Hannah. (Van Den Bosch #7)

Chapter 25

25

Hannah

Monday morning, I wake up pleasantly sore and with butterflies still in my belly from the weekend away with Johan. My happiness tinges on the way I view the world, painting it all in softer, more vibrant colors. I stretch in bed, letting my muscles wake up, reminded of how much of a workout they had gotten over the last few days.

I feel beautiful, content, and blissful.

But when I turn my iPhone on, still in bed, bad news hit my email box—the archaeology department announces that Johan’s class has been canceled, leaving me disappointed and then worried. I’d been looking forward to his class, even if we couldn't have any real interaction during it. I love watching Johan teaching in his element, working on something that he’s so passionate about, and sharing his knowledge brings me almost as much joy as when he focuses that intensity directly on me. The negativity lifts for a second when I think that maybe he’s exhausted from the weekend and needs some extra rest, but that isn't like Johan at all. He’d never skip out on his duties. That revelation sends me plunging right back into my worries. Before I can spiral, a new text pops up on my iPhone’s screen.

Johan: Good morning, beautiful! I hope you slept well. Unfortunately,I can’t meet you before class as I’ve got to go and meet my dad. Something’s up. X

Oh crap. Now I get why the class got canceled; I hope his dad is doing okay. I quickly answer back, get up, shower, and head to one of the many libraries on campus to study.

The library is quiet, the only sounds being the soft rustle of pages and the occasional cough or whisper. I try to focus on my textbooks, but my mind keeps wandering back to Johan and his dad. I glance at my phone every few minutes, hoping for an update, but there’s nothing.

Time passes slowly until it’s time for my next class. I gather my things and head to the lecture hall. The professor’s voice drones on, but I can’t concentrate. I take notes mechanically, my thoughts elsewhere. The class seems to drag on forever, and I’m relieved when it finally ends.

At lunch, I sit in the bustling dining hall, barely touching my food as I scroll through my messages again. No new texts. I send him a quick message: Is everything okay with your dad? Please keep me updated .

The afternoon lectures pass in much the same way. I jot down notes, half-listening to the professors, but my thoughts are elsewhere. Between classes, I keep glancing at my phone, but still, nothing from Johan.

By the time evening rolls around, the sky outside my window fades into a deep twilight. The courtyard below is quiet, students either studying in their rooms or out for the evening. A knot of worry tightens in my chest. I pick up my phone and dial Johan’s number, pressing the phone to my ear. The call goes straight to voicemail.

His phone is off. He’s probably just out of battery, I tell myself, trying to stay calm. But doubt starts to creep in. What if something is wrong? What if the talk with Astrid went so badly that he doesn’t want to speak to me?

I pace my room, the old floorboards creaking under my feet. My mind races with possibilities, each one more troubling than the last. I send another text, trying to keep my tone light: Hey, just checking in. Is everything alright? Call me when you can.

Minutes feel like hours as I wait for a response that doesn’t come. I sit on my bed, the soft light of my desk lamp casting a warm glow in the room, but it does little to ease my anxiety. The evening stretches on, and still, there’s no word from Johan. I can’t shake the feeling that something is off, that maybe things with Astrid didn’t go as planned. The silence is heavy, each tick of the clock amplifying my unease.

I have to trust him. I’d want Johan to have faith in me if something threw a wrench into our plans, so I need to do the same for him.

It’s easier said than done, though.

On Tuesday morning, the butterflies from Monday are conspicuously silent. In fact, my stomach is twisted up into a tight ball, and I don’t feel hungry at all. The only things I want to do is roll back over and try to find the oblivion of sleep once more or simply stare at the ceiling if slumber never arrives. But I have class—not Johan’s, but still...my course load is heavy, and I can’t afford to miss a lecture if I can help it. I have to stay on top of things, even if I am full of anxiety due to Johan’s radio silence.

Getting dressed is an effort, and I opt for baggy pants, a long tee shirt, and a sweater paired with a knitted beanie over a simple braid because I don’t feel like dealing with my hair. I don’t bother with makeup, and the only food I manage to eat is a piece of toast on the way out the door, shoving the dry crumbs into my mouth as I walk and washing it down with a gulp from a water bottle.

I might be overreacting, but I’ve learned over the years to trust my gut. Before I leave, I text Johan and Astrid, but neither of them responds. No matter how much I try to convince myself that it's all in my head, I can’t. Everything is wrong. Johan wouldn’t ignore me like this.

Class is a blur, and when my brain finally starts focusing, all I can think about are the missed messages from Johan and Astrid. And every time I check the screen, the notifications are blank.

It’s when I am walking back to my dorm after classes are finished for the day that I run into Astrid. Literally.

I turn a corner, and we collide, both of us jumping back as the force of the impact spins us around.

“Whoa,” she says, righting herself and reaching out to grab my shoulder. “Where’s the fire?”

