Then I hung up without saying a word.
The phone slipped from my hand. The screen stayed lit, and a livestream notification popped up.
The profile picture showed a woman's side profile. I would have recognized that face anywhere. Edith Walker.
Something compelled me to tap on it.
The account was called "Edith & A's Secret Garden." Five years of hidden love between her and a man, documented for the world to see.
No faces shown directly, but the details were everywhere.
In one photo, the watch on the man's wrist was the anniversary gift I'd given Jesse.
In one video, the man's low, quiet laugh was the same one I'd fallen asleep to for five years.
Hundreds of thousands of followers flooded the comments, gushing about their fairy-tale romance.
So a man who spent nearly every waking hour by my side had still found the time to build another love story, one blessed and celebrated by strangers.
I was about to swipe away when Edith's voice drifted out from the livestream.
"I saw this news story recently about a college girl who got harassed by a professor, and it reminded me of what happened at our school back in the day."
My fingertips went rigid.