Favourite Mistake

Liora Standing beneath the warm morning sun, I squinted as I stared at the building towering before me. Blackthorn University. The sight alone made my stomach tighten. Two years. It had been two whole years since I had last stepped foot here, yet the place looked exactly the same. The towering buildings, the carefully maintained lawns, the students hurrying from one lecture hall to another—it was as though time had paused and waited for my return. Unfortunately, some memories never stayed buried. I adjusted the strap of my handbag and released a slow breath. You can do this, Liora. That was what I had been telling myself ever since I accepted the internship offer. It was only temporary. Just a few months. Then I could move on with my life. At least, that was the plan. A few moments later, I met with the Dean, Mrs. Britney, a graceful woman whose warm smile instantly put people at ease. "It's good to have you here, Liora," she said as we walked through the administrative building. "Thank you, ma'am." She led me toward the Event Planning and Design Department, the same department I had belonged to during my years as a student at Blackthorn. The irony wasn't lost on me. Of all the places in the world, I had somehow found myself right back where everything had begun. As we walked through the familiar hallways, memories came rushing back without warning. The walls seemed unchanged. The scent of old books and polished floors lingered in the air. Students laughed as they hurried past. Someone argued loudly about an assignment deadline. Another group sat on the corridor floor, discussing a project. It all felt painfully familiar. For a moment, I wasn't an intern returning to work. I was nineteen again. Young. Hopeful. Certain that the world was filled with endless possibilities. Back then, Blackthorn had felt magical. It had been the place where dreams were born. The place where friendships had blossomed. The place where my heart had learned how to love. And eventually, how to break. I forced the memories away before they could settle. Some chapters were better left unread. Mrs. Britney introduced me to the department head, Mr. Andrew. He welcomed me along with the other interns assigned to the department. The introductions were brief and professional, but they were enough to make me uncomfortable. Several faces seemed familiar. People I had once crossed paths with. People who might remember me. Or worse. People who remembered what happened. I kept my smile polite and distant. Pretending not to recognize anyone felt easier than risking awkward conversations. The past was dangerous territory. I had no intention of revisiting it. Once orientation ended, I was shown my workspace and introduced to my responsibilities. The department handled countless student projects, university events, exhibitions, and presentations. There was always something happening. Within an hour, I was already sorting files, responding to emails, and organizing project schedules. The workload was manageable. In fact, it felt comforting. Work kept my mind occupied. Work didn't ask questions. Work didn't remind me of old mistakes. As the morning passed, I gradually relaxed. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe I had worried for nothing. Nothing could possibly go wrong. The thought settled in my mind with surprising confidence. Then lunchtime arrived. The moment I stepped into the cafeteria, every bit of that confidence vanished. The large space buzzed with energy. Students occupied nearly every table. Laughter echoed across the room. Groups gathered around trays of food, discussing lectures, assignments, relationships, and weekend plans. The atmosphere was vibrant. Alive. Yet I felt strangely disconnected from it all. Like an outsider looking through a window. I stood there for a few seconds longer than necessary. Watching. Listening. Remembering. I had once sat at those tables too. I had once laughed without worrying about consequences. Once believed some people would stay forever. The memory hurt more than I expected. Quickly collecting my order, I left the cafeteria and returned to the office. The silence there felt safer. Who would have thought that memories could hurt long after the people responsible for them were gone? The rest of the day passed surprisingly quickly. Between handling paperwork and assisting students, I barely noticed the hours slipping away. Before I knew it, the workday had ended. I shut down my computer and gathered my things. Day one. Completed. A small smile found its way onto my face. Perhaps this internship wasn't going to destroy me after all. On my way home, I stopped at a grocery store to pick up a few necessities. The familiar routine felt comforting. Normal. Exactly what I needed. By the time I reached the apartment, evening had settled across the city. "I'm home!" I called from the corridor. Almost immediately, Louis answered. "Welcome back, babe." The sound of his voice made me smile. Walking into the apartment, I found him in the kitchen preparing dinner. The aroma of food filled the air. It felt warm. Safe. Everything Blackthorn wasn't. "Your mom called," he said while stirring a pot. "She couldn't get through to you." "Oh." "She said you should call when you're free." "I will." Louis smiled before returning his attention to dinner. I headed to my room to freshen up. As I washed away the stress of the day, I couldn't help thinking about how lucky I was. Louis wasn't perfect. Neither was I. But he gave me peace. And after everything that had happened in my life, peace felt priceless. Dinner was simple but enjoyable. We talked about our day, shared a few jokes, and laughed together. For a little while, Blackthorn disappeared from my thoughts. Later that night, I retreated to my room and called my mother. "Hey, Mom. How are you doing?" "I'm fine, sweetheart," she replied immediately. "How was work?" It was mid-afternoon in New York while evening had already arrived in London. For the next hour, I told her everything. The internship. The department. The workload. The students. Even the cafeteria. By the time our conversation ended, I felt lighter. "Take care of yourself," she reminded me. "I will." "Love you." "Love you too, Mom." After hanging up, I climbed into bed and quickly drifted to sleep. The next morning, I woke feeling refreshed. For the first time in a long while, I felt optimistic. Maybe this fresh start could actually work. Maybe I could survive Blackthorn after all. After applying minimal makeup, I slipped into a beige blouse and a black leather skirt. The outfit was professional yet comfortable. Exactly what I needed. Before leaving, I kissed Louis goodbye. "Have a good day," he said. "You too." The journey to Blackthorn took roughly thirty minutes. Traffic was manageable, but I still found myself checking the time repeatedly. Being late on my second day wasn't an option. By the time I arrived, the office was already buzzing with activity. Students moved in and out constantly. Papers changed hands. Printers hummed. Phones rang. Everyone seemed to be rushing somewhere. Semester project season was clearly in full swing. Part of my responsibilities involved assisting with project coordination, meaning students approached my desk regularly. Most interactions were brief. Questions. Requests. Instructions. Nothing complicated. Around midday, a girl with bright pink hair approached my desk. "Excuse me," she said politely. "I'd like to get a printout for Class 02." I looked up and smiled. "Of course." After reviewing her documents, I handed over the necessary paperwork. "Here you go." "Thank you." She smiled brightly before hurrying away. For a moment, I watched her disappear into the crowd. Then I found myself smiling. I had once been exactly like her. A sophomore. Innocent. Naive. Certain that life would unfold exactly as planned. Back then, I had no idea how quickly everything could change. No idea how deeply one person could affect your life. No idea that some mistakes stayed with you forever. Slowly, I shook my head and returned my attention to the documents on my desk. Because if there was one thing life had taught me, it was this: Some people leave scars you can't see.