“Hey.” I look around her, checking the corridor briefly. “Sorry, I’m distracted.”

“Clearly.” She squeezes my shoulder, but from the way she jerks her hand back, I get the feeling it's more out of habit than any genuine worry for me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I, ah—just woke up with a headache, is all.” Then, unable to control my anxious tongue, I blurt out, “Are you on your way to meet anyone? Maybe Conrad or…Johan?”

“No, why?” she responds, crossing her arms. Her outfit catches my eye—she’s wearing a beautiful, fitted mustard floral dress with a wide belt that accentuates her small waist. Her hair cascades down, brushing her shoulders, perfectly styled. Her makeup is flawless, featuring bold red lips that match her necklace and earrings. The look is completed with a pair of heeled ankle boots and a matching clutch.

“He canceled his Monday morning class….” The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize how personal and strange the question is. Who asks someone why their hookup wasn’t in class? I want to grab the words from the air and shove them back into my mouth, but it’s too late.

She lifts her chin, and a cold expression slides onto her face. “Yes. We had something important to do. What’s it to you?”

Johan canceled his class to be with Astrid? I can’t believe he lied! I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. It’s the way she's looking at me that makes me speechless. I’ve seen Astrid mad, upset, frustrated, and even irritated. But right now, she looks at me with a flat, chilly gaze, and I realize I’ve never seen her like this.

“I just?—”

“You what?” she snaps, stepping closer. “Is there something you want to say to me, Hannah?”

“No.” I shake my head, pressing my back against the wall. “I’m sorry.”

“I'll bet you are.” She sneers and then takes a step back, smoothing her hand down her dress. “I have somewhere to be.”

Then she brushes past me, her body barely touching mine as she walks by, the clicking sound of her heels loud in the empty hallway.

I slump against the wall, oblivious to the other students around me, and put my head in my hands. My heart is racing, but it feels like my stomach is an open pit. Astrid...my friend. The first friend I made here on campus…hell, if I’m not counting Conrad and his obvious romantic interest in me, Astrid is my only friend here, and it's all too clear that I’ve lost her. The worst part is that I don't even know why.

Well, I do know why. It’s one of two things—the stolen artifacts or her stolen lover. Ugh. Even thinking about Johan as Astrid's lover makes me feel sick. He's mine, dammit. I shouldn't have to keep proving it to myself of all people, but Astrid’s coldness and her perky little outfit have me worrying even more than before.

I’m devastated to lose her. But to lose Johan...that would be utter destruction.

When I get back to my dorm, I spend a few minutes deep breathing into my pillow, letting out all of the pent-up emotions and stress. It’s only late afternoon, but I find myself drifting off to sleep, mired in misery and exhaustion from my mind, constantly running, running, running.

I sleep for two hours, waking up in the evening long enough to order some Chinese takeout. With the takeout containers still on my bedside table, I check if Johan answered my text message, but there’s nothing. I fall back into a heavy slumber, my bed illuminated by the cool blue light of the screen.

Wednesday I’m up at 6:20 a.m., hours before my first class starts. The enormous amount of sleep has helped, and my mind is clearer now, although my stomach is still upset with nerves and worry. I’ve also come to a decision—I need answers, and I need them today .

First, I'll track down Johan and get things sorted out with him. Then, if everything is fine, I will seek Astrid out and talk to her. If she isn’t willing to forgive me, well, at least I'll have Johan and know that I tried.

But first, I need to clean up. Myself and my dorm.

The room is a mess, the trash bin overflowing with empty cartons and chopsticks, and the curtains are drawn closed, leaving the room dark and dingy. I throw things away, open the windows, and air the place out. Oh, I wish that were the biggest of my problems. I take a shower, standing under the spray as the hot water pounds on my shoulders and neck, working at the knots and tension there. Then, I wash and condition my hair. When I’m finished, I step out of the shower feeling refreshed and renewed.

Despite it being early, I put on makeup—not a lot—just a bit of mascara, some concealer, blush, and lip gloss. My hair is still wet, and after a quick brush, I braid it, winding the wet strands into a French braid. I slip into a pair of black leggings and a crop top, then, after a split second, put on a pair of black boots.

Now it's time for class and the forced reunion with Johan I’ve been both looking forward to and dreading. But the sweet relief of finally knowing what the hell is going on is enough to tip me fully into anticipation. There is a spring in my step as I walk to the lecture hall where Johan teaches. When I get there, though, disappointment hits me like a punch in the stomach. The lights are off, the podium is empty, and a message on the board reads, “ Class canceled. See you next Monday, ” written in large letters.

“Can I help you?” someone asks from the doorway. It’s a guy, probably either faculty or a student. He’s carrying a stack of papers, his eyes glued to the pages, and he doesn’t even look up to see me.

