A heavy night nketed the world.


    On the empty stretch of highway, a lone service station glowed-its lights a bright oasis in the darkness. Clusters of cars were already parked outside, and people moved in and out, lending the ce a surprising liveliness for such ate hour.


    Soon, a ck SUV pulled up.


    Archie hopped out, hustled inside, and returned minutester with a thermos full of hot water and a bag of takeout.


    "Dinner and medicine, M."


    "...Thanks."


    M didn''t bother correcting him about calling her "M" anymore. She''d realized by now that Archie was the type to do as he pleased-he might promise to change, but would always slip back into old habits the next minute. Honestly, she was too tired to care. Let him call her whatever he wanted; it wasn''t worth the trouble.


    An uneasy silence settled inside the car.


    Midway through eating, M noticed Archie kept ncing at her out of the corner of his eye. After the third or fourth time, she couldn''t hold it in any longer.


    "What''s up?" she asked. "Do I have something on my face?"


    Archie scratched his nose, hesitant, but finally blurted out, "M, when we were driving earlier... did you have a nightmare?"


    The look on her face when she woke up-so shaken, so upset-had really startled him.


    Remembering the fragments of her dream, M lowered her gaze, not wanting to get into it. She brushed him off. "Yeah. Bad dream. Ghosts and all that. Gave me the creeps."


    "Huh?"


    Archie blinked, surprised, then gave his chest a hearty thump. "Don''t worry, M. I''m tough. No ghost would dare mess with us while I''m here. Get some sleep!"


    M couldn''t help but smile at him—so earnest, so young, still clinging to that teenage bravado.


    That night, they parked at the service station, wrapped up in thick nkets they''d bought from a vige shop, and tried to get some rest in the car.


    Archie reclined his seat, stretching out as best he could. M curled up on the backseat, but no matter how she adjusted, she couldn''t find peace. Her sleep was restless, her dreams even more so.


    ...


    When M was neen, her hope-filled vision of love was shattered-torn apart by Lysander''s cold, clear hands.


    He''d taught her a brutal lesson: the gulf between their worlds, their backgrounds, their social sses, was one she could never cross.


    For days afterwards, she barely slept. She spent night after night reying Lysander''s words in her mind, letting them gnaw at her until her grades slipped, dropping her several ces in the ss rankings. Suddenly, her schrship was at risk—and with it, everything she''d fought so hard for.


    How could she forget why she''d escaped her old life? Why she''d worked so hard to get into Northpoint University?


    She wasn''t like Lysander. She wasn''t like most people. She didn''t have the luxury of failure.


    There was no family to catch her if she fell. She''d fled a suffocating home, wed her way into Northpoint, scraped by on part-time jobs-each step carved out by grit and desperation.


    Her only shot at changing her life was through the knowledge and opportunities Northpoint could give her.


    She was aputer science major, with a knack for it. She''d wonpetitions, earned awards. If she could just keep up her grades,nd a good mentor-there would be plenty of chances to make money after graduation.


    Only when she was financially secure could she even think about wanting more.


    Her goals weren''t grand: she just wanted a normal life. One she could earn with hard work.


    But heartbreak had almost made her forget all that. The sting of rejection had left her listless, spiraling. She''d chased after a fleeting crush, and now-after falling t-she was losing sight of everything that mattered.


    Losing love hurt, of course.


    But losing her grades, her schrship? That would mean disaster.


    Without that schrship, the next semester would be even harder. She''d have to work more hours, leaving even less time for studying. It would be a vicious cycle-one she couldn''t afford to fall into.


    This had to stop.


    That night, still a teenager, M sat on her dorm bed, wiping away tears she hadn''t even realized were falling. She pressed a hand to her heart and forced herself to repeat it, over and over:


    "It''s okay. You just have to survive. Survive, and live well."


    "You tried. It didn''t work. Time to let go."


    "He was never really part of your world. There''s no future there. You''ll meet new people, better people, people who fit your life..."


    In the darkness, she whispered it again and again, each repetition slicing away at


    the fragile, budding hope she''d dared to feel. She didn''t care how much it hurt- she steeled herself and kept going, determined to erase every trace of that impossible love from her heart.