The First Time I Let Go

# Chapter 1: Return
## Eliza's POV

The campus looked exactly the same, yet everything felt different.

I stood in the middle of the quad, my suitcase beside me, taking in the familiar sights—the ivy-covered library where Daniel and I had first met, the coffee shop where we'd spent countless hours studying and talking, the path leading to the art building where I'd watched him paint. Junior year. We were officially upperclassmen now, with all the expectations and opportunities that came with that status.

Students streamed past me, returning from summer break with tanned skin and fresh haircuts, calling out greetings to friends they hadn't seen in months. The energy was infectious—a sense of possibility hanging in the air along with the late August heat. But beneath my excitement ran an undercurrent of something else. Uncertainty? Anxiety? I couldn't quite name it.

"Eliza!"

I turned to see Jasmine running toward me, her braids bouncing, arms outstretched. We collided in a hug that nearly knocked me off balance.

"You're back!" she squealed. "How was New York? How was Paris? How was Amsterdam? I want to hear everything!"

I laughed, her enthusiasm washing away some of my strange melancholy. "It's good to see you too. And it was all amazing. Life-changing, actually."

"I want details," she insisted, linking her arm through mine as we began walking toward our dorm. "Especially about the reunion in Amsterdam. Was it as romantic as it sounds? Two lovers separated by an ocean, finally coming together in one of the most beautiful cities in Europe?"

"It was perfect," I said, and meant it. Those two weeks traveling through Europe with Daniel had been magical—Amsterdam's canals, Berlin's energy, Prague's fairy-tale beauty, Vienna's elegance. We'd reconnected after our summer apart, sharing our experiences, discovering new parts of each other that had emerged during our separation.

"And now?" Jasmine asked, giving me a sidelong glance. "How does it feel to be back in the mundane world of classes and cafeteria food?"

I hesitated, not sure how to articulate the strange feeling that had been growing since our plane landed back in the States. "It's... an adjustment," I said finally. "We both changed this summer. In good ways, I think. But still, it's different."

Jasmine nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense. You had these separate amazing experiences, and now you're trying to fit back into your old life together."

"Exactly," I said, relieved that she understood. "It's not bad different. Just... different different."

"And when does the artistic genius return?" she asked as we reached our dorm building.

"Tomorrow," I said, checking my phone automatically, though I knew there were no new messages. "His flight gets in at noon. I'm picking him up at the airport."

"So you have one night to tell me absolutely everything before you disappear into Daniel-land for the foreseeable future," Jasmine declared, holding the door open for me. "I expect full details, Morgan. Spare nothing."

I laughed, following her inside. "Deal."

Our room looked exactly as we'd left it in May, except cleaner. Same twin beds on opposite walls, same desks under the windows, same bulletin boards waiting to be filled with new memories. I set my suitcase on my bed and began unpacking while Jasmine perched cross-legged on her own bed, watching me.

"So," she said, "New York first. How was the internship? Did they offer you anything for next summer?"

"It was incredible," I said, hanging up dresses I'd barely worn in the city, too busy working to socialize much. "I learned so much about the publishing industry—the good, the bad, and the ugly. My supervisor was amazing, though. She's offered me remote work during the school year, reading manuscripts and writing reader reports."

"Eliza! That's huge!" Jasmine exclaimed. "Paid?"

"Yes, actually. Not much, but something. And she hinted that there might be a more substantial position next summer if I'm interested."

"Of course you're interested," Jasmine said. "That's your dream, right? Breaking into publishing?"

"Right," I agreed, though something in her phrasing made me pause. My dream. Was it still? The summer in New York had confirmed my love for books and writing, but it had also opened my eyes to other possibilities—literary agencies, small presses, even literary magazines. The path forward wasn't as clear-cut as it had once seemed.

"And how's Daniel's art career?" Jasmine continued, oblivious to my momentary hesitation. "Did the Paris internship live up to expectations?"

