I Confirmed Cambridge While He Was Laughing With Her Chapter 02

I Confirmed Cambridge While He Was Laughing With Her Chapter 02

The next morning, as soon as I walked into lecture hall, every pair of eyes landed on me with strange, judgmental stares.

I followed their gazes to a sheet of paper taped to the wall. It was a crudely drawn stick-figure girl with absurdly over-drawn circles for breasts. Scribbled beside it: Push-Up-Bra Jennifer.

The room fell dead silent for three seconds, then suppressed snickers broke out everywhere.

I walked over and tore it down. My hands shook; it took two tries to rip the poster free.

Scrawled on the back in tiny handwriting: Easily embarrassed, yet dresses like you’re asking for attention.

Martha tapped me on the shoulder from behind. “Jennifer, who drew this? That’s so messed up.”

Silas walked in, picked up the crumpled paper, and glanced over it. “Who did this? That’s childish.”

He found the TA, who posted one message in the group chat: [The bulletin board is shared space. Please maintain basic decency.]

No follow-up investigation. No apologies. But countless people had already taken photos of the drawing and circulated it across dozens of group chats.

In the restroom stall, I overheard two girls in the next compartment talking.

“I heard this all started from Martha’s group chat.”

“Silas is in that chat too, right? Why doesn’t he do anything?”

“Him and Martha are super close. Besides, Jennifer’s his girlfriend. If she isn’t bothered, why should we get involved?”

I stayed locked in my stall until they left.

My phone pinged. A text from Silas on iMessage: [Wanna grab lunch? Mattie wants skillet fajitas from the second-floor dining hall.]

He expected me to sit at the same table with the girl who’d humiliated me in public.

[I’m passing.]

[What’s wrong? Are you mad?]

[Mattie’s actually a really good person. You’d see that if you gave her more of a chance.]

I didn’t reply. Instead I headed straight for the dean’s office. “My academic advisor confirmed my Cambridge placement. I need your signature on my paperwork.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Next month.”

“If you go to Cambridge for an exchange, every connection you’ve built on this campus will be severed. Are you absolutely certain?”

“I’m certain.”

When I failed to reply, Silas showed up downstairs at my apartment to corner me. “I need to talk to you.”

For a moment I thought he would finally address everything Martha had put me through. Instead he spoke excitedly. “Mattie’s birthday is next Wednesday. I want to get her a necklace. Help me pick one out?”

He dragged me to a jewelry store. He browsed for two full hours before settling on one piece.

“What do you think of this one?”

The silver glint stung my eyes. Hanging from the chain was a letter-M charm.

“It’s pretty. How much is it?”

“Thirty-two hundred dollars.”

He swiped his card without hesitation.

I remembered his birthday the year before. I had saved two months of living expenses to buy him an identical-style necklace.

When he unwrapped it, he barely glanced at it. “Nice, but I don’t really wear jewelry.”

I never once saw him put it on after that.

Right after paying for the necklace, Silas got a call from Martha. He looked at me sheepishly. “Mattie’s bored all by herself. She wants me to game with her. Can you head back alone?”

I nodded.

Seeing me quiet and compliant, Silas frowned. “Mattie and I are just friends. She’s just blunt. Don’t stay upset. She specifically told me to bring you to her birthday party, said she wants to apologize to you.”

Her birthday was next Wednesday—the exact day I had my visa appointment. I turned him down flat.

“I can’t make it that day. I’ve got my visa interview.”

“Visa? What for?”

“Just travel.”

“Alright then. The party’s in the evening, so it shouldn’t conflict.”

He never asked where I was going, when, or for how long. His only concern was whether I would show up to Martha’s birthday celebration.

Back inside my apartment, my official Cambridge admission email had arrived.

Move-in day: September 15.

Five days left.