I Broke Up with My Dream Boy

Victor and I had been together for four years, spanning from high school to college. Then, I broke up with him. "Victor, I'm done with you." Victor was the ultimate campus heartthrob—handsome, smart, and with a great personality. Everyone said I hit the jackpot, landing such a perfect boyfriend. I just smiled quietly, holding my tongue. I lingered outside his classroom, waiting for him. It was the final class of a long Friday, and there were other couples waiting outside, along with a few girls gathered around, discussing something. "Who's Victor?" I glanced over to see a girl with flowing hair loudly asking the short-haired girl beside her. The short-haired girl pointed him out. "That's Victor. He's so handsome. How come I've never seen him before?" "He likes to hang out in the classroom or library." "Does he have a girlfriend?" "Don't you know? Jasmine, from Economics." With that, the short-haired girl sneaked a glance in my direction. I heard my name and realized she had seen me. I followed her gaze, and our eyes met. Silence followed. The short-haired girl quickly pulled the other girl away. Even as they walked away, I could still hear bits of their conversation. Someone whispered, "She's just average-looking. How did Victor end up with her?" "No idea, but I heard they've been together since high school." I watched them leave, shrugged it off, thinking, I've heard it all before. Victor and I got together in our sophomore year of high school, and now we're sophomores in college. It's been four years. It's no wonder they say those things; Victor is genuinely handsome, with countless admirers since high school. As for me, I wasn't exactly plain either. In high school, I was considered one of the prettier girls in my class. But this is college, where beautiful people are everywhere, and I just blend into the background. I sighed, withdrew my hands from my pockets, and peered into the classroom. Victor was sitting in the middle rows, pen in hand, focused on solving equations. Beside him sat a girl. They were sitting very close, the soft glow of the setting sun casting a romantic light on their faces, like the protagonists of a novel. And I felt like an insignificant third person. Class ended, but they still didn't leave. I walked into the quiet classroom. Victor looked up and saw me, but only for a moment before he returned to his discussion with the girl. Their voices were low, almost like whispers, discussing topics I couldn't understand—physics was beyond me. Standing there felt awkward, so I found a random seat and sat down, watching them. Victor kept his eyes down, leaning over his work, completely unfazed by my presence. The evening glow enveloped the setting sun, with layers of orange clouds piling up in the sky. I watched him with that girl, and in my heart, I had already put a big red X. It was clear to me that she liked Victor too. The number of girls who liked Victor had grown, both in the past and now. After what seemed like forever, the two finally finished their discussion. I stood up and went over, grabbing Victor's hand, staking my claim. The girl looked familiar; after thinking for a moment, I realized I’d seen her before. She was constantly asking Victor questions. And Victor never turned anyone away. In fact, whenever someone asked him a question, he would patiently explain it to them. He asked what I wanted to eat, and I simply replied, "The cafeteria." On the way there, he walked beside me, silent as ever. That was just his way—always a man of few words. I wasn't sure if he truly liked me. Even after four years together, I never felt anything special from Victor. But it was no big deal; after all, I was the one who confessed to him. He had turned down many girls, but back then, I was young and reckless, unwilling to give up on someone so outstanding. I tried every trick to get him to notice me, bringing him breakfast and water until he finally remembered me. My friends egged me on to confess during a PE class. Honestly, I never thought he'd say yes. At first, I thought I’d just gotten lucky, but later, I heard people say Victor had someone he liked—a senior a year above him. He had confessed to her, but she didn’t accept. And just around that time, I confessed to him. I figured maybe he was upset with the senior, or he just decided to go with the flow. Later, the senior went abroad, and I didn’t know if he still liked her. The next day, I saw that girl again. Victor and I were eating in the cafeteria when she suddenly appeared, her sweet voice ringing out, “Vic, there you are.” I didn't care for this girl. I found out her name was Evans, and she was in the same department as Victor, without a boyfriend. This only confirmed my suspicion that she had her eyes on Victor. Sure enough, she pulled out a test paper from her bag, her manicured finger circling a question. “Vic, I’ve asked so many people about this question, but no one knows. Can you help me?” She didn't even glance my way, treating me like I was invisible. Victor hadn’t looked up initially, but when Evans pulled out the test paper, his eyes flickered with interest, and then he looked at me. I wasn't sure what my expression was when I looked at him. I wasn’t worried about Victor being taken away. Despite his many admirers, I was his girlfriend, and I could tell he wasn’t interested in those other girls. Reserved and indifferent, that was Victor’s style. Maybe, in his heart, studying was the most important thing. Oh, and that senior he might still like. I didn’t know where I ranked in his heart. But seeing him sit so close to Evans, not rejecting her, and even his eyes seemed to be seeking my approval, I couldn't tell if I was full or just plain angry. I wiped my mouth and stood up with my tray.Clenching my teeth, I said, "You two go ahead and chat. I'm out of here." Enjoy your little study session with Evans and that paper! Victor didn't bother to follow. All I heard was him calling my name. "Jasmine." I didn't look back at him. By the time I walked out of the cafeteria and glanced back, he and Evans were already deep in discussion. Evans barely glanced at the paper, sneaking looks at him and nodding now and then—clearly just putting on an act. Victor, on the other hand, was completely focused on solving the problem, explaining it to her. It was obvious—studying was all that mattered to him. It was the end of the school day, and I found myself alone on the track field. The sky blazed with fiery orange clouds, the sunset's glow gently washing over the scene. The sound of a basketball swishing through the