𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭

forty

Delphine

I walked out of the exam room, feeling like I'd been wrung dry. Every question had drained a little more energy, leaving me on autopilot as Eliza and I made our way through the hall. She was rambling on about the last question, swearing up and down that she had probably bombed it, but I could barely hear her. My brain still felt wired, as if the answers I'd memorized were still bouncing around in there.

Eliza grabbed my arm as we stepped into the sunlight outside, practically dragging me forward. "Come on, Del, let's celebrate! We're free for the first time in days—no studying, no sports science, no tests looming over us."

I chuckled, though it was mostly just a release of tension. "I don't know if I'd say we're 'free.' There's still the next unit..."

She groaned dramatically, letting go of my arm just to throw her hands up. "You're impossible. We just survived the most brutal test of the semester, and all you can think about is the next one?"

I shrugged, though a small smile tugged at my lips. "Old habits die hard." It was true—slowing down wasn't something that came naturally to me. Not when my whole life revolved around getting things right, staying in control.

"Fine, we'll ease into it," Eliza said with a sly grin, looping her arm through mine again. "Let's start with lunch at least. My treat."

I started to protest—my usual excuse ready on the tip of my tongue—but she cut me off before I could even get a word out.

"No excuses. You need a break too." She looked at me with that pointed look she always gave when she was being annoyingly persuasive.

"Alright, alright. But I get to pick the place," I conceded, feeling a mix of reluctance and relief.

We ended up at this quiet café a few blocks off campus, tucked away in a cozy corner with a terrace that overlooked a tiny garden. It was all so... normal. The fairy lights strung across the terrace, the hum of quiet conversations around us, the sunlight filtering through the plants. I could almost pretend, just for a moment, that I wasn't always bracing for the next move, the next hurdle.

Eliza wasted no time, collapsing into her seat and scanning the menu. She eyed the burger section, debating aloud which one sounded best. I half-heartedly glanced over the menu too, but I knew I wasn't really here for the food. Eating out, especially like this, felt out of my element. The salad I settled on felt like the safest choice.

"Are you sure that's all you want?" Eliza asked when I ordered, a hint of concern slipping through her usually upbeat tone.

I nodded, giving her my best reassuring smile. "Promise. I'm not that hungry."

She gave me a skeptical look but didn't push it, diving into her burger the second it arrived. She looked so at ease, savoring every bite, completely unbothered by calories or portion sizes. It was like watching someone in an alternate reality.

"You know," she said, setting her burger down and leaning back, "sometimes I really envy you, Del. The dedication, the discipline... I can't even imagine."

I blinked, surprised. "Really?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I love what I do, but I don't know if I could be that focused on one thing all the time. It's intense."

A small smile formed as I toyed with my fork. "Thanks, El."

We finished our food, chatting about random things—dumb campus drama, the funniest rumors we'd heard that week, our shared hatred for the sports science course. For once, I felt myself relaxing, the tight coil of stress loosening as I laughed with her. It felt... nice. Like a rare moment where I didn't have to be on edge, didn't have to be thinking about routines or calories or the next performance.

As we were about to leave, Eliza linked her arm through mine again, grinning up at me. "So, how about celebrating for real this weekend? You know, something fun, no books involved."

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You mean like... going out?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, already planning it in her head. "You need a break, Del. One weekend won't kill you."

I hesitated, already feeling the conflict rising in me. I wanted to say yes, wanted to let myself just be, for once. But there was always that voice, reminding me of what I'd have to make up for. "Maybe," I said, leaving it open.

She grinned, satisfied with even that small promise. We walked back, chatting and laughing the whole way. And for the first time in a long time, I felt something like peace. Maybe, just maybe, I could let myself breathe. Just a little.