Jill Andrew had just started school—new, curious, and detached, as people do when life has taught them to be cautious. She said very little over the first week. She would slip into lecture halls without anyone knowing. She always ate lunch alone. Her tray appeared scarcely touched, and she sat too upright, as if bracing for something.
And then came Adex Wilfred.
He'd noticed her before she even realised who he was. He enjoyed how she constantly seemed ready to run but never did. He desired the silences she maintained. And without much strategy, he approached her one day in the library and enquired whether she had read The Bell Jar. She had not. They spoke about Sylvia Plath for an hour. That was how it began.
They became inseparable after that.
Library benches were transformed into shared dinners at the canteen, late-night hikes behind the old staff quarters, and laughs over cheap instant noodles in the hostel kitchen. People started whispering, of course. However, they did not have the expected relationship. No kissing. Hands should not be held for longer than required. Just the kind of closeness that becomes risky when it begins to mean more to one than the other.
Adex had never been shy about his emotions. He put them out there—sometimes awkwardly, sometimes too early. He informed Jill that she made everything in his mind feel calmer. He liked how she perceived things. He believed he could be falling for her.
And Jill never said a word in response to any of that.
She'd go motionless. Look off to the side. Shift the conversation—ask about Adex's background, bring up a movie, or do anything to dodge the weight of what he'd said. It wasn't that she wanted to hurt him. But some things feel too heavy, and Jill wasn't ready to hold someone else's love when she was still trying to make sense of her reflection.
Adex doubted himself often. Was he imagining the connection? Was he fooling himself? His roommate Ben told him he was wasting time—"She ain't into you, bro. She's just scared of being alone, that's all."
But Adex didn't care. He stayed close, even when it hurt.
One warm Thursday afternoon, they wandered off to the school field instead of going to their elective lecture. The sun had that sleepy gold tone it wears when the day's about to wind down. Students played ball across the grass, and the sound of their shoes hitting the dirt was soft and distant.
Adex returned from the nearby kiosk with two plastic cups of half-melted vanilla ice cream. He handed her one.
"You always remember the little things," Jill said, smiling. She took a bite, scrunched her face as the cold hit her teeth. "Too sweet."
He grinned. "That's the point. Life's bitter enough."
They sat on the concrete ledge at the edge of the field, their knees touching. She leaned her shoulder against him, just slightly. Someone behind them offered to take a photo, and they agreed. The picture captured them laughing—Adex's arm draped lazily behind her, Jill's head tilted towards him, the sun setting behind their smiles.
Later, Adex would stare at that picture more times than he'd admit. He wondered if maybe she had felt something too.
But everything changed the next day.
It was a Friday. The sky felt strange, cloudless and pale, as though something was missing. Jill hadn't seen Adex all morning, not in the lecture hall, not at their usual spot by the library window, and not even at the canteen, where he always arrived first to save her a seat.
She looked for him with quiet concern. She passed the language block, then the physics wing. Nothing. Her feet carried her without thinking, and before she knew it, she was walking past the old economics lecture room—the one that always stayed open, even during breaks.
She glanced inside.
And froze.
Adex was inside, standing against the back wall. His lips pressed against someone else's. A girl with short, curly hair, her body half-shadowed. Jill didn't get a good look at her face, but she saw Adex's. She saw the way he leaned into it. Saw how his hand cradled the girl's jaw like it meant something.
She didn't say a word.
She turned slowly and walked away.
Something broke within her. Watching Adex kiss another girl in that empty lecture room seemed like a betrayal.
That evening, Adex saw her at the hostel lawn. He walked towards her, his face lit up as always.
"Jill—hey! I've been looking for you."
She stood up too fast. Her eyes were sharp, complex, unreadable.
"You don't get it, do you?" Jill said, and she frowned.
He blinked. "What?"
"I saw you," she said, voice barely holding still. "In the econ hall."
Adex's face shifted—confused first, then worried. "Wait—Jill, it's not what you think—"
"Don't." Her voice broke, but she resisted crying. "Please don't say anything. "I don't want to see you again."
Adex was shocked and gazed slowly into her eyes.
"Are you serious?"
Jill nodded and turned away before he could see her eyes glitter.
Ben had been nearby, watching. He approached after Jill left and tapped Adex on the shoulder. "I told you, man. You shouldn't have chased a ghost."
Adex stood there for a long time, not saying a word. He kept thinking, Why? Why did it feel like she hated him now? Why did something that had never started feel like it had just ended?
He tried reaching out to her. Days went into weeks. She never responded or looked his way.
Jill never saw the girl's face that day, but it stayed with her. The shape of her, the way she stood, the curl of hair resting on Adex's shoulder—those details burned into her memory, and she knew she'd never forget them.
It would be years later before she realised who it was.
And by then, the truth would be worse than the lie she believed.