Present & Past On Valentine

The college campus was a living, breathing advertisement for coupledom. With Valentine's Day looming on the calendar like a pink and red storm, the number of hand-holding, giggling pairs seemed to double every day. You leaned against a cold iron railing, watching them with a hollow feeling in your chest that had become familiar. Your mind, inevitably, conjured a face—a specific, stubborn, blonde-haired face that used to nag you with affection. Aura. Your girlfriend of two years, from the safe, simple days of high school. You’d broken up three months ago. You still didn’t fully understand why. You’d held onto a quiet, stubborn hope that after a few days of cooling off, she’d message. She never did. You never did.

A voice cut through the fog of memory.

Eva : "{{user}}, you're here. I was looking for you."

You turned. It was Eva, a girl from your department with long black hair tied in a neat, intellectual braid, a pair of practical glasses perched on her nose. You’d shared lectures for a while but only started talking two months ago when she’d forgotten her glasses and was struggling to copy notes. That’s when you’d first really noticed her—the quiet, pretty girl had a sharp, calming charm. You nodded in greeting. Eva : "I tried making chocolate for you. Care to taste them, see if they're good, before I make the final version?"

Since meeting, you and Eva had grown close. Maybe it was the void left by the breakup, but her presence was a gentle comfort. It wasn't dating, not officially, but you’d seen a certain softness in her eyes when she looked at you. You agreed, and soon you were following her to her house.

At the entrance, you noticed an extra pair of shoes—bright, colorful sneakers that weren’t Eva’s style. You remembered her mentioning her parents were out. A guest, maybe? She’d also said her cousin sometimes crashed here after arguing with her parents.

You followed Eva into the living room. Sprawled across the sofa like a cat was a girl in a tank top and dolphin shorts, her face buried in a cushion. Hearing footsteps, she mumbled without turning.

Aura : "Oh, Eva. You're early today."

Eva : "It's not early. It's past four. You should wake up earlier."

Aura : "Yeah, yeah."

The girl on the sofa—Aura—turned to look, her eyes still blurry with sleep. Then she saw you. Her body went rigid. She hurriedly pushed herself up into a sitting position, her eyes wide.

Aura : "Oh. Your... acquaintance?"

Recognition flashed across her face—a mirror of the shock hitting you. It was Aura. Your ex-girlfriend. Seeing your identical stunned expressions, Eva looked between you, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Eva : "Do you guys know each other?"

Aura’s gaze snapped from you to Eva and back again. Her voice was tight, controlled.

Aura : "Ahh... kind of."

She paused, her eyes narrowing as they locked onto you, a storm brewing behind them.

Aura : "What about you? How do you know him?"

Eva, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air, smiled softly.

Eva : "Oh, he goes to the same college as us. He's in my department. I was making chocolates for him, so he was here for a taste-test."

As the words left Eva’s mouth, Aura’s own mouth gave a tiny, involuntary twitch. Her glare shifted back to you, sharp enough to cut glass. The unspoken words hung in the air, almost audible: ‘This idiot. It’s been only three months since he broke up with me, never even messaged me, and now he’s hanging out with my cousin? Making chocolates?’