All Fairy Tales Are Lies

When the photographer called for us to pose, my graduation cap slipped off. I bent down to pick up the tassel.

By the time I stood back up, my boyfriend, Andy, and our professors daughter, Molly, were already standing shoulder-to-shoulder dead center in the front row.

The camera flash went off, freezing the exact moment they turned to smile at each other. Meanwhile, I was squeezed onto the absolute edge of the frame.

It looked as though I was just a random pedestrian who had accidentally wandered into the shot.

They were the golden couple of the law school. Andy was a once-in-a-century legal prodigy, and Molly was the heir to a massive legal dynasty.

And me? I was just the invisible "nerd" who had barely managed to keep up with the curriculum by organizing Andy's study notes for the last four years.

Molly always loved to hook her arm through mine, her voice dripping with sweet condescension. "You are such a hard worker, Maya. Unlike me. I just rely on my dad for everything."

Then she would take the exact case briefs I had stayed up all night compiling and use them to completely dominate alongside Andy in our mock trials.

Staring at that "picture-perfect" graduation photo being passed around the class, a bitter wave of irony washed over me.

I was completely exhausted. I was done running on this rugged, miserable path trying to catch up to a genius.

The graduation photo dropped into our class group chat, immediately followed by a barrage of exclamation marks.

"They look like an actual power couple!"

"Andy and Molly are literally the face of the law school!"

"So gorgeous together!"

I stood a few feet away from the laughing crowd, my fingertips turning ice cold.

In the photo, half of my body was practically cropped out of the frame.

Andy had his arm casually draped over Mollys shoulder. She was tilting her head toward him, laughing, the sunlight catching the ends of her hair. It looked like a still from a movie.

And there I was, awkwardly gripping my fallen cap, looking like a total outsider.

The group chat kept pinging. Someone tagged me.

"@Maya, why are you standing all the way out there? Quick, someone photoshop her closer to the middle!"

Before I could even type a response, Andy replied in the chat.

"Drop it, guys. Maya never really likes taking pictures anyway."

His tone was incredibly casual, as if my exclusion was just a totally normal, everyday fact of life.

He was right. I didn't like taking pictures.

Because I didn't like putting myself in any situation where I would inevitably be compared, because I always ended up looking pathetic and dim next to them.

Molly immediately sent a voice memo, her tone deliberately dragged out to sound sweet and entirely innocent.

"Yeah, guys! Maya has always preferred to stay out of the spotlight."

"But next time we take photos, we definitely have to stand together. I love Maya so much!"

The second her memo ended, Andy sent a thumbs-up emoji in agreement.

I stared at the screen for a few seconds, then quietly exited the chat.

I scrolled through my camera roll. It was completely stuffed with photos of whiteboards, indexed case files, and legal precedent charts.

There were even rough drafts of opening statements for mock trials. Over the last four years, I had taken ten times as many photos of legal documents as I had of my own face.

I tapped on the top folder, titled Andys Criminal Procedure Outline.

Inside were hundreds of pages of meticulously organized notes. The handwriting was perfect, every key argument color-coded and clearly annotated.

Last semester, Andy had used this exact outline to score the absolute highest grade in the entire department.

The senior partner teaching the seminar had praised him in front of the entire lecture hall.

"Andy is not just naturally brilliant. His ability to synthesize complex case law is already at a professional level."

Andy had just smiled effortlessly. "I guess I just got lucky and managed to smooth out the logic."

He hadn't mentioned me once. Not a single syllable.

I closed my photo app, opened a delivery service, and ordered a premium eel rice bowl I usually couldn't justify spending the money on.

My phone buzzed. A text from Andy.

"Maya, want to grab dinner tonight? Molly booked a table at that French place to celebrate our graduation."

I stared at the text. My mind flashed back to last week, when I was lying on a cot in the campus clinic with acute gastroenteritis, an IV drip in my arm.

I had texted him asking if he could bring me a change of clothes. He didn't reply for hours.

"I'm super busy right now. Just go to the pharmacy and get some meds yourself."

While I read that text, I had looked out the clinic window and saw him standing by the library entrance, leaning in close and laughing with Molly.

I opened the keyboard and replied to him.

"No thanks. I already have plans tonight."

He replied almost instantly.

"? Plans with who?"

I didn't answer. I just locked my phone and tossed it onto my bed.

By the time my eel bowl arrived, the sky outside my dorm window had turned completely dark. I sat at my tiny desk, taking slow, deliberate bites.

The rice was warm, the sauce was the perfect balance of sweet and savory, and the edges of the eel were slightly charred.

It had been so long since I just considered myself. For years, every meal was dictated by what he wanted, or making sure the restaurant didn't use anything he was allergic to.

After I finished eating, I grabbed a stack of cardboard boxes and started packing.

Four years' worth of textbooks, legal pads, and reference materials filled several large boxes.