“Professor Bentinck… where is he?” I ask, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.

The guy looks up, finally acknowledging my presence. “Class is canceled,” he says simply. “Professor Bentinck will be back Monday. I think he’s taking the day off.”

“Thank you,” I manage to say, turning away quickly before he can see the panic in my eyes. I scowl at the back of his head anyway before exiting the classroom.

Once the annoyance fades, though, I feel empty. The chill is now turning into the shakes, a trembling that runs from the inside of me outward, making it hard to walk. I’m scared. Terrified. Johan is missing, and Astrid is giving me the cold shoulder, which can only mean that she knows about us. I need to hunt down Conrad and see if he can shed any light on things. Having a plan helps me steady myself. Okay...I can do this. A quick glance at my phone tells me I still have around an hour before my next class, and I decide that the only thing that might help the yawning space inside of me is a hot caramel latte. With extra whipped cream. Large.

So that's exactly what I do. I take the long route to one of the campus cafés, walking briskly and savoring the rare November sun and the crisp, cool air. I breathe in the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the subtle fragrance of a few hardy flowers still lingering in the courtyard. If this is my last bit of freedom before my whole world caves in on itself, I’m going to enjoy it.

When I arrive at the café, the line is mercifully short. After a brief wait, I pick up my drink, the comforting warmth seeping through the cup into my hands. I head to a table by the window, the sun casting a gentle glow through the glass. Settling into the chair, I take a deep breath, savoring the rich aroma of the caramel latte before pulling out my phone. Sure enough, there is an email from the department about Johan’s class being rescheduled, but nothing about why or what’s going on. Below is the email I saw Monday morning. It was the first sign that something was wrong, the reason why there are now alarm bells sounding in my head. He canceled his class, and now, a few days later, he is still out. It’s so unlike him.

I sip my drink and let the steam rise into my face, inhaling the aroma and trying to calm myself down.

“Hannah!”

The coffee nearly slips from my grip, but a few drops hit my neck, making me hiss. I double up, holding the precious latte with both hands and glaring at whoever just tried to sabotage the one moment of peace I’ve managed to carve out for myself.

“Shit—oh, Hannah, are you okay?” Conrad is next to me, reaching out, but then stops himself. “Here, let me get you some napkins.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” I say, licking my lips. The coffee was hot but not boiling. Conrad returns a second later and presses a handful of paper napkins into my free hand.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay.” I dab at my neck and the back of my hand. “I’m a little jumpy.”

“Clearly,” he says and gives me a smile. “You sure you need that big of a coffee if that’s the case?”

I chuckle and set the cup down. “I’m not normally this nervous.”

“Well, it’s good to see you,” he replies. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you today.”

“Yeah, well, it’s always a surprise to run into a friend,” I say, watching his face for a reaction.

“Are we friends?” His eyes light up.

“I hope so. We've had fun, haven’t we? I’m gonna go out on a limb and say yes, we’re definitely friends.”

Conrad smiles. “Okay. Good.”

“Did you, by any chance, have heard of Johan? He has canceled both Monday and Wednesday classes.”

Conrad seems uneasy, as if apprehensive to tell me the truth. “I think he’s taking the day off. Not sure why, but that’s all I know.”

“That’s all?” I ask him, my gaze focused on him. “Is this because of his dad or something?”

Conrad shrugs, looking nonchalant. “I don’t know.”

On a whim, I reach out to grab his wrist, turning it so I can see the time on his watch. Dropping his hand, I tell him, “Oh shoot. I need to get to class.”

I think I’ve made a mistake by touching him when I look up and see that he’s smiling, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. “I’ll walk you!”

I almost tell him no, but decide against it. With the distinct possibility of losing Astrid as a friend, I need to keep whatever allies I can. And Conrad admitted we’re friends. He’s a nice enough guy; he just needs to understand where we stand.

We walk side-by-side, him asking me how classes are going and me answering. Then, when we arrive at the door, I stop and smile. “Thanks for walking me to class.”

“I’m glad I did. Maybe I'll see you later?”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

He sighs and says, “Hannah, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I reply, but I think I already know what’s coming.

His expression is somber, and he takes his time examining my face with his eyes, the frown at the corner of his mouth growing. “Are you...involved with someone else?”

I hesitate. Do I lie? Should I lie? He’s obviously disappointed and maybe even hurt, but he’s not acting like the kind of guy who would make trouble for me. If I’m honest, which I want to be, will he start asking questions?

“I am,” I answer. It’s true, after all. Johan is the only one for me, even if I don't know where he is.

“Oh. Okay. It’s just…never mind.” He swallows and then looks away. Other students are pouring into the lecture all around me, and I’m anxious to find my seat. Then Conrad adds, “Have you heard the news?”

I frown at his question. “What news?”

