kids, when have you ever said 'thanks' to me like a stranger?" "Are you treating me like an outsider now?" I looked at him, and for the first time, a small, genuine smile touched my lips. "Lucas, we "are" outsiders." With that, I walked back into the lobby.

Lucas stood under the light, motionless.

After a long moment, I heard him let out a soft, mocking scoff. "There she goes again." The next day was the official campus tour for the incoming freshmen.

As the vice president of the Student Union, Lucas was leading the main group. I wasn't supposed to be there, but Abby was volunteering and practically dragged me along for company.

I lingered at the very back of the crowd.

Lucas walked at the front, with Cassidy glued to his side. "Lucas, what time does the library close?" "Are there any tricks to getting into the highdemand seminars?" "Is the club fair really as crazy as they say?" Her questions were endless and trivial.

Yet Lucas answered every single one. As we walked up the stone steps of the quad, Cassidy took a misstep and slipped.

Lucas instantly reached out, catching her by the waist. "Careful," he murmured. "These steps are uneven." I stared at his hand.

A memory from our freshman year flashed through my mind. It was the same campus tour. Lucas was leading the group then, too.

I had followed closely behind him, whispering, "Lucas, which club should I sign up for?" He hadn't even looked back. "Look at the board yourself, Maeve.

This is college, not high school.

Stop asking me everything." I had pressed on. "What about course registration?" He let out a sharp, impatient sigh. "Do you have any independent judgment at all, Maeve?" The questions Cassidy was asking now were far more trivial than mine had ever been.

Yet Lucas hadn't frowned once.

When the tour wrapped up, Cassidy walked over to me, a sweet smile plastered on her face. "Maeve, Lucas is honestly so sweet." She tilted her head, her voice pitched just loud enough for the surrounding freshmen to hear. "Do you think I asked him too many questions?

I hope I didn't steal all his time away from you." A few freshmen nearby glanced over, whispering among themselves. "Gosh, is she always this sensitive?" one whispered.

I looked at the bright, flawless smile on Cassidy's face. Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion crashed over me. "No," I said quietly.

I turned and walked away from the crowd. The afternoon sun felt blindingly bright. Not because of the heat, but because the sting in my eyes was becoming too much to bear.

I hurried into the nearest academic hall and splashed cold water on my face in the restroom. The girl in the mirror looked calm, almost hollow.

But I knew that inside, some fragile, beautiful thing had shattered so completely that no amount of glue could ever put it back together.

Leaving the restroom, I walked straight to the department chair's office. She reviewed my file, letting out a soft sigh. "Maeve, if you want to reapply now, I will sign off on it.

But you'll have to explain this to Professor Kingsley yourself." She paused, looking at me over her glasses. "He fought the committee tooth and nail to secure that funding for you last year.

When you walked away from it, he was deeply disappointed." I lowered my head, the guilt heavy in my chest. "I know.

I'm so sorry to have let him down." By the time I secured the first signature, a torrential downpour had started.

I didn't have an umbrella, so I stood in the lobby of the academic building, waiting for the storm to blow over. In the distance, I saw Lucas running toward the entrance.

In that split second, my body reacted before my brain did. My heart leaped, foolishly thinking he had come for me. For twelve years, whenever it rained, he was always there.

Through elementary school, middle school, high school.

Even when his mouth was full of complaints—"Maeve, can't you check the weather forecast for once?"—his umbrella would always tilt drastically to my side.

His right shoulder was always soaked by the time we got home. Lucas ran up the steps, stopping just a few feet away from me. Then, his phone buzzed.

Cassidy's tearful voice echoed through the receiver. "Lucas, I'm stuck outside the Humanities building.

My shoes are completely soaked..." Lucas glanced at me, a brief flash of hesitation crossing his face. "Wait here," he said. "I'll go bring her an umbrella first.

She doesn't have anyone else here." Without waiting for my reply, he turned and sprinted back into the sheets of gray rain.

I stood in the doorway, watching the downpour for fifteen minutes, completely numb.

Eventually, Abby arrived with a spare umbrella to rescue me. "Why didn't you call me?" she asked, her voice tight with worry.

I wiped a stray drop of rain from my cheek. "I forgot." But I hadn't forgotten. I just realized, in that quiet fifteen minutes, that I no longer knew who I was supposed to call.

At ten that night, I was sitting at my desk, filling out the online exchange application. A shout from below the window broke the silence of the courtyard. "Maeve!" It was Lucas.

He was standing beneath the ginkgo tree, holding a thermal cup of warm lemonginger tea. "Wyatt told me you got caught in the rain." I walked down, took the cup, and gave him a polite nod. "Thank you." Lucas stood there, looking uncharacteristically awkward. "About this afternoon... it wasn't that I didn't care about you." "Cassidy is new here.

She doesn't know her way around.