I smiled, thinking of Daniel's excited phone calls and video chats throughout the summer, his face animated as he described the gallery, the artists he was meeting, the techniques he was learning. "Beyond expectations," I said. "His supervisor at the gallery was really impressed with his work. She featured one of his paintings in their emerging artists showcase in July."

"Wow," Jasmine said. "That's a big deal, right?"

"Huge," I confirmed. "There were actual collectors there, gallery owners from other cities. He made some important connections."

"That's amazing," Jasmine said. "You must be so proud of him."

"I am," I said, and I was. Genuinely, completely proud of Daniel's talent being recognized, of his hard work paying off. Yet there was that strange feeling again, a tiny knot in my stomach that I couldn't quite identify.

"And Amsterdam?" Jasmine prompted, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. "The grand reunion?"

I felt my face warm at the memory. "It was... perfect," I said again. "We spent two weeks traveling—Amsterdam, Berlin, Prague, Vienna. It was like something out of a movie."

"And?" Jasmine pressed. "Did absence make the heart grow fonder?"

"Definitely," I said, remembering the moment I'd spotted Daniel at the Amsterdam airport, how my heart had seemed to restart after a summer of beating at half-capacity. "It was like... all summer I was holding my breath without realizing it, and seeing him again finally let me exhale."

Jasmine sighed dramatically. "That's disgustingly romantic. I hate you both."

I laughed, throwing a pillow at her. "You asked!"

"I know, I know. I'm living vicariously through your perfect relationship." She caught the pillow and hugged it to her chest. "Seriously, though, I'm happy for you guys. You deserve it after a summer apart."

I nodded, turning back to my unpacking to hide the sudden confusion on my face. Perfect relationship. That's what we had, wasn't it? The kind of love people wrote songs and poems about. The kind that survived distance and flourished. The kind that everyone envied.

So why did I feel this strange disconnection? This sense that something had shifted during our summer apart, something fundamental that I couldn't quite name?

"Earth to Eliza," Jasmine said, waving her hand. "You zoned out. What's up?"

I shook my head, forcing a smile. "Nothing. Just jet lag, I think."

Jasmine studied me for a moment, her expression skeptical. "If you say so. But if there's something bothering you..."

"There's not," I insisted, perhaps too quickly. "Everything's great. Really."

She nodded, though she didn't look entirely convinced. "Okay. Well, I'm starving. Want to grab dinner at the dining hall? I heard they renovated over the summer."

"Sure," I agreed, grateful for the change of subject. "Let me just finish unpacking the essentials."

As we walked to the dining hall later, Jasmine chattering about her summer internship at a marketing firm in Los Angeles, I tried to shake off the strange mood that had settled over me. I was being ridiculous. Daniel and I were fine—better than fine. We'd survived a summer apart, maintained our connection across an ocean, and reunited with the same love and passion we'd always shared.

So what if things felt slightly different? We were growing, evolving, becoming the people we were meant to be. That was natural. Expected, even.

The dining hall was crowded with returning students, the volume of conversation nearly deafening after a summer of quieter meals. We found a table in the corner and settled in with our trays.

"Oh my god," Jasmine said suddenly, her eyes fixed on something over my shoulder. "Ryan alert."

I tensed, then deliberately relaxed. "It's fine," I said. "Ancient history."

"He's coming this way," Jasmine warned. "With Megan."

I turned slightly, catching sight of my ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend—a petite blonde from the cheerleading squad—making their way through the dining hall. Ryan spotted me at the same moment, his step faltering briefly before he nodded in acknowledgment. I nodded back, surprised by the complete absence of emotion I felt. No anger, no jealousy, not even awkwardness. Just... nothing.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," Jasmine observed as they passed our table without stopping.

"What did you expect? A dramatic confrontation? Tears? A food fight?"

"At least some tension," she said, sounding disappointed. "But you looked completely unbothered."

"I am unbothered," I said, realizing it was true. "Ryan feels like part of a different life now. Like someone I knew in high school, not someone I dated last year."

Jasmine smiled. "That's what real love does, I guess. Makes all the previous stuff seem insignificant."