Conrad smiles now, but there’s a deep sadness in it. “It’s not my place to say. But if you need me later, call me, Hannah. Or text me. Any time of the day or night.”

“Um, thank you,” I say, puzzled by his odd behavior. “I have to go in now. Class is starting.”

“See you later,” he says and touches my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Then he turns and walks away, leaving me confused and a little worried.

The lecture is a blur, and as much as I try to pay attention, the only thing on my mind is Johan and the lack of information about him. I do take notes, scribbling furiously, but at the same time, wondering how the hell I’m going to find him. I’m trying to force my attention back on the lecture when my phone goes off on the table beside me. It’s on silent, so the text just vibrates, but I see the screen light up and can’t contain my curiosity.

Astrid: Hey . I’m sorry about yesterday. I’ve had a lot going on. Can we get lunch today, please? I have big news to share!

My heart soars. Maybe I haven’t lost Astrid’s friendship after all. Her normal warm, friendly tone shines even through the text.

Me: Of course. Where and when?

Astrid: 13:30 @ the Kendrew Café. See you there.

I can’t stop smiling after that. I’m going to get my answers, and Astrid and I can patch up our friendship. As soon as the professor calls for the end of the class, I pack up my things and hurry out of the room and back to my dorm, depositing my things and touching up my appearance.

Then, after checking the time on my phone and hurrying, I manage to beat Astrid to the cafe and grab us a table. I’m nervous, ridiculously so, but also looking forward to seeing Astrid. She shows up only moments later, her phone in her hand and a grin on her face.

“Hey,” she greets, dropping her handbag onto the chair next to her and sliding into the seat across from me. She folds her hands in her lap and smiles brightly. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Of course. I’m so happy you texted,” I reply, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. “I felt terrible about what happened yesterday.”

“Why would you feel terrible?” She cocks her head to the side, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder like sunshine. “It was me that was acting foolish. I’m sorry, Hannah. About everything.”

“It’s okay,” I assure her. “So what's this big news you have?”

“Oh!” She laughs, a tinkling sound, and lifts one of her hands from her lap. She spreads her fingers wide on the table, then holds her hand up.

A giant, sparkly diamond winks at me. At first, the huge significance of what she’s showing me doesn’t compute.

“What—”

“I’m engaged,” she announces, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re getting married?!” My own voice is louder than I intended, and a few of the people at the tables around us turn to stare. I don’t care. Astrid is engaged. She has a ring, a gorgeous one, and unless her parents have arranged something in the last three days, there’s only one person it could be from.

My heart drops to the floor, as heavy as a lead balloon. The ground falls out from under me, and my world is spiraling. It’s all I can do to clench my hands on the edge of the table and hold on.

“Yes,” she says, her eyes sparkling. “Isn't it exciting?”

I’m having trouble catching my breath. “Who…?” The word comes out raspy.

“Don’t be silly.” She leans forward, bringing the glittering, sparkling rock that has shattered everything inside of me closer still. “To Johan, of course.”

There are a million thoughts running through my mind, and yet none of them are clear. One is louder than the others, and that is a single word: no.

No. No. No.

This is not happening. This can’t happen.

But as Astrid keeps talking, going on and on about how Johan proposed and about their future and what they are going to do, I realize that it already has.

He’s gone.

And he’s left me behind.

“He proposed yesterday evening!” she gushes while I’m nearly catatonic. “He planned a dinner with both our families at his home estate, and when dinner was over, the staff brought out champagne instead of dessert. And this—” she wiggles her ring finger, the diamond catching the light, “was in the bottom of my glass!”

“Oh.”

“Yes, it was so romantic, Hannah. He finally dropped all this casual fling nonsense and came to his senses.”

“Right,” I mutter, my tongue feeling numb and too big for my mouth.

Astrid is oblivious to how I’m feeling and the horrible struggle I’m experiencing, caught up in her own happy, bubbly world. She reaches down into her handbag and pulls out a stack of parchment papers in all different colors, most of them trending towards yellows and neutrals. “Here, you have such a good eye for beautiful things. I thought you could help me pick out the color for the invitations.”

I frown. “The invitations?”

“For the engagement party, of course.”

I nod, forcing a smile. “Of course.”

She shoves them into my hands, and I shuffle through them, pretending to compare one to the other while Astrid drones on and on. All I can think is that he’s left me, that Johan and Astrid are getting engaged, and that everything has changed.

Even as I help her select a pretty cream-colored paper, my heart breaks, and there is nothing I can do about it.

“Obviously, you’re invited,” Astrid continues. “We’d both love to have you there.”

My jaw works, but no sound comes out. How in the hell am I hearing these words coming from her mouth right now? It’s Wednesday, and just a few days ago, Johan took my virginity with such careful tenderness that I was positive there was something more to it. Hell, he told me how strong his feelings were! How he saw me as part of his future! Now I’m helping his fiancée pick out envelope colors?

