He Gave His Password To Her And Lost His Future Chapter 12

He Gave His Password To Her And Lost His Future Chapter 12

I went back to school to prepare for finals.

As exam week got closer, our old high school group chat turned into a nonstop stream of complaints about studying and classes.

But Julian, who used to dominate every conversation, disappeared completely after the night I told him to stay away from me.

According to my mom, he had moved into the school dorms to focus on his post-grad year full-time so he could reapply to MIT.

Strict schedule. Closed campus program. He only came home once a month.

Mom said that before he moved out, she used to hear him reciting SAT vocabulary on the balcony before sunrise every morning.

I barely looked up from my phone.

“Yeah,” I said indifferently. “He did it to himself.”

After finals, I came home for Christmas break.

There were only a few days left until Christmas, so Mom and I went to Target and bought enough decorations and groceries to fill two shopping carts.

Soon the whole house smelled like cinnamon candles and pine.

Christmas lights glowed across the windows.

The house looked warm. Festive.

It used to be Julian’s favorite place.

His parents practically lived overseas year-round and treated him like an afterthought. As long as money showed up in his bank account, they considered parenting handled.

“Vivienne,” Mom said one evening while staring at the dark house across the street, “why hasn’t Julian come home yet?”

“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. He can’t seriously be spending it alone in the dorms, right? Poor kid. He probably won’t even get a proper Christmas dinner.”

She sighed softly.

“He must be under so much pressure this year.”

I kept scrolling through my phone.

“Mm.”

“That’s his problem.”

I didn’t expect Julian to show up at our front door on Christmas Eve.

He walked in carrying two heavy gift boxes.

Mom immediately brightened.

“Julian! School’s been rough, huh? Come sit down and eat. Vivienne bought a ton of fireworks earlier. After dinner we’re driving to the Longbridge overlook to set them off together.”

Julian nodded obediently.

I barely touched my food before setting down my fork and heading upstairs.

Behind me, I heard Julian freeze mid-motion with his knife and fork still in hand.

Mom called after me.

“Vivienne, you begged me to buy Boston lobster, and now you’re not even eating any?”

I didn’t turn around.

“I lost my appetite.”

The entire table fell awkwardly silent.

Julian looked trapped.

He couldn’t eat comfortably, but leaving immediately would only make things worse.

So he lowered his head and quietly picked at the food in front of him without saying a word.

The whole dinner felt stiff and painfully cautious.

“Don’t take it personally, Julian,” Mom reassured him gently. “Vivienne’s probably just exhausted from dragging me around the store all day. Once she rests a little, we’ll go do fireworks together.”

Julian nodded again.

But even as the clock crept toward eleven, I never came downstairs.

Finally, Julian stood up.

“Mrs. Winslow, I should head home,” he said quietly, bowing his head slightly. “Thank you for dinner.”

“And…”

He stopped himself before finishing the sentence.

Mom walked him to the door.

“Come visit Vivienne sometime when you’re free, okay?”

Julian nodded again.

At this point, he didn’t trust himself to speak anymore. He was afraid the second he opened his mouth, he’d break down.

Outside, a snowstorm swallowed the neighborhood whole.

Thankfully, the heavy snow hid the tears running down his face.

I stood by my bedroom window and watched him silently.

He remained motionless in our front garden.

Snow soaked through his coat in uneven patches. The wind grew harsher by the minute, burying him deeper and deeper in white.

Ice crystals clung to his lashes.

Every blink sent them falling.

His lips had turned bluish-purple from the cold, and he stood there numbly for what felt like forever before distant Christmas music drifted from a nearby house.

“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know.”

“Where the treetops glisten and children listen to hear sleigh bells in the snow.”

Julian looked up at my dark bedroom window behind the closed curtains.

Then he whispered softly:

“Merry Christmas, Vivienne.”

Not long after that night, Julian moved away.

No one knew where he went.

I returned to school.

Spring came quietly.

The bare branches outside the dorms sprouted fresh green leaves, then thick summer foliage before I even realized how much time had passed.

Another college admissions season arrived.

Everyone in our old class group chat kept wondering where Julian had ended up after taking a gap year to reapply.

But during the week acceptance letters came out, he suddenly left every group chat.

After that, he disappeared completely from our world.

By freshman orientation, I found myself flipping through the university student directory again and again.

Julian’s name wasn’t there.

The boy who had almost made it to MIT, only to have his application sabotaged by the girl he loved, had still failed to get back in.

Maybe he ended up at some random community college.

Maybe he gave up altogether.

Some mistakes destroy you long before you realize it.

Years later, I graduated from Massachusetts Institute of Technology and landed a job at a major Silicon Valley tech company.

My old high school classmates still held reunions every year.

The gatherings kept getting bigger.

People brought spouses.

Then kids.

The banquet halls became louder and warmer every year.

And eventually, everyone forgot about Julian.

Including me.

That reckless first love.

That unforgettable heartbreak.

In the end, all of it faded into the past like smoke.

My life no longer had Julian in it.

Only endless flowers in bloom and clear skies stretching for miles.