Done Hiding as Your Backup Plaything I'm Shining Golden as a Queen - Chapter 126: Chapter 126

I walked back to my dorm alone, staring at the major transfer form on my desk.
My mind kept drifting back to move-in day—just two days that felt like a lifetime ago.
Travis had promised to pick me up from Union Station. I'd waited for hours in that unfamiliar place, watching shuttle after shuttle leave without me, until finally getting his text:
Hey Gabby, something came up. Just grab the campus shuttle. You got this! ?
I made excuses for him—he was probably swamped with something important. Pre-med stuff, maybe an emergency.
But when I finally dragged my suitcases and his carefully chosen gift across campus, drenched in sweat, there he was outside Sterling Hall. Helping some brunette with her designer luggage while she practically draped herself over him, dabbing at his forehead like he'd just run a marathon instead of carrying a fucking duffel bag.
"Oh Travis, you're seriously the best! Picking me up from the airport, helping with registration, now this—I honestly don't know how I could ever pay you back."
The words slipped out before I could stop them: "I'm sure you'll think of something. Maybe with your body."
Her face went nuclear red as she ducked behind Travis.
His face lit up when he spotted me, like a golden retriever who'd been waiting by the door all day.
"Gabby! There you are!"
"Look at my independent girl, handling move-in day all by herself. So proud." That patronizing tone, like he was praising a toddler who'd managed to tie her own shoes.
He reached out to pinch my cheek. I knocked his hand away.
"So this is what was so important? Playing moving service for princess over there?"
He had the nerve to tweak my nose with that insufferable grin. "Aw, someone's jealous again?"
Like I was some predictable little drama queen. He pulled me over to the girl.
"Gabby, meet Camila Jones—the scholarship student I mentor. She doesn't know anyone here, so I'm just helping her settle in. Camila, meet my girlfriend."
Camila gave me this shy, doe-eyed look. "OMG, you're Gabby! Travis talks about you all the time."
Oh, I knew about her alright. She was a constant presence in our phone calls, the source of countless fights between us.
All that hurt crystallized into white-hot rage.
"We're not friends, so don't act like we are. And you're older than me—what's with the buddy-buddy first name basis?"
Instant waterworks. Tears immediately pooled in her eyes as she bit her lip, looking wounded.
Travis's grip on my wrist tightened, his voice dropping to that dangerous tone. "Gabriella Rodriguez. What the fuck is wrong with you? Apologize to her right now."
I yanked my arm free, laughing coldly. "Apologize? Go to hell."
I bolted toward the dorm, tears falling the moment I started unpacking. Each drop landed on his gift—some expensive medical textbook I'd saved months to buy.
My roommates Madison and Ashley were out on the balcony, their voices carrying through the thin walls.
"Jesus, did you see that pathetic display downstairs?" Madison's voice dripped venom. "That brunette bitch throwing herself at the hot pre-med guy?"
"Right? Like, we get it honey, you've never seen a man before." Ashley snorted. "Bet she grew up in some trailer park and thinks acting helpless will bag her a rich boyfriend."
"The secondhand embarrassment is real. And him just eating it up like some white knight savior complex bullshit."
I froze, then crept to the balcony window.
There they were below—Travis holding Camila in his arms while she sobbed into his chest.
Something inside me finally snapped. I was exhausted. Tired of fighting for scraps of his attention.
Maybe it was time to let this die.
When I'd gone to register for classes, I'd asked about switching majors on impulse. The advisor handed me the transfer form with a three-day deadline.
For three days, I waited. Waited for Travis to come find me, to apologize, to fight for us.
He never came.
Instead, he was busy playing college tour guide—taking Camila and her roommates out to dinner at the fancy steakhouse downtown, helping her prep for orientation week. The campus Instagram was flooded with photos of them together, looking like the perfect couple everyone thought they were.
I remembered being eight years old, playing house with Travis in his backyard. His neighbor Mrs. Chen had joked that I was his "little wife in training."
Travis had gotten so serious, grabbing my hand. "She's not in training. Gabby's gonna be my real wife someday. I'm gonna marry her when we grow up."
Everyone always said we were perfect together. Childhood sweethearts. A fairy tale.
Thirteen years of that fairy tale had left my chest aching for three solid days. I could feel something vital slowly tearing away from my heart—the pain shifting from sharp agony to dull numbness.
By the time I'd cornered Travis an hour ago and said "we're done," all that remained was a hollow throb.
He was so fucking sure I was just throwing another tantrum. So confident I'd never actually leave him.
And why wouldn't he be? I'd compromised and apologized and bent myself into pretzels trying to keep us together. When he'd gotten into Brown PLME and said "I'll be waiting for you there," I'd studied until my eyes bled, switching from art history to pre-med against my parents' wishes, just to follow him.
I looked at Instagram one more time—Travis spinning Camila around in the quad, both of them laughing like they didn't have a care in the world.
Without hesitation, I picked up my pen and wrote "Business Administration" in firm, black letters.