Page 61 of The Equation of Us
Sure, I type back.When and where?
Her response is immediate:Student Center. 30 minutes?
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever’s coming.
Me:See you there.
As I change direction, heading toward the Student Center instead of back to my studying, I wonder if this is the universe’s way of maintaining balance—giving me deeper insight into Dean with one hand while potentially taking him away with the other.
Because if Daphne has realized what’s happening between us, if she’s upset about it, I’m not sure what I’ll do. The friend code may be arbitrary, may be unfair when applied to exes, but it exists for a reason.
And I’m about to find out just how much it matters.
Chapter Twenty-One
Clear Conscience
Nora
The student center buzzes with afternoon activity—study groups huddled around laptops, the coffee counter line stretching past the bulletin boards, someone playing acoustic guitar badly near the windows.
I spot Daphne at a corner table, phone in hand, looking more put-together than someone should after being stranded and ghosted less than twenty-four hours ago.
She waves when she sees me, a small smile on her face that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Hey,” I say, sliding into the chair across from her. “What’s up? You said it was important.”
“It is,” she says, setting her phone down. “Do you remember James? The guy I’ve been seeing?”
I nod. “The investment banker from the party.”
“Right. Well, he kind of stood me up last night after this marketing conference I was at,” she explains. “I was stranded out at that event center off Route 9, my phone was dying, and he just never showed up to pick me up like he promised.”
“That’s awful,” I say, genuinely sympathetic while carefully hiding that I already know these details. “What did you do?”
Daphne looks slightly embarrassed. “I actually called Dean. He came and got me.”
I feign mild surprise. “Oh? How did that go?”
“It was fine. Thankfully, things aren’t awkward between us or anything. I mean, it’s Dean… I know him like the back of my hand.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Anyway, that’s not the important part. James called this morning.”
“What did he say?” I ask, leaning forward with appropriate curiosity.
“His mom’s in the hospital. That’s why he never showed up,” she explains. “Apparently, she had some kind of cardiac episode, and he rushed to the hospital. His phone died, and in the panic, he completely forgot he was supposed to pick me up.”
“Wow,” I say, maintaining a neutral expression. “That’s… quite a situation.”
“He sent me a picture from the hospital waiting room,” she says with a soft laugh. “So unless he’s going to extreme lengths to cover a lie, I think he’s telling the truth.”
“So what’s bothering you? It sounds like he had a genuine emergency.”
“The problem is how quickly I went to ‘he’s ghosting me’ instead of ‘something might be wrong.’” She looks up at me, vulnerability clear in her expression. “Am I that damaged from past relationships that I always expect the worst?”
I pause. Proceed carefully. “I think it’s natural to protect yourself, especially after you’ve been hurt before.”
Daphne nods, thoughtful. “I keep comparing him to Dean,” she admits. “Not in a ‘I wish we were still together’ way, but… Dean was always so reliable. Even when things weren’t working between us, I knew I could count on him.”
Like last night, I think, when he dropped everything—dropped me—to help her.
