A week later, Ted returned and handed me a blue down jacket, averting his eyes. "Yours got trashed. This is a replacement."

I accepted it without question. It was only much later that I learned its value could have bought every piece of clothing I'd ever owned.

From there, things gradually eased between us. He thawed toward me, and I became his only friend in that small town.

Just before finals, he suddenly asked, "Have you thought about studying abroad?"

I blinked in surprise, and he flushed, his ears turning red. "My mom's planning to send me to Araros after graduation. Want to join?"

I gave a bitter laugh. "My family can't afford to send me overseas."

"Where are you headed, then?"

"Nyxifall, probably. The south is too muggy for me, and Nyxifall's close enough that I can hop on a train and be home in a few hours."

He yanked my hat down over my eyes and fell silent. During the dream schools exercise, I expected him to list Araros, but instead, he matched my choice of Nyxifall.

I was shocked. "What about Araros?"

He slumped over his desk. "Nah, it's overrated. Nyxifall sounds solid."

...

Three days before the exams, he ripped up his slip.

When I probed, he stayed silent. That night, I learned the truth: Pierre Wiley's wife and son had both perished in a car crash, and he was summoning Mamie and Ted back.

Pierre finally paid attention to his one remaining heir, offering legitimacy and inheritance if Ted stayed in Eldonfield.

Ted scoffed at the money, but Mamie slapped him amid tears. "All the suffering I've endured over the years for what? For you! If he marries me, I'll no longer be the mistress, and no one can call you a bastard anymore!"

Under the birches in the summer heat, with cicadas droning loudly, Ted hung his head. "I'm sorry, Nora. Nyxifall is out for me."

His voice was cracked from crying, his eyes rimmed red. After a moment's thought, I tiptoed up and tapped his head. "No sweat. I'll join you in Eldonfield instead."

...

Morning light filtered in, and I opened my eyes, my head pounding from yesterday's flurries.

Still, my friend's birthday beckoned. Gift in hand, I couldn't skip it.

My phone buzzed with a message from Ted: [Forgot these. Swing by tonight.]

Attached was a photo of the Snoopy pajamas.

They were a sneaky couple's set I'd bought—one for him, one for me. Whenever he wore his, it sparked a fleeting illusion of happiness, as if he belonged to me, even if just for a moment. In hindsight, it was pathetically laughable.

I replied: [Toss them. Don't need them anymore.]

There was no response, and I flopped over, covering my eyes with my arm.

Life in Eldonfield had changed Ted profoundly. I learned then that his mom hadn't been the mistress after all. She had been Pierre's first love, bearing Ted out of genuine passion.

But Pierre had abandoned them for a status-matched marriage.

After the marriage, Pierre continued straying, even scheming to produce more heirs.

Mamie endured endless torment and rows, spiraling into severe depression before ultimately jumping to her death. Pierre seemed to reform afterward, but the chasm between the father and son was irreparable.

Ted stopped going home, diving instead into booze, reckless driving, and heavy smoking. He became the stereotypical trust-fund kid, reveling in nightly excesses. Once aloof toward girls, he now navigated relationships with the skill of a seasoned player.

The pure, untainted boy I'd known had faded into an illusion—a ghost from my memories.

...

That night at the party, I met Ted's new girlfriend for the first time.

She was fair-skinned and fresh-faced, wrapped in a camel coat with chestnut curls tucked into a cashmere scarf. Her smiles crinkled her eyes—sweet rather than stunning, but radiating an innocent purity.

Ted had been right; she was leagues apart from his previous girlfriends.

"You're Nora, right?" Audrey Vincent bounced over, clasping my hand with a grin. "Ted talks about you all the time. What a liar, saying you're plain. You're gorgeous!"

As a woman, I could easily detect the veiled hostility in her eyes. Her intuition must have sensed that my history with Ted wasn't ordinary.

Before I could respond, Ted intercepted us, linking his hand with hers. "Meet Audrey, my girlfriend."