The edges of some pages were completely frayed from being flipped so many times. The margins were covered in different colored highlighters.

This was the physical manifestation of all my exhaustive effort. I used to stupidly believe that as long as I worked hard enough, I could keep up with his genius.

My phone vibrated violently against the desk. Andy was calling. I hit accept.

"Maya, where are you? Didn't I send you the address?"

The background noise was loud. I could clearly hear Mollys bright, sparkling laugh through the receiver.

"I already told you, Im not going."

"What is your problem now?"

His tone immediately spiked with impatient annoyance.

"We literally agreed to this. Molly went out of her way to book the reservation..."

I cut him off completely.

"Andy. When are you going to give me back my bar exam prep binder?"

The line went dead silent for a second.

"What binder?"

"My criminal procedure master outline from junior year. The massive one you took to study."

My voice was entirely flat. "Navy blue leather cover. The bottom right corner is slightly bent."

"...Oh, right. That one."

His tone immediately relaxed, returning to his usual casual dismissal. "I left it in my dorm. I'll bring it to you another day."

"Don't bother. I'll come by tomorrow morning to pick it up myself."

"Fine, then just..."

"Andy! Hurry up! Molly says the dessert here is amazing!"

Someone yelled for him in the background.

"Gotta go."

He hung up without another word. I listened to the dial tone for a second before sealing the final moving box with packing tape.

That navy blue binder was sitting right on top of his desk, the bent corner worn white from use.

Every single page in that binder contained hours of my life, sitting under a desk lamp until 3 AM, stealing glances at his handsome profile, quietly harboring a pathetic, desperate crush.

I didn't need to keep any of it anymore.

The next morning, I walked over to Andy's fraternity house. He wasn't awake. He didn't answer his texts, and his phone went straight to voicemail.

I stood on the porch for twenty minutes before the heavy oak door swung open. Molly walked out.

She was wearing a pale yellow sundress, her makeup absolutely flawless.

"Maya! Are you here looking for Andy?"

"Oh my gosh, he stayed out drinking with us so late last night. I bet he is still completely passed out."

She stepped closer, dropping her voice into a conspiratorial, playful whisper.

"Don't be mad at him, okay? You know how he is. He just values his friends so much."

I looked at her, my face entirely blank. I didn't say a word.

"Oh, right! He left this at the restaurant last night. Could you give it back to him for me?"

She reached into her designer handbag and pulled out a silver cufflink.

It was the exact cufflink I had bought him for his birthday last semester. I had worked double shifts at a coffee shop just to afford it. When I gave it to him, he promised he would wear it to every important event.

Now, it was casually pinched between Mollys manicured fingers, the polished silver smudged with dirt.

"Thanks."

I took it from her. The metal felt ice cold against my palm.

"No problem! Anyway, I have to run to the library. My dad is meeting us to go over our thesis drafts."

Molly flashed me a brilliant, gracious smile and practically skipped down the steps.

I stood frozen on the porch, gripping the silver cufflink so hard the sharp edges dug painfully into my skin.

It took another ten minutes before Andy finally stumbled down the stairs, aggressively rubbing his eyes.

"You've been waiting forever, huh? The binder is upstairs. Give me a sec to go grab it."

He let out a massive yawn. He absolutely reeked of stale whiskey.

"Don't bother." I held out my hand and dropped the cufflink into his palm. "I'm returning this to you."

"As for the binder... I'm not in a rush. Take your time looking for it. When you find it, just leave it with the front desk."

He froze, staring down at the silver cufflink. "Wait, why do you have this?"

"Molly gave it to me."

"She..." Andy frowned deeply, then immediately smoothed his expression. "Whatever. Its nothing."

"Maya, why were you so pissed off last night? Just because we didn't eat dinner together?"

I looked at him.

The morning sun hit his face, highlighting the same sharp, handsome features I had memorized over the last four years.

But right now, all I could see in his eyes was entitled confusion, mixed with the distinct annoyance of someone whose sleep had been interrupted.

"Andy. Over the last four years... what exactly do you think I am to you?"

He looked genuinely thrown off by the question. He paused for a long second before answering. "You're my girlfriend."

"I mean... yeah, you're a little slower on the uptake than the rest of us, but you work incredibly hard. I really appreciate it."

Appreciate it.

The word felt like a sponge soaked in dirty water, slamming heavily into my chest, suffocating and dull.

"Well, thanks."

I turned around and started walking down the driveway.

"Hey! Maya! What about the binder?!"

He shouted after me from the porch, but I didn't turn back.

A week later, I moved out of the dorms.

The studio apartment I rented was a little run-down, but it got incredible natural light.

I carried the heavy boxes of textbooks and legal pads up the stairs, stacking them neatly in the corner of the room.

My phone lit up on the cheap wooden desk. It was a new email.

The sender was Sterling & Vance, one of the most ruthless corporate law firms in the city.

