One of the staff members in my college dorm asked if I wanted to go and grab some In-N-Out with him. I was planning on saying no, but then he told me he invited two girls from another dorm to go as well. I thought, “Why not, what’s the worst that can happen.” Unfortunately for him, he failed to mention at the time that one of the girls he invited was his ex.

Not just any ex, either. This was a recent ex—the kind where emotions were still raw and nobody had really moved on yet. Apparently, he thought he could play it cool and show her that he was chill, living life, making new friends. What he didn’t realize was that his ex, Naila, wasn’t there to reminisce or catch up. She was there because her roommate dragged her into it without telling her who else would be there.

So we all pile into his beat-up Corolla—me, him (Seth), Naila, and her roommate, Shalini. It’s awkward from the start. I’m in the back with Naila, and Seth keeps adjusting the rearview mirror like he’s trying to sneak glances at her. She’s scrolling through her phone like she’d rather be anywhere else. Shalini, clearly unaware of the tension she helped create, is humming to some throwback track playing low on the radio.

When we pull into the In-N-Out parking lot, Seth tries to make a joke about the last time he and Naila ate there, something about how she spilled milkshake on his lap. No one laughs. Especially not Naila. She gives him a sideways look and says, “Yeah, and then you yelled at me in the drive-thru like I did it on purpose.”

You could’ve heard the fries sizzle from the kitchen inside.

I should’ve ducked out right then. But curiosity had its claws in me.

We get our food and find a table outside. It’s chilly, but no one suggests going back to the dorm yet. I think everyone’s waiting to see what’s going to happen.

We start eating. Shalini is trying to steer the conversation toward safe topics—classes, weekend plans, campus events—but Seth keeps circling back to stories that include Naila. At one point, he even says, “Naila used to love animal fries, remember?” She doesn’t even blink.

Finally, she sighs and says, “Why do you keep bringing up the past like it was perfect? It wasn’t.”

He goes quiet for a beat. “Because I miss it.”

I choke a little on my burger.

There’s another silence, and then Shalini looks at me and says, “So… you majoring in psych, right?” Clearly trying to pivot. But it’s too late. The door’s open.

Naila shakes her head, pushing her tray away. “You didn’t miss me when you were out flirting with that girl from your chem lab.”

Seth stammers, “That’s not fair. I wasn’t flirting.”

“I saw the texts, Seth. You told her you were so done with me and that she had ‘better energy.’”

Now, I don’t know these people well, but I do know when a conversation’s going nuclear.

I look at Shalini. She looks at me. Same thought. We need an escape plan.

But then, Naila stands up. “You know what? I’m not doing this. I didn’t come here to rehash our breakup.”

She starts to walk off, but Seth grabs her wrist—not roughly, but enough that it makes me stand.

“Naila, wait. I just… I wanted to show you I’m different now.”

She pulls away. “Then stop dragging me into your ego trips. If you’ve changed, you wouldn’t have brought me here like this.”

Boom.

She walks off into the parking lot. Shalini chases after her. Seth slumps into his chair, hands in his hair.

I sit back down, unsure what to say. “Dude,” I finally mutter, “this was a terrible idea.”

He nods slowly. “I thought maybe… I don’t know. I guess I just wanted closure.”

“Looks more like you just reopened the wound.”

We finish eating in silence. On the drive back, it’s just the two of us. No music. Just headlights and awkwardness.

But that wasn’t the end of the story.

Two weeks later, I’m at the rec center, shooting hoops alone, when I hear someone call my name. It’s Naila. She’s in sweats, holding a water bottle, and giving me a small smile.

“Hey,” she says, “you were… the only one who didn’t make that night weird.”

I laugh. “I tried. Honestly didn’t know what I was walking into.”

She joins me on the court. We shoot around a bit, casually talking. Turns out we had mutual friends and even the same music taste.

I wasn’t trying to flirt. I swear. But the chemistry was there.

We started bumping into each other more. At the campus cafe, in the study lounge, even during a volunteer drive where we got paired to sort donations. Every time, we talked a little longer.

One night, we ended up walking back to our dorms together. It was late, and the campus was quiet.

She stops mid-walk and says, “I was so angry that night, but also… kind of grateful. I needed that push to finally let go.”

I didn’t know what to say. So I said, “Closure’s weird like that. Shows up in ugly packaging.”

We both laughed.

We kept hanging out. Weeks turned into a couple months. And yeah, eventually we started dating.

Seth found out through the grapevine.

He cornered me outside the dorm one evening, arms crossed, looking like he’d been holding in steam for days.

“So you waited two weeks before sliding in?” he asked.

I stayed calm. “I didn’t slide in. We talked. We got along. I didn’t plan it.”

“She’s my ex, man.”

“And she’s not your property.”

He glared at me for a second, then scoffed. “Guess I deserved this.”

“Maybe not this, but you did drag her into a public ambush. That wasn’t cool.”

He didn’t reply. Just walked off. We weren’t friends after that.

Fast-forward six months.

Naila and I are still together. We’re not perfect—we bicker about stupid stuff like who forgot to buy oat milk—but we’re solid.

I learned a lot from her. About patience. About being upfront. About not using people as mirrors to reflect your own growth.

And she told me something one night that stuck with me.

“I think I always wanted someone to just see me. Not try to fix me. Not try to win me back. Just… see me.”

That hit.

Because the truth is, I almost didn’t go that night. If Seth hadn’t mentioned “two girls from another dorm,” I would’ve stayed in, microwaved leftover pasta, and watched reruns.

Funny how a dumb burger run turned into something real.

Also—karma’s weird.

Shalini, the roommate who unknowingly brought Naila into that disaster? Turns out, she started dating Seth a few months after everything blew up. I was shocked when I found out. So was Naila.

We bumped into them once at the library. The vibe was… frosty.

After they left, Naila just said, “Good luck to her.”

Then she smiled, shrugged, and asked if I wanted to grab Thai food. Like it didn’t bother her. Like she’d genuinely moved on.

And maybe that’s the real takeaway. Sometimes you don’t get closure in a deep, satisfying conversation. Sometimes closure is just… living better. Loving better.

Looking back, that night was messy. Cringey. Uncomfortable.

But it was also the moment something shifted for both of us.

I wouldn’t recommend using fast food as a therapy session—but hey, sometimes you need to hit rock-bottom in the parking lot of an In-N-Out to realize what you actually want in life.

Thanks for reading. If this hit home for you, give it a share or a like—maybe someone out there needs to be reminded that growth can come from the weirdest places.