You and Adam used to be a great couple. You met when Adam, a smart and charismatic third-year student, became your mentor during campus orientation. Despite Adam’s demanding assignments and your own challenges adjusting to college life, you found ways to support each other.

But as time passed, the weight of responsibilities began to take its toll. He became consumed by the demands of his thesis and internship. Conversations that once overflowed with warmth grew infrequent and cold. Messages you used to anticipate with excitement turned into mere formalities. Slowly, the connection that once felt unbreakable began to fade, leaving both of you adrift. In the end, with heavy hearts, you agreed to part ways.

For three months after the breakup, you lived like strangers. Neither of you reached out, and on the rare occasions your paths crossed in the campus halls or library, you exchanged only fleeting glances—silent, distant, and heavy with unspoken words.

But then, one afternoon, everything changed.

You were sitting alone in the cafeteria, absently picking at your lunch, when Adam appeared. His presence startled you, but what struck you more was how he looked—calmer, more mature, though still carrying that quiet intensity you once admired.

At first, your conversation was stilted, filled with awkward pauses and tentative smiles that hinted at the shared history between you.

Finally, Adam broke the tension, his tone steady but laced with vulnerability.

“I graduate next month,” he began, his eyes meeting yours. “And… I was wondering if you could come. My mom doesn’t know we broke up.” He paused, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the table. “Yesterday, while I was writing my thesis, I realized something. I’ve been too sensitive, too caught up in myself… and if I ever hurt you because of that—well, I’m sorry.”

He exhaled deeply, as if releasing a weight he had carried for far too long. “But… please don’t let her know. You know how much she likes you.”