The crowd erupted in whoops. "This is the first real girlfriend Ted's ever introduced! She's definitely keeper material."

"Audrey's impressive, snagging him when no one else could."

"When is the wedding? I'll bring a handsome gift!"

Audrey blushed, nestling closer to Ted with a shy smile. The latter shielded her. "Ease up, guys. Don't spook her."

His friends teased back. "Already in protector mode? We're drowning in sweetness here."

We settled into our seats, and out of habit, Ted claimed the spot to my left. I was about to nudge him when Audrey approached.

She pressed her lips together, probing, "Nora, would you mind swapping spots? Since you're single, it's best to keep some distance from a guy who has a girlfriend, right?"

Her blunt request made me frown. Since I had taken that spot first, the one who should move was certainly not me.

But Ted poked me. "Come on. Just humor her a bit."

I glanced at him, then rose and relocated to the opposite side.

The night buzzed with energy, booze flowing freely. Mid-meal, Audrey nudged Ted. "I want some of that salmon."

He responded automatically, "But aren't you allergic to fish?"

My fork halted mid-air as silence stretched. Audrey's expression soured. "No, I'm not."

Ted froze. "Oh, must've mixed it up."

She pressed, "Who is allergic to fish, then?"

He shrugged. "Brain fog. I've had too much to drink."

She shot me a dark look, then deliberately dropped a piece of salmon onto my plate, staring intently. "Try it, Nora. It's good."

An oblivious friend slurred from the side, "Audrey, you don't know, but Nora is allergic to fish."

"Oh, really?" Audrey replied in a flat tone.

After several rounds, everyone was tipsy. One flushed guy declared, "Ted, we all bet you'd stay single until 30. Didn't expect you to find the one so soon."

Another grinned foolishly. "Yeah, we thought you and Nora were so close that you'd end up together."

Audrey's face clouded over, but Ted laughed it off. "Us? Nah, we're just best buds. That's hilarious."

He cackled as if it were the punchline of a great joke. His friends piled on. "Pure platonic vibes all the way, ha!"

I joined in the laughter. "Ted and I? That would be absurd."

Ted came over, slinging an arm around my shoulders. He was plastered, his cheeks rosy and his eyes watery. Tilting his head, he asked, "You don't actually like me, do you?"

I searched his eyes for something, but there was nothing. To him, we were truly just friends.

I forced a grin. "As if."

"Good." He nodded, shaking my shoulder. "We're best pals forever."

Despite all the booze, I'd never felt so clear-headed. I echoed softly, "Best pals."

...

The next morning, I booked a direct flight home.

Before boarding, I took one last peek at my phone. Ted had posted a new update—a photo of him and Audrey, their hands laced together. No captions were needed.

It was an official announcement, flooded with congratulations from their friends. I stared for a moment, then yanked out the SIM card and tossed it into the trash.

Returning home proved smoother than I'd imagined. My parents picked me up at the airport, and with the holidays approaching, the streets were alive with twinkling lights, wreaths, and Bing Crosby crooning White Christmas.

It lacked Eldonfield's glitz, but the lingering scent of fireworks grounded me in a comforting way.

My mom was thrilled since I'd skipped three Christmases at home to spend them with Ted.

But her joy lasted only briefly before she slipped into nagging. "You're almost 30 now. When are you going to settle down? Our neighbor's daughter is a year younger, and her kid's already toddling around, all chubby and adorable. Even my younger coworkers are going on blind dates. Oh, and the guy next door is handsome. I'll introduce you."

She snuck glances at my expression while talking because I'd always hated blind dates.

My eyes had been fixated on Ted, leaving no room for anyone else. After our drunken slip-up blurred our boundaries, my focus had narrowed even further to him alone.

Alice's talk of marriage had always irritated me. But now, as I gazed at the whirling confetti from firecrackers outside the window, exhaustion washed over me.

Settling down didn't sound so bad after all.