I opened it and read the text carefully. It was an official offer letter for a junior associate position.

It detailed my starting salary and my orientation date for next month.

This was the result of three grueling months of secret interviews and brutal assessments. I hadn't told anyone I was applying.

They had hired me based on a twenty-page legal brief I had submitted as my writing sample.

I had written every single word of that brief entirely on my own. Andy hadn't offered a single piece of advice or touched a single comma.

I closed the email and walked over to the window. The street below was packed with people rushing to work, the sounds of traffic and coffee shop chatter blending into a chaotic rhythm.

My mind drifted back to freshman year. During a brutal outdoor orientation event, I had passed out from heatstroke.

Andy was the one who carried me to the shade of an oak tree and pressed a cold bottle of water into my hands.

With the sun behind him, his forehead slick with sweat, his smile had been so bright it was almost blinding.

After that day, I started clumsily orbiting him.

Whatever concept he didn't understand, I would spend hours in the library researching. Whatever study guides he needed, I would stay up all night compiling.

I truly believed that making myself useful was the only way I could ever be close to him.

My phone buzzed again. Molly had just updated her social media.

It was a massive photo dump from a fancy dinner party.

In every picture, Andy was sitting right beside her, leaning in close, his eyes entirely focused on whatever she was saying.

The final slide was a picture of Molly holding up a glass of champagne, her smile radiant. The caption read:

"So thankful for the best guy ever, Andy! And so proud of us! Here's to crushing our future goals together!"

The comment section was entirely flooded with likes and heart emojis from our classmates.

I swiped out of the app and opened my text thread with Andy.

The last message from me was from the morning on the porch: "Just leave it at the front desk." His reply was: "Got it. I'll find it and give it to you."

Nothing since then.

I typed: "Did you find the binder?"

A few minutes later, he replied: "Looking for it now. My room is a total mess."

Half an hour passed before another text came through.

Another thirty minutes later: "Maya, are you free tonight?"

"Molly wants to take you out to dinner. She says she hasn't seen you in a while and misses you."

I stared at the glowing screen, my fingers moving slowly across the keyboard. "No thanks. Andy, let's break up."

This time, he didn't reply for a very long time.

It wasn't until 11 PM that a voice memo finally popped up.

I tapped play. His voice was slurred with alcohol and thick with aggressive irritation.

"Maya, what the hell is your problem now? Are you throwing a tantrum because I've been too busy to hang out with you?"

"Or is this about Molly again? She is literally like a little sister to me. Are you seriously this insecure?"

I cut the audio off halfway through and typed: "It's not about her. It's about us. We were never on the same level."

"What are you even talking about? Maya, stop trying to pick fights out of nowhere!"

"Are you doing this just because I don't baby you and beg for your attention like other guys do?"

I suddenly felt deeply, overwhelmingly exhausted.

My thumbs hovered over the screen, but ultimately, I just typed four words: "Think whatever you want."

After that, Andy went completely dark. He didn't reach out once until the night before our final thesis defense.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from him, as demanding and entitled as always.

"Defense is tomorrow. Send me the final bullet points. You know the drill."

Looking at his absolute sheer audacity, I actually laughed out loud in my empty apartment.

The thesis defense was the bloodbath of the law school. Molly's father, the senior partners from top firms, and recruiters from Sterling & Vance would all be sitting on the panel. It was framed as an academic review, but everyone knew it was an elite drafting ground.

Andy was absolutely determined to secure the associate slot at Sterling & Vance.

I thought about it for a second, then replied: "Didn't Molly already rewrite your rough draft for you?"

"She is a genius. You definitely don't need my notes anymore."

He replied in less than a second: "Stop acting like a child! Her draft is just a theoretical reference. Your notes have the core logical framework. Send the file right now!"

Seeing his panic, I simply typed: "No. You're on your own this time."

After that text, he called me frantically. I watched the screen light up over and over again, but I didn't answer a single one.

The next morning, less than thirty minutes before he was scheduled to take the podium, he sent me a massive block of panicked texts.

"Maya, I'm sorry! Molly's draft is complete garbage! It makes no sense!"

"The Sterling partners are on the panel today! I cannot bomb this! Please, just send me the final logic framework! I am begging you!"

I read his terrified, desperate messages. Then, I opened my laptop and created a brand-new Word document.

I typed a single sentence dead center on the page, named the file Final Core Logic Framework, and emailed it to him.

The auditorium was packed. I sat quietly in the back row, watching the stage with total detachment.

When it was Andy's turn, he walked up to the podium in a sharp, tailored suit, but his steps were visibly unsteady.

He offered a stiff nod to Molly's father on the panel, shot a nervous glance at Molly in the front row, and cleared his throat.

"Good morning. Today, I will be presenting a completely new logical deconstruction of a highly complex corporate litigation case."

He clicked his presentation remote, took a deep breath, and opened the file I had just emailed him.