I couldn't just leave her stranded." I nodded calmly. "I know." Lucas's brow furrowed. "Can you stop saying 'I know' like that?" "You're not acting like yourself." I looked at him, my voice barely a whisper. "Then how should I act, Lucas?" The question seemed to catch him off guard.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Frustrated, he ran a hand through his damp hair. "Maeve, can you just stop this?" "We've known each other for so long.

We've been through everything together." His voice softened, dropping an octave. "Besides... didn't we have a deal?" "We agreed we'd finally make it official sophomore year." My fingers tightened around the warm thermal cup.

Those words. I had waited years to hear them. Through the longing of seventeen, through the stress of college admissions, through my freshman year.

I had survived on the hope of them. But hearing them now, they felt entirely hollow. "Let's talk about that later," I said softly.

Lucas's face darkened instantly. "Later?" "Maeve, you chased me for over a decade.

Now that I'm finally saying yes, you want to wait?" "Are you messing with me?" I didn't try to explain. "If there's nothing else, I'm going back up." As I walked up the stairs, the warmth of the tea seeped into my palms.

If he had brought this to me this afternoon, I probably would have been overjoyed, just like I used to be. But it was six hours too late. Just like all of Lucas's gestures of care.

They were always late. And they were never meant for me first. The next day was the annual student club recruitment fair.

It was also the day Lucas had promised to help me promote the Photography Club. Our booth was tucked away at the very end of the treelined path.

I had founded this club during my freshman year.

We had started with just three members, and by the end of the year, we had been named one of the top ten student organizations on campus. I had poured my soul into it.

Lucas had once told me: "Next fall, I'll stand at your booth.

The Vice President of the Student Union has to have some pulling power, right?" I had stopped expecting him to keep his word, but I had still set up an empty chair behind our table.

The entire morning passed. The chair remained empty. At noon, I went to grab a bottle of water, passing by the Debate Club's booth on my way.

Lucas was standing in front of Cassidy's table, lifting a heavy crate of promotional flyers for her. Cassidy was beaming up at him. "Lucas, you're the absolute best!

Our club is definitely going to win Best Organization this year." Lucas set the box down, a casual shrug of his shoulders. "Just helping out." I stood across the pathway, watching them for a few silent seconds.

Then, I walked back to the Photography Club's booth and quietly folded up the empty chair.

Abby glanced at me, her voice soft. "Wasn't that seat for Lucas?" I cut her off gently. "No.

It was just an extra." As my fingers brushed the cold plastic of the chair, a memory from freshman year bubbled up. Our very first recruitment drive.

We had only managed to sign up two people the entire afternoon.

Lucas had sat beside me playing games on his phone, muttering his usual cynical remarks: "This little club of yours is going nowhere." But when it was time to pack up, he had silently carried the heavy folding tables back to the storage room for me.

That evening, he had looked at me and said, "Next year, I'll help you draw a crowd." I had been so happy I couldn't sleep that night.

It turned out that some promises are entirely sincere when they are spoken. And just as sincere when they are forgotten.

That afternoon, I went to get Professor Kingsley's signature.

He stared at my application, a long, heavy silence stretching between us. "Maeve, do you have any idea how many arguments I had with the board to secure this spot for you?" His voice dropped, laced with a quiet disappointment. "The day you got accepted, I was more thrilled than you were." "And then you walked in here and told me you couldn't go." My knuckles turned white against my notebook.

Professor Kingsley looked at me. "You told me back then that there was someone very important who needed you here." "What about now?

Does he not need you anymore?" The question felt like a dull blade, slicing open the humiliation I had kept buried deep inside. I whispered, "Professor, I just...

I finally figured things out for myself." He let out a long sigh, unscrewing his pen, and signed his name at the bottom of the page. "If you back out this time, Maeve, I won't help you again." I took the paper with both hands and bowed slightly. "I won't.

I promise." As I left his office, a cool autumn breeze swept through the hallway. I carefully folded the application and slipped it into my bag. My eyes stung.

I had let down so many people for Lucas. Not just myself. But those who had truly believed in me. At ninethirty that night, my phone rang. It was Lucas. I picked up.

His voice sounded utterly exhausted. "Come downstairs." When I walked out, golden ginkgo leaves littered the pavement. Lucas was standing beneath the branches.

Seeing how thinly dressed I was, he frowned. Instinctively, he began to slide his jacket off his shoulders to drape it over me. But halfway through the motion, he froze.

Slowly, he pulled the jacket back on. We stood in silence for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, Lucas broke the quiet. "Maeve, how long do you want to keep punishing me?" "My patience has its limits." "If you really don't want to be with me anymore, just say it.

Stop torturing us like this." I looked up into his eyes, feeling a strange, hollow clarity. "Okay." "I'll say it." "Lucas, I don't want to be with you anymore."