A horrible thought starts taking shape in the back of my mind. Could he have just screwed me out of curiosity before settling down with Astrid? Was I just something he needed to get out of his system before following his parents’ expectations and marrying his perfect match?

“Hannah?” Astrid asks, and I shake myself out of the dark place my mind has wandered to.

“Sorry,” I say, my voice shaky. “You know, I forgot about an assignment that’s due, and I really need to go work on it.”

“Oh, okay,” she answers, her smile faltering.

“Congratulations,” I manage to choke out.

Then, grabbing my things and abandoning my half-eaten meal, I rush out of the café and as far away from Astrid and Johan’s engagement party invitations as possible.

This must be some sort of mistake. I refuse to believe that he’s abandoned me like this. All of the sweet things he told me, all the promises he made… surely Johan wouldn’t be that cruel?

Would he? I hurry back to my dorm and lock the door behind me. Once inside, I pull out my phone and check my text messages and emails, hoping that maybe there’s a note there. Some sign that Johan is still thinking of me. There’s nothing, though. I call him several times, but unsurprisingly, no one picks up.

I pull up Astrid’s contact, my pulse pounding in my ears. I’m going to tell her about Portmeirion. They’re not going to do this to me! Johan is not going to use me like some sex doll and then turn around and propose to Astrid as if he wasn’t whispering the most emotional things into my ear as he thrusted inside of me. I’m going to tell her, and he’s going to have to deal with the fallout!

But, with my fingers hovering over the digital keyboard, I just…can't.

Because what would Johan say when confronted? Would he deny sleeping with me? Or would he admit it and then twist the story somehow? Maybe claim that he had been drunk or that I was the aggressor, pushing him into bed.

What if, by telling Astrid, I destroy my own reputation and friendship with her anyway?

I put the phone aside. Johan is gone, and it’s because he wants to be.

All at once, my anger turns to overwhelming grief, and my eyes fill with tears. My shoulders shake as I sob, covering my mouth and curling into a ball on my bed.

I’ve never felt so used, so stupid, and so…betrayed.

I can’t believe he would do this to me, but even as the thoughts are spinning around in my head, Johan is making arrangements for his engagement party and buying Astrid a fucking ring.

This has all been nothing but a lie.

And I’m the idiot.

I’m the one who’s been played for a fool.

I’m alone here at Cambridge. Surrounded by people my age, all my peers, and utterly alone. All because I managed to insert myself into the middle of a small group of postgraduate students who just didn’t have room for me after all. I had wanted Johan badly enough to give myself over to him, but now that he’s gone, I have nothing.

So I do what any girl does when she’s heartbroken and has been spurned by a man. I call Mom.

She answers on the third ring. “Hey, baby.” I sigh; her voice is like a balm to my wounded soul. “It’s so nice to hear from you.”

“Hi, Mom,” I reply, sniffling.

“Is something wrong, angel?” she asks, concern lacing her words.

I close my eyes, willing the pain in my chest to dissipate. It doesn't go anywhere, and when I try to speak again, my voice breaks. “Everything.”

“Oh, honey,” she says softly, the tenderness in her voice almost breaking me. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, okay?”

I take a shaky breath, dashing away tears with the back of my hand. “I... I feel like such a horrible friend. I made a true friend, someone I had so much in common with. But she just happened to be with the only man in the world I’ve ever wanted.”

“I had no idea you were in love,” Mom says, clearly in shock. “Who, honey? Who is he?”

I hesitate, his name catching in my throat. I can almost predict my mom’s disapproval.

“It’s Johan, Mom.”

There is a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, followed by a stunned silence. When she speaks again, her voice is tinged with shock. “Johan? The one Elise introduced us to?”

I nod, even though she can’t see me. The words spill out in a torrent. “He was using me, Mom. I thought he cared about me, but now he’s proposed to her. And Astrid… she’s showing me engagement party invitation ideas, being fake just to torture me, and I don't know what to do.” My voice breaks, and I start to cry harder, holding the phone tightly to my ear. Her voice, though still shocked, is filled with empathy and understanding.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry you’re going through this. That’s a lot, indeed. Oh, Hannah…”

I sniffle, trying to hold back more tears. “Mom, I…” The words are like glue in my mouth, but now that I’ve started talking, I can't stop. “I slept with him behind Astrid’s back. We spent the weekend together in one of his family’s vacation homes, and now here he is only a few days later, engaged.”

She is silent for what feels like an eternity. “Hannah,” she says after a while, and I can hear the disapproval in her tone. It’s worse than a slap in the face. “It doesn't sound like you have any place in his future. This isn’t like high school, my love. You can’t steal your friend’s boyfriends without consequences. Especially someone who has treated you as kindly as you say Astrid has. You know it’s wrong.”

