Chapter 1I had a 103° fever.
But my boyfriend—West Point's hottest hockey captain—was busy princess-carrying his childhood sweetheart to the clinic.
That bitch posted: "Twisted my ankle during training ? My crush dropped EVERYTHING for me~"
The comments exploded.
"Cadet Commander x plebe girl?! I SHIP IT."
"Commander Drake's so devoted!"
"Wait—isn't he dating Elara?? His actual girlfriend is okay with this??"
I stared at the soda I bought for him.
The ice was gone. So was whatever I felt for him.
Everyone expected tears. A meltdown.
Instead, I typed one last comment:
"Okay with it? Nah. I'm dumping his ass."
...
After my reply blew up, Grayson called me TWELVE times.
I didn't pick up once.
The fever made my eyelids heavy.
Cadence calls from the training ground kept drilling into my ears.
On the thirteenth call, I finally answered.
Grayson's voice was low. Tight.
"Elara Bennett, what the hell is wrong with you?"
I looked toward the clinic under the trees.
"I told the truth."
Two seconds of silence.
Then he laughed. Like I'd said something ridiculous.
"Calista twisted her ankle. I'm a Cadet Captain."
"What's wrong with taking her to the clinic?"
"And what about ME running a fever?"
"You're not a kid. Can't you get your own meds?"
I didn't say anything.
My fingers pressed against the bottle.
The ice was long gone, but the bottle was still damp.
Like the twenty minutes I spent in line buying this. All that effort, and there wasn't even a trace of cold left.
"Delete the post," Grayson said again.
"Why?"
"Calista's crying."
That's when his voice finally had some urgency in it.
Not because I was running a 103-degree fever.
Because Calista was crying.
I let out a short laugh.
"She cried, so now you're calling me?"
"Elara, stop being passive-aggressive." His tone turned cold.
"You know she hates being talked about since she was little."
Yeah. Calista's sensitive.
So she gets a free pass for everything.
But what I'm afraid of? He never remembers that.
I set the soda down by my feet and stood up.
Everything went black for a second.
He must've heard me move.
His tone softened slightly. "Where are you?"
"The bleachers."
"Stay there."
The call ended.
Fifteen minutes later, he walked out from the direction of the clinic.
Calista was right beside him.
She'd changed into clean sneakers. Walking just fine.
Only thing different was a white bandage wrapped around her ankle.
The second she saw me, her eyes turned red.
"Elara, I'm so sorry. I didn't know you weren't feeling well."
She was holding the soda I bought. MY soda.
Straw still in it. Half the bottle already gone.
"Grayson said something cold would help with the swelling."
"So I had a few sips. You don't mind, right?"
Grayson frowned.
"She already apologized."
I stared at that bottle.
Grape flavor.
He told me once, that grape soda hit different after a long day of training in the sun.
I remembered that for three years.
Some cadets nearby started whispering.
"Is that the girl from the post?"
"His girlfriend?"
"That 'childhood sweetheart' doesn't look injured at all."
Calista's face went pale. She stepped behind Grayson.
He turned to me immediately.
"Happy now?"
"You really had to embarrass her in front of everyone, huh?"
I suddenly felt so tired.
"Grayson. Let's break up."
He froze.
Then he smiled. Like I'd just told a bad joke.
"Over a bottle of soda?"
Calista tugged lightly on his sleeve.
"Grayson, she's still sick. Don't be mean to her."
He looked at me, and his voice shifted back into that familiar, confident tone.
"Elara, stop being dramatic."
"I'll make it up to you after Beast ends."
I reached into my bag and pulled out the keychain he gave me.
Freshman year. He bought a matching set from some vendor outside campus.
"Might as well—we go to class together, eat together, walk back to the barracks together."
"The keychains can match too."
He probably only said it casually.
But I took it seriously and kept it for three years.
Now the metal edge dug into my palm.
I set the keychain down on the concrete step.
"You don't need to make it up to me."
