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.

"Okay," I replied.

"Don't fight it," Alice pressed on. "I know you like that Wiley boy, but... wait, what?"

My eyelashes drooped. "I said okay. Introduce us."

After dinner, my old app rang with a call from Ted. I'd switched to a new number, sharing it with only a couple of close friends, but I still logged into the old one occasionally to tie up loose ends before deleting it.

He sounded casual, as if nothing had happened. "Why is your phone not connecting?"

Before I could answer, he continued, "Anyway, I've got the holiday prep all sorted. Anything else you want? I'll have my assistant grab it."

His words triggered a memory: the year Mamie died. I'd gone home, but on Christmas Eve, I video-called him to wish him happy holidays.

It took ages for him to answer; the screen was dark at first, showing only a fading ember from his cigarette.

"Yeah?" he rasped.

As the screen adjusted to the light, I saw he was alone on the balcony, surrounded by scattered bottles and cigarette butts. Outside, the world was alive with lights and fireworks, but that joy seemed worlds away from him.

He sat there in the shadows, smoking in isolation, and my heart broke for him.

I smiled through it. "Merry Christmas early! Got a gift for me?"

He chuckled, and a transfer notification pinged on my phone. He had just sent me 100 thousand dollars, which blew my mind.

After a long pause, he murmured, "Nora, come back soon. I'm really..."

The wind scattered his words; I couldn't make out if it was "lonely" or "missing you".

Worried about him, I faked a work emergency and booked the next flight back to Eldonfield.

At 3 a.m., the city still pulsed with life, but Ted's place was pitch black. I banged on the door, breathless. "Ted, open up!"

I thought he was asleep, but he answered quickly, staring at me in stunned silence. "Y-You're back?"

I beamed. "I'm here to keep you company for the holidays."

He gaped, and as the awkwardness built, he suddenly pulled me into a crushing hug, as if trying to fuse us.

From then on, I'd always spend the holidays with him before heading home. It became our unspoken ritual. Yet this year, with Audrey by his side, I hadn't expected him to reach out.

I glanced out the window. "I'm already home."

Ted paused, caught off guard. After a moment, he hummed, trying to sound natural, "Oh, makes sense. It's been years since you spent the holidays with your family."

"Yep." I clutched my phone.

Silence stretched across the line, broken faintly by Audrey's voice in the background. "Ted, a little help here. The hot water is acting up."

"Coming," Ted replied.

"Gotta go," I said, my lips tightening.

"Yeah," he said flatly.