“But Mom—” I start, my voice pleading.

“What’s done is done,” she cuts in, her voice firm but gentle. “You can't change what happened. I…I just need to clarify. We're talking about Johan Bentinck, Elise’s Johan?”

A bolt of angry annoyance shoots through my grief. “Mom! Don’t say that! You make it sound like I’m stealing from Astrid and my sister—who we both know is happily in a relationship.”

“Sorry,” Mom sighs, the sound heavy with exhaustion. “It’s just hard for me to reconcile what you’re telling me with the kind, respectful young man we’ve had over so many times.”

“I know,” I grumble, frustration bubbling up. “I thought he was a good guy. But clearly, I was wrong.”

“Maybe his family pressured him to get serious with her,” she suggests softly. “But whatever the reason behind it, it seems like it’s over now. You’re so young, dear; you’ll be fine.”

She isn't wrong, of course, but I still can’t force myself to be alright with it. “Mom...what do I do now? Do I confront him?”

“That's up to you, my dear,” she says, her voice full of understanding. “No one can make that call but you. Just whatever you do, don’t let Astrid know. It sounds like she’s the only innocent one in all of this, and it isn't your place to break her heart. It’s his.”

“But he won’t,” I whisper, feeling defeated.

She tries to insert some humor. Pointlessly, of course. “We could always tell Elise what he’s done. Let her handle it.”

“MOM,” I snap in return. The idea would be funny if this thing with Johan wasn’t tied up in such a complicated knot. “Don’t tell anyone, please. Including Elise. Not even Dad. Okay?”

“Alright, honey. You know I’m here for you, always,” she reassures me.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Mom,” I say, sounding a bit steadier now.

“Take care of yourself, okay? If you want to come home for a visit, just say the word. Daddy and I would love to see you.”

“Thank you,” I manage, feeling a bit lighter. “Bye, Mom.”

“Love you, sweetheart.” Her voice is full of warmth, and despite the tears, a small smile tugs at my lips.

“Love you, too.”

We hang up, and I’m left feeling worse than ever. I think I’ve known this entire time that what I’ve been doing is so, so wrong. But I’ve let myself fall for Johan despite his relationship status, and now, it's all collapsing around me.

The only consolation is that Johan has gotten what’s coming to him. He's going to have to spend the rest of his life married to the wrong woman, and knowing that brings the faintest bit of happiness to my lonely situation.

Because it’s over now. Johan is Astrid's fiancé and soon-to-be husband. I have no right to him, no claim on him. He doesn’t even belong in my head anymore. Too bad it seems like he’s stuck there. No one can make that call but you , Mom said. So I guess I have to make the decision.

My phone feels like it weighs a million pounds in my hands as I pull up recent calls and tap Johan’s number. Even seeing his name written out sends a spike of fondness, followed by suffocating sadness, through me. If just five letters can make me feel this way, how in the hell am I going to survive?

Against my ear, the phone rings and rings. He doesn't answer. I try again and get the same result. Frustrated, I throw the phone down beside me, but not before it makes a small chime to let me know I have class in fifteen minutes. Because, of course, I do. My heart is breaking, but the world is still turning. So it goes, I guess.

I drag myself off of the bed and wash my face in the sink, not wanting to have to explain to anyone why I’m crying. Then I grab my bag, check my face once more in the mirror, and head out the door.

Cambridge University is huge. I’m barely an ant compared to the sprawling campus and endless grounds. The buildings, too, are gigantic, and even though I’ve not looked at the map on my phone since my second week, I’m still occasionally lost. Today is one of those days. By the time I figure out where I am and get to class, I’m five minutes late.

My professor—Professor Watson, an older gentleman who is already balding despite only being in his forties—looks at me as I scurry into the lecture hall and sit down.

“Late night, Ms. Van den Bosch?” he asks with a trace of humor in his tone. “Trying to be a good example to the rest of the class?”

A nervous titter runs through the room. I take my seat, open my laptop, and try my damndest to hide behind the screen. Class is only an hour long. All I can possibly do is endure.

Since it's just an introductory lecture on Western Art, I let my mind wander a little bit. Everyone's attention span is short, and the embarrassment of being late quickly fades as the lesson gets into full swing. After this, I have a study group for European Art History, and then my last class of the day, Renaissance Art. The professors at Cambridge have a tendency not to give much homework, but I still have tons of reading and research work from other classes.

Maybe that's a good thing. It'll keep me occupied and out of Johan’s way.

Even as I try to comfort myself with these thoughts, the weight of him, his betrayal, is on me like a black cloud. Professor Watson finishes his lecture, and everyone starts packing up their stuff. A few students are lingering behind, though, and I find myself amongst them.

“Do any of you know what’s up with Prof Bentinck? He canceled the two classes I had with him,” one of them asks the group loud enough for me to hear.

