"Alright, stop sulking. I know you're upset. I'll take you to a movie later to make it up to you, okay?"
"Now hurry and see if you can still get a standing ticket. Rosalie and I will wait for you at the station when you arrive."
I could practically picture the self-satisfied look on his face, convinced he was being generous and considerate.
"No need," I said evenly.
"What do you mean, ‘no need'? What's that supposed to mean?" Kervin sounded startled.
"I mean, you two keep the tickets. I'll handle my own way back. Don't trouble yourselves." My tone was flat, emotionless.
"Danna! Do you have to be like this?" His voice sharpened again, tinged with irritation.
"Stop acting like a child. How are you going to get home by yourself? You can't get another ticket. What are you going to do, fly back?"
Fly? A bitter laugh rose in my chest.
Yes, as a matter of fact, I really could fly back.
I drew a deep breath, reining in my emotions. "I'm just saying I'll figure something out. You take care of Rosalie."
When Kervin sensed I was giving in, his tone finally softened, laced with a touch of satisfaction.
“That’s better. Don’t make trouble.”
He paused, then added, “Now hurry up and figure out a way to buy a ticket. Even a standing one will do—don’t be so picky.”
"I'm going to grab Rosalie something to eat. She cried all night and her eyes are so swollen."
"Mm." I couldn't bring myself to say anything more.
"Alright then, I'll hang up. We'll talk later."
With that, he ended the call in a rush.
I turned back to packing slowly, folding clothes into a small suitcase for the holiday. I had just snapped it shut when my phone buzzed again—his name flashing across the screen.
It was Kervin again.
My brows knitted but I still answered, saying nothing.
"Danna," he began, sounding lighter now, more at ease than before.
"What are you doing? Any luck with the tickets?"
"Haven't checked." My reply was curt.
He hesitated at my coldness, but quickly pressed on, almost breezy.
"Oh... that's fine, no rush. So, um... Rosalie just woke up. When she heard you gave up your seat for her, she felt really guilty. She said she wants to bring you some specialties from her hometown as a thanks..."
I stayed silent, waiting. I didn't believe for a second that Rosalie was so "kindhearted."
Sure enough, his tone shifted.
"Actually, Danna, there's one more thing..."
He hesitated, then continued awkwardly, "After the holiday, it'll be hard to get seats in the library. Since you'll probably... not have much to do at home anyway, maybe you could... come back a couple of days early and save spots for me and Rosalie? We want to study together."
A laugh of pure disbelief slipped from my lips.
Suddenly, memories flashed through my mind. At the start of the semester, clutching a brand-new laptop, I ran to his dorm with a cup of milk tea, and said with bright-eyed excitement, "I heard the window seats on the third floor of the library overlook the ginkgo avenue. It must be gorgeous in autumn. Let's go tomorrow and study together, okay?"
Kervin frowned, brushing aside the milk tea I offered. "Stop messing around, Danna. The library is twenty minutes away. Walking there wastes time—I'd rather just stay in the dorm and read a couple more pages."
And now, for Rosalie, he wanted me—the girl whose ticket they threw away, who might've been forced to stand seven or eight hours on the train—to return early just to hold seats for the two of them?
My silence must have sounded like hesitation to him. Or worse—agreement.
