Chapter 4
Walking along the street, the night wind was bitter, blowing away the last trace of warmth.
My phone buzzed with a message from my advisor: [Emily, how did the discussion with your boyfriend go about the scholarship exchange program? I understand you young people h
strong feelings and don’t want to be apart. But I have to say this–you’re very
Italented, don’t let temporary romance derail your future. Academics should come first.]
I pressed send without hesitation: [Professor, you’re absolutely right. I accept this opportunity. Thank you.]
My advisor replied: [Excellent! The other spot goes to Adrian Hayes, so you’ll have someone to look out for each other.]
Just as I stepped through the campus gates, my phone buzzed again.
A message from Adrian Hayes: [Advisor notification received. Attached are the core exchange program forms. Please fill out promptly and send to me for compilation.]
Two PDF files, neatly organized.
I replied: [Received, thank you.]
Immediately, an Excel spreadsheet appeared: [Exchange Student Pre–Departure Preparation Reference List V1.2]
Opening it revealed incredibly detailed content–visa checklists, housing recommendations, phone plan guides, medication lists, power adapters, even nearby supermarket prices. Every detail perfectly organized.
[This is compiled from previous students‘ experiences, for reference only.] he added.
I texted: [Thank you.]
He replied instantly: [You’re welcome. Emily, you seem to have said thank you to me many times.]
I could imagine his expression saying this through the screen.
Adrian was known in our group as an academic machine, focused on research, occasionally helping me perfect key derivations in lab reports when I was swamped with other things.
Last time when I had a fever during group work, he quietly completed all my data without a word.
Thinking about it now, “thank you” was indeed what I said most to this aloof academic genius.
I messaged: [Then let me buy you dinner tomorrow.]
A few minutes later, his reply appeared: [Alright. Good night.]
His reply was clean and efficient, ending our conversation.
Putting down my phone, I habitually opened Instagram.
Madison had posted a new update: [Family, who understands?!! Met a crazy person, got forced into being a homewrecker, seriously WTF!! Acting like every woman in the world is after her precious boyfriend! Delusional girls are so cringe!!]
In the comments, band members lined up to comfort her:
[Hugs Madison, don’t be upset.]
[Clear conscience, Madison. Don’t stoop to a psycho’s level.]
(Madison don’t be mad, hug me next time! I don’t have a girlfriend, hug away [dog face]]
[Me too!]
(+1)
I smiled silently, blocked her, and turned off my phone.
