Filtered Love Chapter 2

The next morning, I unlocked my phone.

Inside my chat with Brooke, the words Let's break up hung quietly at the bottom of the screen.

No response.

Just like every message I had sent over the past four years, it had vanished into an abyss.

I stared at the screen and let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh.

She couldn't even be bothered to reply to a breakup.

Just as I went to set the phone down, a notification pinged in our campus athletic group chat. It was the roster for the upcoming intercollegiate women's basketball tournament, and my eyes immediately caught Brooke’s name on East State’s team.

Chase was listed right beside her as part of their traveling staff.

My roommate leaned over my shoulder, taking a look before whistling. "Those two are East State's golden couple. Live in the library together. Even the professors say they're made for each other." He pulled up a screenshot of Chase's post. "Look at that. One's ranked first in the department, the other's second. Double the honors."

I swallowed down the acidity rising in my throat and forced a nod.

Beneath the desk, my fingernails dug deep into my palms.

From that day on, I deliberately avoided the campus rec center, the courts, and every path where I might cross paths with the visiting teams.

Yet right outside the academic advisor’s office, I walked straight into her.

Brooke had gotten thinner, her expression calm and composed as she cradled a stack of paperwork. When she saw me, her steps faltered, followed by a slight smile. "Tyler? It's been a while. Let's grab dinner."

My first instinct was to decline. But a breakup of four years wasn't something to brush under the rug; it deserved to be stated clearly to her face.

So I nodded.

The moment the gesture registered, Chase casually stepped up beside her, flashing me an easy smile. "Tyler's here too? Perfect. Let's all go together." He tilted his head toward Brooke. "Picked a spot yet?"

Brooke shook her head, and Chase immediately turned back to me. "Why don't you pick, man? It's not every day we all get together."

I tossed out the name of a spicy Szechuan place right outside the campus gate.

Chase frowned. "Her stomach's been acting up lately. The doctor told her strictly no spicy food. Don't you know that?"

I pressed my lips together and suggested a light dim sum teahouse instead.

Chase shook his head again. "Too greasy. Last time she ate there, she had acid reflux half the night." He paused, letting out a soft, exasperated chuckle. "Tyler, how do you not even know what she can and can't eat?"

I threw out four or five different places. For every single one, Chase found a reason to shoot it down on Brooke’s behalf.

Too far. Too loud. Questionable hygiene. The wait would take forever.

Finally, he gave a resigned sigh, as if making a gracious concession. "Forget it, I'll pick. Neither of you can be trusted to handle this."

Brooke smiled softly, her voice warm. "Thanks, Chase."

Chase rolled his eyes at her, half-teasing. "I'm literally playing the middleman here. You owe me big time for this meal. Make sure you thank me properly later."

The two of them bantered back and forth. I stood on the sidewalk beside them, watching Brooke’s laughing profile as she looked at Chase. A fist seemed to squeeze around my heart, suffocating the air from my lungs.

Four years of long distance. I had thought it was merely miles separating us.

As it turned out, the distance was so vast that I had been completely phased out of her life.

The words Let's break up sat trapped in my throat, and suddenly, saying them aloud felt entirely redundant.

When we sat down, Chase took the menu.

He pointed to a scrambled egg dish with shrimp, noting that Brooke was watching her calories and needed it light on oil. He pointed to steamed greens, reminding the server she needed something gentle on her stomach. Then he ordered a slow-simmered soup, turning to smile at Brooke. "You said you loved this soup last time. I remembered."

Brooke nodded, chiming in naturally, "Do you want to add the salt-and-pepper ribs you like?"

Back and forth they went. I sat across from them like a stranger sharing a communal table.

Chase suddenly slid the menu across to me. "Tyler, order something you like."

Just as I parted my lips, Brooke spoke first. "He doesn't eat spicy food. Get him..."

She froze.

Her finger hovered over the laminated page, her brows slightly furrowed.

After an awkward beat, she pointed to two dishes, her voice vague. "Get him this, and this."

I looked down at the items she had selected.

Sautéed celtuce. Cold-tossed wood ear mushrooms.

A bitter sting rushed up my throat.

Those were dishes I had never touched in my life. I was violently allergic to mushrooms, and celtuce caused hives to break out all over my skin.

She had forgotten entirely.

Chase reached over and gave the back of Brooke’s head a playful pat, laughing. "Did you study your brain into mush? Those are my favorites!"

Brooke blinked, momentarily stunned. Then, avoiding my gaze, she nudged the menu an inch closer to my side. "Just order whatever you want."

I shook my head and pushed my chair back. "No need. I have somewhere to be tonight. I'll get going."

Before turning to leave, I paused, looking down at her. "Check your messages when you get a chance."

She gave an indifferent hum. "Chase filters them for me. If it's important, he'll remind me to reply."

I let out a faint laugh, the corners of my mouth pulling tight until it hurt.

It turned out I didn't even meet the threshold of important.

In that case, there was no point waiting for an answer.

I turned around and pushed open the restaurant door. The evening wind rushed against my face, perfectly cold.