I nodded, though her words triggered that strange feeling again—a flutter of unease, a question I couldn't quite formulate. Before I could examine it further, my phone buzzed with a text from Daniel.

*Just boarded my connecting flight in Chicago. Can't wait to see you tomorrow. I have news.*

My heart skipped. News? Good or bad? His tone seemed positive, but text messages were notoriously difficult to interpret.

*Safe travels! Can't wait to see you too. What news?*

His response came quickly: *Rather tell you in person. But it's exciting. I think.*

I showed the message to Jasmine, who raised her eyebrows. "Intriguing. What do you think it is?"

"No idea," I said, though possibilities were already racing through my mind. A gallery connection? An exhibition opportunity? Something related to his senior project?

"Maybe he's going to propose," Jasmine suggested with a mischievous grin.

I nearly choked on my water. "We're twenty-one, Jas. And juniors in college."

"So? When you know, you know," she shrugged. "And you two definitely know."

Did we? The question rose unbidden in my mind, surprising me with its intensity. Of course we did. Daniel was my first real love, the person who understood me better than anyone, who supported my dreams, who saw me—truly saw me—in a way no one else ever had.

But something had changed over the summer. Not in how much I loved him, but in how I understood that love. As if the distance had given me a new perspective, a wider lens through which to view our relationship.

"Hello? You're doing it again," Jasmine said, waving her hand in front of my face. "Seriously, what's going on with you today?"

I sighed, setting down my fork. "I don't know. I feel... off somehow. Like I'm waiting for something to happen, but I don't know what."

"Pre-reunion jitters," Jasmine diagnosed confidently. "You built up this moment in your head all summer, and now that it's almost here, you're overthinking it."

"Maybe," I said, though it didn't feel quite right. "Or maybe it's just the transition back to campus life after New York. The city has a different energy, you know? Everything moves faster there."

"That makes sense," Jasmine nodded. "Culture shock in reverse."

We finished our dinner, talking about our class schedules and the campus events planned for the first week. By the time we returned to our room, I felt more settled, Jasmine's practical perspective helping to ground me.

As I got ready for bed that night, I found myself standing at the window, looking out at the campus spread below. The same buildings, the same paths, the same trees I'd walked past hundreds of times. Yet somehow, returning to this familiar place after a summer of new experiences made everything look different—as if I were seeing it through new eyes.

Or perhaps it wasn't the campus that had changed, but me.

My phone buzzed with another text from Daniel: *Boarding final flight. Will dream of you. Tomorrow can't come soon enough.*

I smiled, typing back: *Sleep well. I'll be the one at the airport holding a sign with your name on it.*

His response was immediate: *I love you.*

Three simple words that had once seemed so monumental, so life-changing. Now they were part of our daily vocabulary, exchanged as naturally as breathing. *I love you too,* I replied, because I did. That hadn't changed.

But as I climbed into bed, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, I couldn't shake the feeling that something else had—something fundamental about how I understood myself, my future, and my place in the world.

The summer apart had shown me that I could stand on my own, that I had value and identity outside of my relationship with Daniel. I'd navigated New York City alone, built professional connections, made decisions without consulting anyone else. I'd discovered parts of myself that had nothing to do with being Daniel's girlfriend.

And while our reunion in Amsterdam had been everything I'd hoped for—passionate, joyful, affirming—it had also highlighted the subtle ways we'd grown in different directions during our separation. Not apart, exactly, but on parallel paths that seemed slightly further from each other than they had been before.

Was that normal? Healthy, even? Or was it the beginning of something else—a gradual divergence that would eventually lead us to different destinations?

I turned over, punching my pillow into a more comfortable shape. I was overthinking this, just as Jasmine had said. Daniel and I were fine. Better than fine. Tomorrow we'd reunite, and all these strange, formless worries would dissipate in the reality of his presence.

But as I drifted toward sleep, one question lingered at the edges of my consciousness: What news did Daniel have to share? And why did I have the unsettling feeling that whatever it was, it would change everything?