hoop echoed, people jogged on the track, and couples strolled around, chatting and laughing. I dabbed at my eyes, but a few stubborn tears slipped through. Despite my constant reassurances that Victor wouldn't fall for her, the tears betrayed me. He never seemed to care about my feelings. There were no messages on my phone. I opened Victor's pinned chat and scrolled through our conversation history. Mostly, it was me monologuing—sharing my day, religiously sending good mornings and good nights, asking about his meals and classes. Victor's replies were never instant; an hour was his usual delay. Compared to my long messages, his replies were always short. "Mm." "Got it." "Okay." Sometimes he'd say goodnight, but more often than not, he'd just leave me on read. I knew it, and my friends often reminded me—I was pathetically humble in this relationship. But I had liked him for four long years. No one knew how happy I was when he agreed, how thrilled I was to stand beside him, eat together, and go on the rare dates. Some folks said our names were a perfect match. Jasmine and Victor. But others said it sounded like siblings. Most of the time, I'd just smile, but inside, I'd be secretly delighted for a long time. Yes, our names matched perfectly, and after four years, he must like me, right? Even if not that much, there must be some spark. I couldn't help but wonder if my own shortcomings were why he didn't like me. Maybe if I were like Evans, with questions to ask and formulas to solve, we'd have more to talk about. In senior year, I asked him which university he wanted to attend. Victor said, "United Kingdom." For him, I burned the midnight oil, drained every brain cell, and lost countless strands of hair, just scraping into United Kingdom. I gave everything to be at the same university, to stand by his side. When I sent him my acceptance letter, it took him a while to reply. "Oh, you got in too?" "Congratulations." I was at a loss for how to catch his attention. I sat on a stone bench, burying my head in my arms, reminiscing about every moment with Victor. Suddenly, a basketball came rolling over, bumping into my calf. I looked up and picked up the ball. "Hey, there!" a voice called out. I glanced over. Under the bright lights surrounding the basketball court, a tall, striking figure clad in a vibrant red jersey waved at me. It was Parley, the heartthrob from the philosophy department. I handed the ball back to him, wiping my tears away. He took it with a goofy grin, "Thanks! Did it hit you? Are you alright?" Then he noticed my tear-streaked face and paused, quickly asking, "Why are you crying? Did it hurt? Do you need to go to the infirmary?" Noticing his flustered concern, I realized he had misunderstood. "It's nothing, really. Not your fault." I pulled out a tissue from my bag, sniffling. Parley didn't leave. Despite my reassurances, he still felt guilty and kept apologizing. I waved it off, and after a while, he finally walked away. The sun had dipped below the horizon, the orange twilight melting into night, as stars began to sprinkle the sky. I sat alone on the stone bench for who knows how long. I wasn't sure why I felt compelled to stay. The late autumn breeze was chilly, and as the lights flickered on, the track became a haven for couples. As more couples gathered, watching them in clusters made my heart ache. Victor still hadn't replied to me. He was probably one of those boyfriends everyone called boring, a textbook case of a clueless guy. He didn't care about me, didn't pay attention to me, and we didn't feel like a couple at all. Finally, with the wind chilling me to the bone, I stood up and slowly trudged back to the dorm. I tried not to think about what he was doing, whether he was still with Evans discussing problems, or if he had already gone back. In a daze, I reached the girls' dormitory and was met with a scene that made my heart sink. Victor and Evans were standing not far away, seemingly just arrived. Evans had clearly freshened up her makeup, her lips painted a vivid red. She smiled sweetly, chatting with Victor about something. Victor stood there listening, his high nose and naturally falling bangs partially shadowing his dark, narrow eyes. His lashes weren't particularly long but were thick, with the ends curling upwards, giving his eyes a cold yet passionate look. I didn't know what Evans said, but he nodded and then took out his phone. They were swapping WeChat contacts. Watching them, the sight stung, causing my nose to tingle with emotion.I couldn't fathom what Victor was thinking; he never added girls on WeChat. Once Evans added him, she gave him a sugary smile and chirped, "See you tomorrow, Vic." Victor nodded in acknowledgment. He watched Evans head upstairs, then turned to leave. As he lifted his eyes, he spotted me, a flicker of surprise darting across his face. I stared at him, stepping forward slowly, my voice catching as I called out, "Victor." Victor looked down, silently gazing at me, the streetlight's fractured glow dancing in his eyes. "You added her on WeChat? Why would you do such a thing?" I tried to hold back but couldn't. "Yeah, she said it would be easier to ask questions." His response was nonchalant yet sincere. Oh, what questions indeed? As if her intentions weren't crystal clear. He instinctively took my hand, noticing my eyes were red and slightly swollen. "What's wrong?" His touch was cold, the chill seeping from his fingers. "Her name is Evans," I said, shaking his hand. "She likes you, doesn't she?" Victor looked at me, a slight frown creasing his brow. "Why else would she keep coming around?" "Even if she doesn't like you, she's interested, isn't she?" "Why don't you just turn her down?" You have a girlfriend, standing right here. He looked at me, confusion clouding his expression. "She's just asking questions. You're overthinking this." "Her questions are engaging, you know I love discussing these topics." I knew, of course I did. Because you love those mind-bending physics problems, and she shares your interests, that's why you made an exception. "Are you crying over this?" He looked at me, incredulous. "No, just some sand in my eyes." I pouted, turning away. I knew he'd have that look, thinking I was being dramatic, making a mountain out of a molehill. Victor gently turned my head back, then blew softly into my eyes. "It's long gone," I said stubbornly. Victor stepped back, silent. Looking at his face, I paused for a moment before asking, "Will you leave me?" Clearly, I was grasping at straws. He glanced at me indifferently, as if the question was childish.