My ears perk up when one of his friends answers. “My older brother lives in an apartment building across from his and saw him leaving this morning, so at least he’s not dead.”

The first guy snorts. “I don’t mind, to be honest. When I saw he was a replacement for Foster, I thought we might have it easy, but no, his class is just as demanding.”

“I wonder what's up with him,” another girl muses. “He's a substitute professor; he shouldn’t be canceling classes like that.”

Their words cut through me, and even though I know that Johan probably isn’t lounging around but instead planning his and Astrid’s future. The thought makes my stomach roll.

The conversation pivots, and I peel myself away as subtly as I can, an idea taking shape. If Johan is at his place, then there’s a decent chance I could catch him alone and confront him without Astrid there. If he’s going to duck all my calls, I have to find some way to talk to him. Even if I’m forced to accept his engagement, there is no way I can let it go without at least having a single conversation with him first.

Okay...just a few more hours of school, and then I can go and attempt to speak to him. Seeing Johan will be difficult, especially with it having been just days since we spent those blissful moments together, but I have to be strong. I can crumble later when I’m alone. Right now, I have to hold myself together. I walk out of the lecture hall with my chin held high, ready to face anything, and determined to get closure.

I’m going to Johan Bentinck’s flat.

And there is nothing he can do about it.

The rest of the day passes in a blur, my mind swirling with unanswered questions and heartache. Before I know it, I’m standing on the street in front of his apartment building, my breath catching in my throat. My heart pounds furiously in my chest, and my palms are slick with sweat. I wipe them on my pants, trying to calm my racing thoughts. With a deep breath, I square my shoulders and force myself to take a step forward. I’m still a block away when his building’s front door swings open. My heart skips a beat as Astrid steps out, looking just as radiant as she did at lunch today. Her smile is bright, her hair is perfectly styled, and she exudes a happiness that feels like a punch to my gut.

Then I see him.

Johan follows her out, holding the door for her, and my world seems to tilt. Then, as they walk together, Astrid reaches out and takes Johan’s hand in hers. Their fingers intertwine almost instinctively, and the sight of it sends a bolt of jealousy through me. His car is parked on the curb, and they walk towards it, Johan only letting go of her long enough to open the car door for her. They look perfect together—like a couple from a magazine.

I think back on what my mother said—that this isn’t high school, and it’s not right for me to steal my friends' boyfriends. Astrid deserves better than that from me. She’s been so nice and kind. And Johan is the one who initiated things between us. He can’t put this all on me.

Still...even knowing this, watching Astrid and Johan laugh together before Johan closes the car door and walks around the driver’s side, tears prick at my eyes. I’m not going to cry. I’ve done enough of that today.

But I can’t avoid the truth. I had sex with him; I gave him everything that he could possibly want from me, both my body and my heart, and now that he’s satisfied his curiosity, he will be able to marry his perfect match.

The misery is so heavy that it steals my breath. Before they can see me, I turn, head down, I’ve seen enough. I have to get the hell out of here.

The urge to run is strong, but I keep my cool. My pulse is thundering, thinking that at any second, they’re going to pass me in the car, but they must have gone the other direction. The sun is setting, and it’s a long walk back to my dorm, but I don’t think I can be cooped up in the backseat of an Uber right now. The fresh air in my lungs and the wide open spaces around me are the only things keeping me sane.

I walk back to my dorm alone, tears silently falling. Eventually, the tears stop, and the cool breeze dries them on my face. The sun fully sets, and I want more than anything not to be alone right now.

But I am alone. Astrid isn’t. Johan isn't. But I am. And maybe that’s how it will always be.

It’s dark enough that the gas streetlamps are on once I finally make it back, and despite the nervous energy coursing through me, I’m relieved. There’s life in the common area, people talking and laughing together in couples and small groups as if there was a party or something. It’s too much for me right now, but thankfully, there’s a back stairwell, and it’s empty.

I head for the stairs, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, but I almost trip over someone coming down from one of the upper levels. They laugh and step back to give me space—it's one of the other students with whom I share a few classes, Ginger.

“Hey, easy there.” Then, after looking closer at my expression, she frowns. “You okay? You look pretty down. I just brought this down to share.” Ginger holds up a bottle of deep red liquid and gives it a small shake. “Come have a drink with us by the fire.”

Us. She’s talking about her friends. Normally, I’d decline, but right now, I’m desperate for company. “Alright, thanks.”

Ginger grins, and we head back down to the ground level.

She leads me over to the fireplace, where several of her friends are sitting in big leather chairs. Others are dotted around, sitting on the floor or on the antique, high-back couches. I find a seat on one alone, and Ginger brings me a glass of brandy before settling down next to me.

The fire is huge and roaring, and it’s warm on my face. My skin is stiff where the tears have dried, and I’m glad no one can see them. Everyone here is happy and laughing, and it’s nice not to feel so alone.

