The Woman He Left Behind

Westvale International University had a way of making everyone feel important. Maybe it was the grand stone buildings, the carefully maintained lawns, or the students who arrived every morning dressed as though they were heading into a board meeting instead of a lecture hall. For Amara Vale, it was mostly the people. At Westvale, everyone seemed to know everyone. Or at least, everyone knew of everyone. Amara sat beneath the shade of a jacaranda tree outside the humanities building, a textbook open across her lap. She had been on the same page for several minutes when a first-year student approached her hesitantly. “Excuse me.” Amara looked up. The girl held a notebook against her chest. “Do you know if Professor Hale changed the assignment?” Amara glanced at the notebook. “He didn't change it. The last part is optional.” The girl's face relaxed. “Really?” “He said it during yesterday's lecture. You weren't there?” “I was sick.” “Then you're lucky you asked.” The girl smiled gratefully. “Thank you.” Amara nodded and watched her hurry away. “You know,” a voice said beside her, “you could have just said yes.” Amara turned. Sophie Williams dropped onto the bench beside her. “You've been studying for forty minutes,” Sophie continued. Amara looked at her. “How would you know?” “Because I've been watching you.” “That sounds creepy.” “It would be creepy if I weren't your best friend.” Amara smiled and returned her attention to her book. Sophie leaned over. “You've been staring at the same page.” “I've been thinking.” “You've been staring.” “I can do both.” Sophie laughed and reached for the book. Amara pulled it away. “Don't.” “I only want to see what you've been pretending to read.” Before Amara could answer, a group of students walked across the courtyard, laughing among themselves. Sophie glanced over. Then she lowered her voice. “Speaking of things worth looking at…” Amara followed her gaze. She immediately knew who Sophie meant. Toba Veymont. He stood several metres away with two other male students, listening to something one of them was saying. Amara had seen him countless times around campus. At lectures. At university events. Walking through the courtyard. Sometimes sitting alone with a book. They knew each other's names. That was all. They had never spoken. Toba was difficult to miss, though. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with a quiet confidence that made people move around him without being asked. His dark hair was neatly styled, and even from a distance there was something controlled about his expression. He wasn't loud. He didn't need to be. Everyone at Westvale knew the Veymont name. It carried enough weight that Toba never had to introduce himself. Amara had always thought he looked too comfortable in his own importance. Too proud. “He's looking over here,” Sophie whispered. Amara immediately returned her attention to her book. “Then he can look.” Sophie laughed. “You really don't like him.” “I don't know him.” “Exactly. And yet you already look annoyed.” Amara shrugged. “He has a reputation.” “For what?” “Being proud.” Sophie raised an eyebrow. “You've never spoken to him.” “I don't need to speak to someone to notice how they behave.” Sophie looked back at Toba. “He is handsome, though.” “That doesn't make him less proud.” “Maybe you should talk to him before judging.” “Maybe you should stop trying to make friends with every handsome man you see.” Sophie placed a hand over her chest. “That's hurtful.” Amara laughed. She looked down at her book again. She didn't notice Toba glance in their direction. And she didn't know that he had noticed her long before that afternoon. Not because he was interested in her. Not yet. He knew Amara Vale by reputation. She was the girl who always seemed to have an opinion during lectures. The one who didn't laugh just because everyone else did. The one who had once challenged a professor's argument in front of an entire class and calmly defended herself when several students disagreed with her. She wasn't impressed by money or status. Toba had noticed that. He found it interesting. Still, they had never had a reason to speak. Until that afternoon. --- The women's changing area beside the university sports hall was usually crowded after afternoon activities. Amara had gone there to return a jacket Sophie had accidentally left behind. She was halfway down the corridor when she noticed someone standing near the entrance. A man. Tall. Dark-haired. Familiar. She slowed. Toba Veymont. He was standing beside the slightly open door, looking through the narrow gap. Amara frowned. She stopped a few steps away. For a moment, she wondered if she had misunderstood what she was seeing. Then Toba shifted slightly, and she saw exactly where his attention was directed. Her eyebrows rose. “Toba?” His head snapped around. The change in his expression was immediate. Surprise. Then alarm. Then something dangerously close to guilt. “What are you doing?” “Nothing.” Amara stared at him. “You're standing outside the women's changing area.” “I know.” “And you're looking inside.” “No.” She glanced at the door. Then back at him. “You're not?” “No.” “You were.” “I wasn't.” “You literally were.” Toba looked toward the door again. Then at her. “I was just…” He stopped. “Just what?” Amara asked. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Amara folded her arms. She had always thought Toba Veymont looked like someone who was never caught off guard. Apparently, she had been wrong. “I'm waiting,” she said. Toba looked down the corridor as though someone might suddenly appear and rescue him. No one did. He looked back at Amara. There was clearly no good explanation. And whatever the truth was, he obviously wasn't going to tell her. So, in what was probably the worst decision he had ever made, he said, “I'm gay.” Silence. Amara blinked. Once. Twice. “You're what?” “Gay.” She stared at him. He stared back. Amara slowly glanced at the changing-room door. Then at him. “So that's your explanation?” “Yes.” “For looking into the women's changing area?” Toba hesitated. “Yes.” “That makes absolutely no sense.” “I panicked.” “That part is obvious.” For a brief second, the corner of his mouth twitched. Amara noticed. “You think this is funny?” “No.” “You're smiling.” “I'm not.” “You are.” His expression immediately became serious. Amara shook her head. She had never spoken to Toba Veymont before. Not once. And somehow, within five minutes, she had discovered something nobody had told her about him. He was a terrible liar. She adjusted the jacket in her arms. “Don't worry. I won't tell anyone.” His shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.” “But…” He looked at her. Amara smiled. “I'm definitely calling you Mr. Gay from now on.” His expression fell. “Don't.” “Mr. Gay.” “Amara.” She stopped. Her eyebrows lifted. “So you do know my name.” Toba looked almost irritated with himself. “Everyone knows your name.” Amara smiled. “And I thought you were too proud to notice anyone.” “I never said that.” “You didn't have to.” She turned and started walking away. “Goodbye, Mr. Gay.” “Amara.” She kept walking. “Amara.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “What?” Toba stood there with his hands on his hips, looking more frustrated than she had ever seen him. “Forget what happened.” Amara smiled. “Absolutely not.” Then she walked away. By the time she reached the end of the corridor, she was still smiling. She had no idea that “Mr. Gay” would become the first of many names she would call Toba Veymont.