The wind blew.
The little whistle on the keychain rolled slightly.
Grayson reached for it.
But then Calista suddenly gasped.
"Grayson, my ankle hurts again."
His hand stopped mid-air.
And the next second, he turned to steady her.
I stared at that keychain sitting on the edge of the step.
And realized—some things, even if you leave them behind, nothing really happens.
Chapter 2
Grayson never picked up the keychain.
The next morning during early training, I found it lying outside the equipment room.
There was a new scratch on the metal surface.
Calista had it hanging off her bag.
When she noticed me looking, she gave it a little shake. Casual.
"Elara, this is yours?"
She smiled, almost sheepish.
"Grayson said you didn't want it anymore."
"I thought it was cute, so I clipped it on. Hope that's okay?"
I nodded.
"Suits you."
She blinked.
Then a whistle shrieked behind us.
Grayson stood at the front of the formation.
His eyes skipped right over Calista and landed on me.
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried.
"Yesterday's post on the forum was completely out of line."
"As a member of West Point's Public Affairs Office, you incited gossip, disrupted training order."
"Apologize to Calista. Now."
The entire field went silent.
"Why?"
His expression remained cold.
"Because you made her a target all night."
Calista stood off to the side, eyes red at just the right moment.
"It's okay, Grayson. Elara didn't mean to do it."
The more she said it was fine, the more eyes turned toward me.
Someone muttered, "His actual girlfriend has to apologize?"
Someone else said, "But what she posted was kind of harsh."
Grayson's gaze didn't waver.
"Elara. Don't make this harder than it has to be."
I'd heard that line before.
When Calista wanted to borrow our club space and I said no.
When Calista lost my competition files and I confronted her.
When she wrapped her arm around him for photos at a party and I lost it.
Like as long as I took one step back, everyone else could move forward just fine.
I lowered my voice.
"What if I don't apologize?"
Something darkened in his eyes.
He raised the whistle and blew.
"Charlie Company, ten-minute break. Stay in place."
Then he looked at me.
"Bennett. Three laps around The Plain."
"Think it over and come back when you're ready."
Calista immediately spoke up.
"Grayson, she still has a fever."
He didn't even glance my way.
"If she had the energy to post online, she's got the energy to run."
Something inside me snapped.
Not loudly. Just... cleanly.
Like the last thread connecting us had finally been cut.
I didn't say anything.
I just turned and started running.
The sun was brutal. My throat burned.
First lap, I could still hear whispers from the formation.
Second lap, my legs started to give.
Halfway through the third, Calista stood under a tree, holding his whistle.
She gave it a small, playful blow.
Grayson turned around immediately.
"What's wrong?"
She smiled and shook her head.
"Nothing. I was just trying it out."
He didn't get mad.
I remembered the time I touched his whistle. He grabbed my wrist and told me it wasn't a toy. That it was for training.
Turns out it wasn't about the whistle.
It was about who was holding it.
When I finished the last lap, I stood outside the formation, hands on my knees, stomach twisting.
Grayson walked over and held out a bottle of cold water.
"Drink. Don't say I didn't take care of you."
I stared at the condensation on the plastic.
Didn't take it.
His brow furrowed.
"Still being stubborn?"
Calista drifted over, voice soft as ever.
"Elara, are you still mad at me?"
"Here, I'll give the keychain back."
She reached for her bag zipper.
The keychain snagged. The clip snapped.
And it dropped straight into the drainage ditch beside us.
Grayson glanced down.
Calista's face went pale.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—"
I looked down too.
Rainwater from last night pooled in the ditch.
The keychain was half-buried in mud. Just a sliver of silver peeking through.
Grayson shrugged.
"It's just an old thing. I'll buy you a new one."
I laughed.
He said it so easily.
Like three years of loving were just some old thing too.
Chapter 3
The next day, I went to the Cadet Health Clinic for an IV.
The nurse checked my temperature and frowned.
