Chapter 1 - ISLA
The auditorium buzzed with chatter, the kind that bounced off the high ceiling and made everything feel too bright, too big. Rows of students in caps and gowns shuffled into place, tassels swinging, programs crumpling in nervous hands.
I smoothed mine over and over, palms damp, eyes darting across the crowd. Somewhere out there, Mum and Ben were waving like maniacs, their faces already blurred with happy tears. Zach sat beside me, shoulder pressed against mine, grin impossible to hide.
“This is it,” he whispered, his breath warm near my ear. “The start of everything.”
My stomach flipped — nerves, excitement, something heavier that I tried to ignore.
Because two rows back, Caleb sat stiff in his seat, his cap tipped forward, gaze carefully anywhere but us. He hadn’t looked at me once since we lined up, but I felt the weight of him all the same.
The principal’s voice crackled through the microphone, welcoming families, praising students, calling it a day of endings and beginnings. Zach squeezed my hand under the program, bouncing his knee like he couldn’t wait another second.
“You’re coming to London,” he murmured, almost to himself. “We’ll be in the same city, the same campus. No more distance, no more counting down weekends.”
I managed a smile. “Just no shared apartment.”
He laughed softly, eyes sparking. “Yet.”
Mum’s hand shot into the air from the front row, waving wildly. Ben leaned over, steadying her arm, but his smile was just as big. My throat tightened, a rush of love pressing in — for them, for this moment, for everything we were about to step into.
And yet, when the graduates were called one by one and Zach leaned close to whisper about London, about late nights studying together, about the life that was finally within reach, my gaze flickered back just once.
To Caleb.
His jaw was tight, eyes fixed on the stage, and when Zach’s fingers twined tighter around mine, Caleb’s gaze slid away like the sight burned.
The applause rose around us, names called, futures announced. Zach’s grin widened, and I let myself match it.
Because today wasn’t about shadows. Today was about moving forward.
And tomorrow… tomorrow London would begin.
——————
The restaurant smelled like garlic bread and polished wood, the kind of place Mum insisted was “special enough for graduation.” The table overflowed with dishes already — steaming pasta bowls, pitchers of soda, plates of appetizers that no one touched yet because Mum kept demanding more photos.
“Just one more,” she said, waving her phone like a conductor’s baton. “Ben, move closer. Caleb, smile properly.”
“Mum—” I groaned, cheeks already sore.
Zach slipped his arm around my shoulders anyway, pulling me tight for the photo. “C’mon, Isla. You’ll want these later.”
Click. Click. Mum beamed like she’d just won the lottery.
Across the table, Caleb’s smile was barely there, quick and tight before it vanished. He busied himself with the bread basket, breaking a piece into neat halves.
Ben raised his glass, eyes bright. “To Isla. Top of her class, off to London, and—” he shot me a grin, “—making us all very, very proud.”
Glasses clinked. I felt my chest tighten with the weight of it — their pride, their expectations, Zach’s hand warm against my shoulder.
“To Isla,” Zach echoed, his voice low, but full. His grin hadn’t faded all evening. He looked at me like this was the first page of a story we’d both been waiting to write.
I ducked my head, heat rising in my cheeks.
Mum dabbed her eyes with a napkin. “Oh, sweetheart. You’ve grown up so beautifully. And now London! It’ll be the adventure of a lifetime.”
“Not just London,” Zach said, shooting me a grin. “Same campus. We’ll practically be neighbors.”
Mum clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Ben, isn’t that wonderful?”
Ben chuckled, sipping his drink. “As long as you two still get your studying done.”
Zach laughed, but Caleb’s fork clinked too sharply against his plate. He didn’t say anything, didn’t look at either of us.
I tried not to notice.
But when Mum leaned across the table, asking Caleb about his next semester, his eyes flicked up just once — catching mine before darting away. A glance, nothing more. And yet it felt like a stone dropped into water, ripples spreading wider than anyone else could see.
Zach squeezed my hand under the table, grounding me. His grin was still there, solid and certain.
And I told myself: this was it. This was the beginning.
Even if Caleb’s silence made the air feel heavier than it should.
