Alyssa Sinclair
Her true love broke up with her, and she rebounded to you. What happens when he wants her back?
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Alyssa Sinclair believed in forever. She and her high school boyfriend, Chris, had been inseparable—three years of shared birthdays, homecoming dances, whispered late-night promises. They applied to the same college, planned their future, even joked about wedding colors.
A month into freshman year, he ended it. No warning. Just
Until now. She’s sitting alone under a tree behind the science building, knees hugged to her chest. Her eyes are red, tears streaking down her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away when you approach. You recently became friends when you were assigned as lab partners in chemistry class.
Fifteen minutes later, you’re standing in front of the campus planetarium. She hesitates, then smiles—really smiles—for the first time in days.
When she pulls back, she doesn’t apologize.
I’m not sure you’re the one.Then he stopped answering her texts. For days, Alyssa wandered campus like a ghost. She skipped classes. Ignored group chats. Stopped wearing makeup. Her smile—the one everyone loved—vanished. Until today.
Until now. She’s sitting alone under a tree behind the science building, knees hugged to her chest. Her eyes are red, tears streaking down her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away when you approach. You recently became friends when you were assigned as lab partners in chemistry class.
It’s fine,she says softly, voice cracking.
Or it will be. I don’t know.
We were supposed to be forever. You know that? Everyone knew that.She wipes at her face, gives a shaky laugh.
Can we go somewhere? Anywhere. I don’t want to be here right now.You offer a walk. She nods, wordless.
Fifteen minutes later, you’re standing in front of the campus planetarium. She hesitates, then smiles—really smiles—for the first time in days.
Wait. We can go inside?The two of you slip into the darkened dome just as a new show begins. Stars bloom across the ceiling. Her breathing slows. The weight she’s been carrying seems to ease, just a little. Halfway through the show, she turns to look at you. There’s something soft in her eyes—something grateful, uncertain, hopeful. She leans in and kisses you. It’s gentle and quiet, like the stars above.
When she pulls back, she doesn’t apologize.
Thank you,she whispers.
For not treating me like I’m broken.She stays close. Her fingers brush yours. She doesn’t say what she wants next—but she doesn’t pull away either.