Chapter 1
Veronika
The first autumn at the university smelled of burnt leaves and my own slowly rising despair. The golden light flooding the endless state university campus felt artificial to me—like a movie set where I had been cast in a non-speaking role. I was a freshman in the Department of Foreign Languages and Literature, a naive girl who believed that if I moved to this massive city following my boyfriend, our story would finally find a solid foundation.
He was a “veteran” here—his second year, his football team, his rules. I, on the other hand, felt like a ghost haunting the hallways, clutching a heavy volume of Hugo to my chest as if it were the only shield capable of protecting me from reality.
Last night still throbbed in my temples with a dull, aching pain.
“Staying late for French again?” He wasn’t asking. He spat the words out, standing in the doorway and blocking my exit from the room. “I’m told this professor is a bit too interested in your opinion during lectures. Why the hell are you suddenly his favorite, Roni? What is it you’re lacking?”
“It’s just phonetics... I just got here, I need to establish myself,” I tried to speak steadily, but my voice betrayed me with a slight tremble. “Reed demands the same from everyone.”
“Liar!” His fist slammed into the doorframe, making me flinch. “After everything I’ve done for you! I insisted you come here, I carved out a place for you in my life! And you? Why do you act this way with other men? And why, when I invite you to the bar, are you always whining about studying? What’s the point of those pennies from your translations if you don’t even know how to have fun? You’re boring, Moore. Just dead weight.”
The hurt burned my throat like neat whiskey. I tried to be perfect. I tried to fit in with his new circle, his status as a football player, but every time I found myself guilty simply for the fact of my existence.
After sitting in the silence of my room for several hours, I realized I couldn’t breathe in this vacuum. The tension between us had become tangible, sticky. I started dialing his number. Once. Five times. Ten. I wanted to apologize, though I didn’t know for what. I just wanted to hear: “It’s fine, Roni, come over.” But he didn’t pick up.
On the twentieth call, someone finally answered. Deafening music roared in the background, mixed with screams and the clink of glass.
“What do you want?” a loud, vulgar female laugh erupted.
My heart skipped a beat, then began hammering in my throat.
“Where is Ethan? Where is my boyfriend?” I managed to choke out.
“He’s veeeery busy, babe. He’s in no mood for you right now,” the girl sang out and hung up with a laugh.
The world around me began to crack. This wasn’t just a fight. It was a lesson. A public punishment for daring to have my own interests, for not going with him the night before. With trembling fingers, I dialed Sophie, my roommate, who knew everything there was to know about the Columbus nightlife.
“Please, tell me, do you know where Ethan is right now?”
“Roni! We’re at Sigma Alpha! This place is absolutely insane!” Sophie screamed, trying to be heard over the heavy bass. “Steven and I are at the beer pong table, this party is so lit! Just get down here, forget the textbooks!”
I didn’t ask for details. Driven by pure adrenaline and pain, I laced up my sneakers, threw a shirt over my tank top, and ran out into the warm Ohio night. I sprinted across campus, past couples in love, past laughing groups, noticing nothing. Tears blurred my vision, turning the city lights into smeared stains. I had to see him. I had to understand why he was doing this to me.
When I reached the Sigma Alpha house, the chaos became physical. The massive mansion was literally vibrating with bass. The air hung thick with the smell of booze, sweat, and cheap cigarettes. Half-dressed bodies ground against one another in a frenzied dance. I shoved through the crowd, feeling shoulders slam into mine, catching the mocking glares directed at my disheveled state.
And then, I saw him. In the center of the living room, on a large leather sofa.
Ethan.
The girl from the phone was straddling his lap, her arms draped around his neck. Ethan had his head tilted back, roaring with wild laughter as he poured tequila down her throat straight from the bottle. She writhed in his grip while the crowd around them cheered and howled.
“Ethan!” I screamed, stepping into his space. My voice cracked, turning into a hoarse plea.
He turned his head slowly. In his alcohol-hazed eyes, there wasn’t a trace of remorse—only cold, calculating fury. He carelessly shoved the girl aside like a toy he’d grown bored with and stood up, towering over me.
“Ethan, what is happening? What are you doing?!” I was choking on tears, feeling my dignity drain away onto the filthy floor.
“I’ll tell you exactly what’s happening,” he spat, his voice so thick with contempt that I instinctively recoiled. “I’m sick of your little flings with professors. I’m nauseated by your ‘saintly’ act. Forget my name, Roni. From this second on, you’re nothing to me. A blank space. Zero. Go crawl to your professor; let him comfort you by whispering those French novels in your ear. You love being told what to do, don’t you?”
He turned around, grabbed the girl’s hand with a possessive jerk, and led her up the stairs toward the bedrooms without looking back.
I was left standing in the center of the hall, pinned under the gaze of dozens of mocking eyes.
“Look at that—the teacher’s pet just got dumped!” a blonde girl shrieked.
“Hey, Moore!” a guy from the team roared, blocking my path and crudely gesturing to his crotch. “Forget that old man Reed. Come here, we’ll show you some better options!”
I spun around and bolted out of the house, stumbling and gasping for air. The night air of Columbus felt like molten lead—it scorched my lungs, making it impossible to take a single full breath. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the curb at the very edge of the road.
Sobs tore from my chest in hoarse, jagged gasps. The person closest to me. The one who swore I was his entire life, who begged me to follow him here. And now, he had destroyed me. He chose to believe the filthy rumors and cheap gossip they’d been poisoning him with behind my back. He didn’t want to listen to me, didn’t want to believe my eyes—he simply threw me out of his life, crushing our “us” with a single, contemptuous accusation. He trampled me into the dirt simply because he grew bored of fighting for the truth.
I sat there on the icy stone, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to hold onto the shards of my own soul. My fingers clawed into my shoulders, nails digging into my skin, but I felt nothing—everything inside had already been burned to ashes. The laughter of strangers and the roar of cars pierced my ears like sharp needles. The world kept turning, utterly indifferent to my catastrophe.
Gathering the last scraps of my strength, I forced myself to stand. My knees trembled, and the world blurred through my tears, but I ran. I ran toward my only sanctuary—the quiet dorm room. To the place where I could finally fall apart in the darkness, where no one could see my shame.
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