"103.8 degrees. And you're still doing Beast training?"
I didn't answer.
My phone kept buzzing.
Someone had posted a video.
The caption was perfect clickbait.
"Cadet Captain makes his girlfriend run laps while his childhood sweetheart defends her. Love triangle getting SPICY."
The comments were a mess.
Some people were dragging Grayson.
Others said I was being dramatic.
And someone screenshotted Calista's line—"I'll give the keychain back"—and said she was way more mature than me.
I turned my phone off.
When the needle went into the back of my hand, I flinched.
That's when Grayson walked in.
He was holding a bag of medicine. Calista was right behind him.
When he saw the IV in my arm, his expression shifted.
"Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"
I looked at him.
"I did. Yesterday."
He froze.
Calista's voice dropped, soft and careful.
"Grayson, don't blame yourself."
"Elara's probably just upset you didn't notice."
I smiled a little.
She was good at this—turning my pain into my attitude problem.
Grayson set the bag on the table.
"Don't go back to The Plain this afternoon. I'll get you excused."
"Then why'd you make me run yesterday?"
He was quiet for a second.
Then his tone hardened again.
"That was different."
"You embarrassed Calista in front of everyone. I had to give her something."
"She dropped my keychain. Did you give me anything?!"
Calista's eyes immediately welled up.
"Elara, I really didn't mean to."
"If it matters that much to you, I'll buy you a new one."
I glanced at her bag.
The broken clip was still hanging there. Empty.
Grayson followed my gaze. His voice softened.
"Elara, stop staring at her."
"She didn't sleep at all last night because of the comments."
I looked down at the medicine bag.
Fever reducers. Stomach meds. Throat lozenges.
All the brands I used.
He did remember.
He just only remembered when my pain became impossible to ignore.
The nurse came over to switch the IV bag.
"Who's family?"
"She should have someone with her this afternoon."
"Fevers this high can spike again."
Grayson opened his mouth to respond.
Then Calista's phone rang.
She glanced at the screen. Her face went pale.
"Grayson, it's my mom again. She's going to make me move back home."
He turned to her immediately.
"Don't worry."
Her voice cracked.
"I can't answer it."
Grayson picked up her phone, then looked back at me.
"You finish your IV first. I'll walk her back to the barracks and help her deal with this."
I nodded.
"Okay."
He seemed surprised I wasn't fighting him on it. Hesitated.
"Elara."
I looked up.
"Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?"
His jaw tightened. He didn't answer.
"I'll be back soon."
I'd heard that before.
Sophomore year, New Year's Eve.
Calista said she was scared being alone in her room.
He said he'd be back soon.
I waited in the plaza until the fireworks ended.
Later, he explained that Calista had been crying too hard. He couldn't just leave.
I didn't break up with him that night.
Because at 3 a.m., when he finally came back, he was holding a cake.
"Don't be mad. I got this for you."
And I forgave him.
Looking back, I was so easy to win over.
After Grayson left, the room smelled like antiseptic and nothing else.
Half an hour later, Calista updated her Instagram.
In the photo, she was sitting on a bench outside his barracks. Wearing his camo jacket.
The caption read:
"He kept saying he was just a cadet commander. But actions always show the truth."
I stared at it for a long time.
Then I liked it.
A few seconds later, Grayson called.
I picked up.
His voice was tight.
"You saw it?"
"Yeah."
"She just posted without thinking. Don't read into it."
I watched the IV drip. One drop at a time.
"Grayson, do you think that as long as you come back, I'll just let everything go?"
Silence.
Then, after a long pause:
"We've been together three years."
"It's not gonna fall apart over something this small."
I didn't respond.
When the nurse pulled the needle out, a little blood seeped from the back of my hand.
I pressed the cotton swab down and handed my phone to the nurse.
"Can you take a picture of my discharge paperwork?"
She did.
I sent it to my Company Officer.
With one line attached:
"Ma'am, I'm requesting to transfer out of Charlie Company."
