my prized possession

CHAPTER 16

3 YEARS LATER

For the past two years, life had been… perfect. Or at least, the closest thing to it.

My relationship with Jackson blossomed into something deeper and more stable. We had our ups and downs, sure, but love found a way to always pull us back to center. And Annabella—my soul sister—remained the rock in my world. Our friendship didn’t just survive the distance; it thrived. No matter what came our way, we bloomed together.

Socially, I’d come a long way from the invisible girl I used to be back in high school. I was no longer the shy outsider in the shadows. Here, in college, I was seen—heard—and even liked. My life had shifted, and for once, I liked the direction it was going.

My roommate, Naomi Vincent, had been a saving grace. She made the transition into college life feel smooth and warm. Her kindness, patience, and humor helped me find my footing when I felt lost in the maze of campus life. She didn’t just share a dorm with me—she shared her world with me. And in turn, I let her into mine.

Through her, I met more amazing people—my course mates, who slowly became my closest friends. There was Linda, who always had notes ready and a quick wit for every situation. Kate, whose laughter was contagious and spirit unwavering. Josh and Amber, the inseparable couple who somehow balanced deep romance with goofball energy. They were the kind of people who made you feel safe to be yourself.

We weren’t a perfect group—but we were perfectly imperfect together. They didn’t look down on me. They didn’t care that I didn’t come from wealth or that I sometimes had to say no to late-night food runs because of my tight budget. They were my people, my support system. With them, college didn’t feel so overwhelming.

Even when things were tough—especially financially—they made the days brighter. They reminded me that I belonged here. That I was enough.

But this year… this year felt different. Everything around me was shifting, and not necessarily in the ways I wanted.

Chris and Christina—the twins—got into the schools of their choice, which was a huge win for them. I was proud, truly. But with their admissions came a heavy financial burden for my mom and stepdad. Unlike me, they didn’t have scholarships covering the bills. Every cent—tuition, accommodation, books—was being handled by our parents. And as much as they tried their best to support me too, I knew things were tight now.

I couldn’t bring myself to complain. I’m an adult now. This is my life, my responsibility. I had to step up.

Balancing work and school was no easy feat. Some days I’d go to bed crying from the sheer exhaustion. But I had support—Annabella, always a call away, anchoring me emotionally when I felt like I was falling apart. And my circle of friends at school—they were my sanity on long days and my laughter on the heavy ones.

But the one person I desperately needed… was slipping away from me.

Jackson.

He hadn’t been himself for months now. I knew he was going through a lot—his parents’ divorce was tearing his world apart. I’d been there for him in every way I could: comforting texts, late-night calls when he actually picked up, long messages just to let him know I was still here, still loving him. But lately, it felt like I was shouting into a void.

He stopped showing up emotionally. Calls were ignored, texts left on read. And when I did hear from him, it was a brief “been busy” or “I’ll call you later” that never came. It wasn’t just the distance—it was the silence. And that silence was breaking me.

I tried to rationalize it. I told myself what Annabella kept saying: maybe the divorce was weighing on him more than he let on. Maybe he just needed time. But as much as I tried to understand, it still hurt. Because whatever he was going through, I was still here—loving him, waiting for him, needing him.

And slowly, that need turned into doubt.

What was happening to us?

I didn’t want to lose him. I wanted this relationship to last. But I couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that we were no longer on the same page… or even in the same story.

I haven’t seen Noah in a while now. In a way, it’s been a relief—but I can’t lie… sometimes, I catch myself wondering what he’s up to. Has he gotten married? Is he still even in the country? The thoughts come uninvited, like little whispers in the back of my mind.

Every time I visit Jackson, I somehow end up asking about him. Just a passing question here and there. But Jackson always brushes it off like Noah doesn’t matter, like he doesn’t want to go there. Are they still fighting? It’s been so long since that incident—too long for the silence to still linger.

I don’t push it. I don’t want to stir anything up or make Jackson suspicious of my curiosity.

In the meantime, life goes on. I work at a diner not too far from school. The job’s demanding, especially when I’ve had back-to-back classes, but the pay is good, and it helps me stay afloat. That alone makes it worth it.

My manager isn’t the kindest person—she can be rude for absolutely no reason. One minute she’s barking orders, the next she’s pretending like nothing happened. But I’ve learned to tolerate her. I need this job. And thankfully, my coworkers are sweet and supportive—they make the place bearable, even on the toughest days.

Christiana and I had grown so much closer over the past few years. Watching her blossom into this intelligent, passionate young woman she was becoming filled me with pride. She chose to study contemporary art—something that always made her eyes light up—and she was thriving in it. Every time she sent me photos of her latest paintings, I could see the soul she poured into them. It wasn’t just paint on a canvas—it was her heart, her voice, her story.

Whenever I was down or overwhelmed, she somehow knew. She’d flood my inbox with images of her latest work, each one brighter than the last, trying to bring color back into my grey days. Sometimes, she even sent me pictures of the Eiffel Tower—her way of reminding me that beauty still existed in the world, even when everything felt heavy. She was studying in France now, and somehow, that made her art even more vivid, more daring.

Chris, on the other hand, had taken a different but equally impressive path. He got into a college in London, pursuing writing—something that surprised and amazed me. I always knew he had depth, but when he shared his short stories with me, I realized just how talented he truly was. His words had a way of finding the quiet parts of your heart and stirring them awake. He checked on me from time to time, asking how I was doing, always with the same big-brother energy, even though we were almost the same age.

The twins had grown, not just in distance, but in purpose—and our bond as siblings had deepened with it. It felt like we were finally seeing each other clearly, beyond the noise of our childhoods. We were building something stronger, something rooted in genuine love and mutual respect. That was the kind of closeness I used to dream of when things felt fractured.

Mom, too, was trying—really trying. She called often now, just to hear my voice, to check in and ask how school was going. Sometimes we talked about simple things—what I ate that day, how the weather was—but even those small conversations meant something. I appreciated every effort she made, because I knew now that love didn’t always come in perfect packages. Sometimes it came in late-night calls, and awkward pauses, and trying again.

And Billy… he was still Billy. Always steady, always kind. He talked about coming home sometimes, said he missed us all. I knew he meant it. But I wasn’t ready to go back yet—not to that house, not to the past. Not until I was sure I could walk through those doors without breaking.

If and when I was ready… I would go home.

But for now, I held on to the little pieces of love my family kept sending me, like scattered stars across a dark sky—enough to light my way through whatever was coming next.