ERASING THE PAIN

THE BEGINNING OF US

I don't remember the exact moment Andrew Travis became more than just another classmate. Maybe it was when we started being paired up for group projects, or when he'd quietly laugh at my frustrated outbursts during late-night study sessions. But before I knew it, he wasn't just someone I saw in the lecture halls or labs—he became someone, the one person I couldn't get out of my head.

It's funny how life works. There were about a hundred biology students in our graduating class, but somehow, Andrew and I ended up competing against each other for the top spot every single year. And it wasn't a quiet competition, either. We were both driven by something bigger than ourselves. Andrew had his family's legacy—his father, a renowned surgeon, had expectations looming over him. Me? I had a desire to prove that I wasn't just a small-town girl who got lucky.

We'd both made our intentions clear from the beginning. We wanted to go to med school, and not just any med school—the best. And when you have two people, that driven, it's bound to create sparks.

We weren't enemies, but we weren't exactly friends either, at least not at first. I admired Andrew. His mind was sharp, his instincts even sharper, and he had this effortless way of gliding through material that left most of our classmates in the dust. But that admiration always had an edge to it because no matter how good he was, I always had to be better.

Every grade mattered. Every test was a chance to prove myself. I was always top of the class, and he was always right behind me—top two, with a difference of mere decimal points. It was exhausting, exhilarating, and strangely comforting. Knowing that there was someone just as driven, just as ambitious, who understood the pressure made it easier.

Our rivalry turned into friendship one cold afternoon in November. We had a midterm coming up, one of those make-or-break exams that had everyone on edge. I was sitting in the library, pouring over my notes, when Andrew walked in. He slid into the seat across from me without a word, pulled out his notes, and started studying. We didn't talk much at first. Just the occasional glance when one of us sighed too loudly or shuffled through papers. But after a few hours of quiet, he broke the silence.

"You ready for this?" he asked, still flipping through his textbook.

I looked up, surprised. Andrew wasn't exactly known for casual conversation. "I guess," I said. "You?"

"Not even close," he admitted with a wry smile.

I blinked. "You? Not ready?"

"Shocking, right?" He laughed softly. "I'm human too, Callie."

That was the first time I saw a different side of him—a side that wasn't always so put together. From then on, studying with Andrew became a regular thing. We'd challenge each other, pushing ourselves harder. The more time we spent together, the more we realized that it wasn't just our drive for success that connected us. It was our shared dreams, our relentless pursuit of something bigger.

By the end of our final year, it felt like everything had come full circle. The competition was still there, but now it was more playful than anything else. I think we both knew, deep down, that it didn't matter who came out on top because we were both winning in our own ways.

At the final exam, when the results came out, I remember the exhilaration of seeing my name at the top of the list—Top 1. But right below mine was Andrew's name—Top 2, as always, just a fraction of a point behind. We met each other's eyes across the room, and for the first time, it felt like we were equals.

After the ceremony, our families met. It was a moment I'll never forget. My parents, who had always been quietly proud of me, beamed as they shook hands with Andrew's father. He was a tall, imposing figure, the kind of man you'd expect to command a room without saying a word. Andrew's mother was kinder, more reserved, and she immediately warmed to my mom, talking about our plans for med school as if they were already written in the stars.

I could see the pride in Andrew's eyes when his father clapped him on the back and said, "You did well, son."

I remember Andrew's grin when my dad, in his usual awkward way, congratulated him too. "You two are going to make quite the team," my dad said, his eyes twinkling as if he already knew what I was too stubborn to admit at the time.

And it was true. We had both passed the entrance exam for the same medical school—the one we had been aiming for since the beginning. It felt like destiny, like every late-night study session, every competition, had led to that moment. Andrew and I were going to med school together.

That night, after the graduation dinner, Andrew and I found ourselves walking through campus. It was dark, the sky full of stars, and everything felt surreal. We didn't talk much, just walked in comfortable silence. But as we reached the steps of the biology building, the place where we had spent countless hours, he finally spoke.

"We did it," he said, his voice soft.

"Yeah," I whispered, still in awe. "We really did."

He turned to face me, his expression serious, but there was a softness in his eyes that I hadn't seen before. "I'm proud of you, Callie," he said. "Top of the class."

I smiled. "You too, Andrew. We wouldn't be here without each other."

And I meant it. For all the competition, for all the times I'd pushed myself to beat him, I knew that Andrew had been the one constant in my life through all the chaos. He was the only one who truly understood what it had taken to get there.

That night, standing under the stars, something shifted between us. It wasn't just about school anymore, or about who was the best. It was about us, and the future we were about to step into together.

Without thinking, I leaned in and kissed him. It wasn't planned, it wasn't something I had been waiting for—it just felt right. His lips were warm, soft, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning.

When we finally pulled away, his eyes searched mine. "Callie," he started, his voice barely above a whisper. "Are we really doing this?"

I nodded, feeling more certain than I had in a long time. "Yeah, we are."

We didn't say much after that. We didn't need to. There was an unspoken understanding between us, a promise that no matter what med school threw our way, we'd face it together.