Chapter 21: Yaron

DB#23-2

Edited by kenjisato.

Obviously, you need to read part one first.

Vee and Yaron’s story continues.

As I drove across the country, heading to Harvard, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something fundamental was changing inside me. Leaving behind the life I knew, my family, my hometown, my friends, and especially Vee, felt like a rite of passage— a painful shedding of my adolescence.

Leaving everything behind was harder than I thought it would be.

It wasn’t just about leaving physical places behind; it was about leaving behind parts of me that would never come back. I was leaving behind the innocence of adolescence itself.

The days when I could rely on the comfort of familiar faces and routines were over. I felt an overwhelming mix of excitement and sadness, knowing that every new step was one further away from the boy I had been.

It was the kind of growth that hurt.

Every milestone at Harvard would be one more reminder that I was moving further away from my youth.

College, life at Harvard, my career goals—they all demanded a more focused, mature version of myself. And yet, as much as I told myself I was ready for that, a part of me mourned the loss of the carefree, unburdened days that were slipping through my fingers.

My professional path was clear—earn my bachelor’s degree in three years by taking extra credits and summer courses. I had a choice to make— follow my carefully laid-out plan, or conform to the rigid expectations of academia.

Of course, I chose the former. I knew I could complete the Ph.D. program—coursework, research, internships, and dissertation work—in four years. I was highly focused, driven, and my research skills were second to none. After that, a one-year internship would follow, along with postdoctoral work or supervised clinical experience for licensing.

It was a long road, but I had nothing else to do with my life. I wasn’t interested in dating, partying, drinking, or any of the typical college activities. After a few weeks, the other students started calling me ‘the quiet guy’.

Some of my classes were challenging, but I got through them. College was definitely harder than high school. I gave it my all.

But my personal life was a mess. I was trying to move on, to adjust to this new reality, but I couldn’t stop missing Vee. It felt like a part of me was missing—the part that brought vertigo, unpredictability, and joy—the kind that made me live every minute to its fullest.

On our last day together, I drove her to the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport.

The car was a gift from my parents for my eighteenth birthday.

The trip was mostly silent, as there wasn’t much left to say. Occasionally, Vee hummed along with the radio, and I tapped out the rhythm on the steering wheel with my fingers.

When we saw her flight listed on the screen, I had to take a breath and swallow back the lump in my throat. Vee sighed and kissed me hard, just as she had every morning when we met and every night when we said goodbye.

“The next time you see me, I’ll be awesome, Yaron.”

“You’ve always been awesome to me, Vee. Have a good flight. Show them what you’re made of,” I managed to say, fighting back the tears.

“I will, Yaron, and then I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

I winked at her, forcing a smile. I wanted to believe her. I truly did. But ... would she feel the same way when she was in L.A., living the success I knew she was bound to achieve?

I watched Vee walk away, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her hair slightly disheveled, and her eyes full of dreams.

My lips were smiling, but my heart was breaking.