If I Were Her

Chapter 17

Ava’s alarm had already been silenced twice by the time it rang again, and this time she didn’t even bother reaching for it. One of her roommates did instead, followed by a loud groan and the rustling of sheets as the room slowly dragged itself into the morning. Voices followed after that, low and unfiltered, someone laughing too loudly at a video without headphones, drawers opening and closing like no one could decide where anything belonged.

Ava stayed still for a moment before sitting up. She had showered earlier, quickly, before the noise fully took over the room, so her hair was still slightly damp at the ends when she reached for her clothes.

The sunlight coming through the window was already half gone, blocked by a towel someone had hung across it. She looked at it for a second, then muttered under her breath before standing up and pulling it slightly aside. One of her roommates reacted immediately, saying she was using it, but Ava didn’t turn back or respond. She simply left it where she moved it.

Her side of the room was the only part that felt somewhat ordered, even if it wasn’t exactly clean. Her bag was already packed on the chair, her clothes for her 10am lecture laid out, and she moved through her routine without thinking too much about it because mornings like this didn’t leave room for delay. She got dressed quickly, checked herself once in the mirror like she always did, then reached for her lip gloss, applying it slowly out of habit more than need.

Behind her, the room kept going on its own rhythm — someone complaining about the snoring, another arguing about eyeliner, and the same snoring cutting through everything again like it wasn’t part of the same space. Ava exhaled lightly at that, but didn’t comment, simply picked up her bag and adjusted the strap over her shoulder.

“I’m not going home,” she said under her breath, not like a statement meant for anyone else, just something she repeated to herself while stepping around scattered slippers and a half-open suitcase near the door. The thought stayed with her as she moved out of the room, past the noise, past the mess, past everything she didn’t bother attaching herself to.

Her father’s face still came anyway, uninvited, the last time she had gone home replaying briefly — her standing in the living room with her bag still on her shoulder, him looking at her for a moment before giving that small, tight smile and saying,

“You’re back again?”

like it was a pattern he had already decided she couldn’t maintain. She hadn’t answered then. She had just stayed for lunch she barely touched and left not long after.

She shut the door behind her, leaving the sound of the room exactly as it was, and kept walking.

By 10am, Ava was already seated in the lecture hall, somewhere around the middle where she usually ended up without thinking too much about it. Her sketchbook was open in front of her, pencil resting between her fingers as she waited for class to begin.

Jade sat down beside her like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Ava glanced at her briefly.

“You’re early.”

Jade dropped her bag at her feet. “You’re always here before everyone.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

Ava didn’t argue further, just adjusted her sketchbook slightly on the desk.

Jade opened hers but didn’t start drawing immediately. She had brown hair, but it had been bleached into a soft blonde that wasn’t perfectly maintained anymore, dark roots starting to show in a way she didn’t seem to care about. Her brown eyes that darkened or brightened with her mood, and her small nose piercing that caught faint light whenever she turned her face. She had that kind of presence that didn’t ask for attention but didn’t miss it either.

She was Evelyn’s daughter.

And she and Ava had grown up like a loop that never really broke — mothers close enough to make childhood unavoidable, early years of pushing and arguing that somehow softened into something that stayed. Not delicate. Just familiar in a way neither of them bothered to define.

Jade tilted her head slightly. “Sooooo..”

Ava didn’t look up. “So what?”

“You’re meeting Ethan today?”

That made Ava pause.

Just a small one.

Then her pencil moved again, slightly faster this time.

“Maybe,” she said, too casually.

Jade hummed like she didn’t believe the word.

“He said he’d be around after lectures,” she added after a second, like it wasn’t important enough to hold.

Jade glanced at her. “That sounds like you’ve already decided.”

Ava gave a small shrug. “I haven’t.”

But her tone didn’t match it.

Her hand slowed on the paper, then resumed again like she was trying to correct herself.

Jade didn’t smile, but there was something knowing in her expression.

“You’re doing that thing,” she said lightly.

“What thing.”

“The pretending-you’re-not-looking-forward-to-it thing.”

Ava finally looked at her.

“I’m not.”

Jade nodded once. “Okay.”

A short silence followed, comfortable in the way it always was between them. Jade flipped a page in her sketchbook without really starting anything new.

Then, like it was just another passing thought, she said, “When am I finally meeting your twin?”

Ava glanced at her again.

That question always came in casually, like Iris was just another name in conversation, not someone tied to the same face.

“She’s not here,” Ava said.

“I know, duhhh, she’s the smart science one”

Ava adjusted her pencil grip. “She’s busy.”

Jade leaned back slightly. “Everyone’s busy.”

Ava didn’t respond immediately.

Then, “Girl drop it.”

Jade accepted that without pushing.

“Still,” she said, “I want to meet her properly one day. You talk like she’s two different people depending on the day.”

Ava didn’t answer that either.

Her pencil moved again, steady, controlled.

A moment passed before Jade added, softer but still casual, “Tell her I said hi anyway.”

Ava nodded once.

“Okay.”

The lecturer walked in then, and the room shifted forward into focus — conversations fading, pages opening, attention settling.

Jade stopped talking.

Ava didn’t stop thinking.

Her pencil kept moving across the page, but her attention had already drifted slightly ahead of the room.

___________________

Ava saw him and didn’t stop

She just walked over.

Ethan was already watching her approach, his hand in his pocket, the bandage on his right temple still neat, still too noticeable for how casually he was standing there.

Ava stopped in front of him.

“You look fine,” she said, eyes on the bandage.

Ethan let out a small breath. “And here I thought you were worried about me.”

“The last time I acted worried, we broke up .”

“Whose fault was that?”

A faint smile pulled at his mouth, but it didn’t fully stay.

Ava shifted closer slightly, her gaze still on him.

“You really didn’t think to call me?”

“I did,” he said. “Just not when you were calling.”

“That’s worse.”

“I know.”

That was all he said.

Ava looked up at him properly now.

“You said your dad hit you.”

Ethan didn’t move away from that.

“Yeah.”

She studied him for a second, like she was trying to match the words to what she was seeing.

“You always say things like it’s small,” she said.

“It feels small when I’m saying it.”

Ava exhaled lightly through her nose.

“That doesn’t make it small.”

Ethan didn’t argue.

He rarely did when it came to that part.

Ava adjusted her bag strap, then looked at him again.

“You went quiet for days,” she said, not accusing, just stating it.

“I didn’t know how to come back into it.”

“You could’ve just said that.”

“I know.”

That finally softened something in her expression, though she didn’t say it.

Instead, she stepped closer and pulled him into a hug without warning.

Ethan held her immediately, like he had been waiting for the moment to be simple again.

Ava stayed there a second longer than she meant to.

Then she spoke quietly against him.

“Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t,” he said.

She pulled back slightly, just enough to see his face again.

Her hand stayed on his sleeve for a second before dropping.

“Next time, just pick up, even if you don’t want to” she said.

Ethan nodded once. “Okay.”

Ava looked at him a moment longer, then turned away and left without looking back.