“So,” Ginger comes over, sitting beside me, a curious expression on her face. “What’s up?”

I smile, aware it must look fake, and give a vague answer. “Nothing much. You know, the usual.”

“Ah,” she nods, figuring I’m not ready to open yet. “Gotcha. Well, if you ever need to talk, I’m just down the hall from you. You’re probably the only neighbor I haven’t spoken to.”

“Yeah,” I mumble, glancing down at my glass. “Thank you.”

Conversation picks up, and it’s a lot lighter than what I’ve been dealing with the past few days. I swirl the brandy in the snifter and then, in one motion, drink the entire pour down. My throat burns, but I like the pain. It matches the one in my chest. One of the boys on the floor across from us laughs and waves for the brandy bottle to be passed back to us.

“Looks like you need a refill,” he says, giving the bottle back to Ginger.

I accept and hold the glass out for Ginger to pour. She obliges and then fills her own.

We chat a little while longer, and then the group breaks up. Ginger, along with most of her friends, decides that they want to go to a pub and invite me along. Part of me wants to go, to keep not being alone, but I’ve got three glasses of brandy in me now, and my vision is starting to spin.

I decline but agree to join them another time and head to the stairs. Once I’m back in my room, I strip out of my clothes, pull on a tank top and underwear, and crawl into bed.

I don’t manage to sleep, though.

Full of liquid courage, I decide to throw caution to the wind and send Johan a text. The first one since Astrid told me about their engagement. It takes me a few tries to get it typed out, the brandy making it difficult for me to type, but finally, I have what I want in the text box.

Before I can chicken out, I hit send, then curl up and hug the spare pillow to my chest.

Hannah: Congrats on the engagement. I wish you both so much happiness.

It’s a damn lie, but who cares.

Eventually, the alcohol put me under. I wake up a few times during the night, the spins and queasiness dragging me out of slumber completely at 1 am. My phone screen is on, and when I reach to turn it off, I see that it's because I have a notification. A text. From Johan.

Acid crawls up my throat as I open it.

Johan: I’m so sorry. One day, you’ll understand why I did what I did.

I should leave it alone. I really should. But I can't.

Hannah: I won’t ever understand. But it doesn't matter. Goodbye, Johan.

The little bubble indicating that he’s replying pops up, and for some reason, after dying to hear from him for days, it sends me into a panic. Sucking in air, trying not to get sick, I tap the icon for his contact at the top of the screen and, after only a second of hesitation, hit the block button before his response can come through.

The message thread disappears, and all is silent.

Blocked and deleted, like his actions towards me. If only I could block him like this in my heart, too.

Fighting off the urge to stagger to the bathroom and get sick, I lay on my mattress, cover off, and wait for the nausea to subside. Finally, I sleep once more, and while I don't wake up again, my dreams make me wish I had never closed my eyes in the first place.

Over and over again, in all sorts of situations, I watch Johan and Astrid get married, and all I can do is watch. I can’t scream, I can’t move, I can’t run. I can only stand there. In some, Johan is holding her hand. In others, he’s kissing her while the crowd cheers. In others, I am a bridesmaid, hands clutching a rotting bouquet, watching as Johan slips a ring onto her finger.

No matter what dream I’m having, each and every one ends with Johan turning to me, the picture of joy, and saying, “I’m sorry, Hannah.”

Finally, light peeks through the curtains. My eyes are swollen, and my head is pounding. For a brief second, as I sit up and the bedsheets pool around my waist, Johan's text from last night comes back to me.

One day, you’ll understand why I did what I did.

Huh. Fat chance of that ever happening.

It doesn’t matter. Last night I blocked his number, and if Johan Bentinck thinks that I am ever unblocking him so he can explain his shitty behavior, he’s got another thing coming.

With a groan, I stumble out of bed and head for the shower. I have to fight off the urge to unblock him a dozen or so times, but I stay strong. It’s not going to hurt any less, and he’s made his choice, and that choice was Astrid.

After scrubbing every inch of me with body wash and washing my hair twice, I feel a little more human—not better, just more alive and present. It’s not a great feeling, but it will have to do. I take my phone with me, realizing I have a message from Conrad: Hey! Are you still up for lunch on Saturday?

Gosh, I had completely forgotten Conrad’s invitation. Well, it’s only lunch, after all. I ponder for a moment, before texting Conrad back with a positive answer but letting him know all I can do is a quick, casual lunch.

Then, I head downstairs to the common room, intent on getting some coffee and food in me. Maybe I'll go for a run later. Or a long walk. Anything to get my mind off things.

My mother's words echo through me. Maybe this is part of growing up. Learning to let go.

So why does it feel like Johan, and my...my love for him, feel stuck inside of me like a thorn I can never remove?