"I know I was wrong. Please stop being angry with me?"

Curtis watched my expression carefully.

"Weather's perfect tomorrow. Let's go hiking—I've mapped out the whole route. I promise I'll get you to the best view on that mountain."

I stared at the pages and pages of notes he'd put together, and my resolve cracked.

I'd been dreaming about that mountain for so long. Curtis and I had agreed ages ago that we'd go right after exams, that we'd make it all the way to the summit to see the famous painted clouds.

"Do you want to go? It's fine if you don't, I've got other ideas too..." He smiled and started flipping through more of his plans.

I pressed my hand over his. "You don't have to. Let's go hiking."

He finally seemed to breathe.

After my father died in the line of duty, I'd taken a week off school.

It was Curtis who gave up the only study trip of senior year, left Gretchen behind, and dragged me to a mountaintop to clear my head.

Under all those stars, I couldn't hold it in anymore—tears sliding down before I even opened my mouth:

"My dad used to take me hiking here when I was little. He'd point down at the city and say, 'This is what Daddy spends his whole life protecting.' And I asked him, 'Then who protects me?'"

"He laughed. He said, 'When it's dark and you can't see the road, look up at the stars. Daddy's always right there beside you.'"

I sobbed until I couldn't breathe. "He's such a liar. You can't see the stars every night. Where's my dad? Where did my dad go?"

A gust of wind swept the last wisps of cloud away, and moonlight spilled across the ground.

Curtis pulled me in, arms tight around me, his chin pressed to my hair. "I'll protect you, Immy. If you can't see the stars, the moon's always there."

Maybe he really had remembered our promise all along.

But the next morning, I watched Gretchen ordering Curtis around, loading him up with bag after bag of her things.

She turned back to me with a smug little smile:

"Oh, Immy—I wanted to sketch up on the mountain, and it'd be so boring by myself, so I brought you along too. You don't mind, do you?"

My face went cold. I looked at Curtis, who said nothing.

"And if I do mind, Gretchen? Why do you have to be everywhere?"

Gretchen glared at me.

"Wow, how can you even say that? I felt bad watching you mope around, so I talked Curtis into inviting you. Don't want to come? Fine. He wasn't planning to bring you anyway."

My nails bit into my palms, and the pain shot straight to my heart.

I stared at Curtis, waiting for anything. He gave me nothing. Eventually I had to look away.

"Go ahead, you two. Have fun. From now on, do whatever you want. Just leave me out of it."

Every word came out measured and deliberate: "Especially hiking. I hate hiking more than anything in this world."

Curtis frowned. "Imogen, why are you making this into a thing? Gretchen just happened to pick the same mountain. You've wanted to go forever—stop being stubborn. Any later and we'll miss the clouds."

I let out a cold laugh, swung the backpack I'd stayed up all night packing back onto my shoulders, and turned away.

"I said I'm not going. I'm not going."

By the time I walked away, I'd already missed the way Curtis's face went dark.

Gretchen's photos blanketed my Instagram feed—every time I scrolled, another one appeared, like she was terrified I might look away for even a second.

One was two silhouettes watching the clouds together, pressed so close that Gretchen's head tilted toward Curtis's profile, lips almost grazing his cheek. The intimacy was deliberate and impossible to miss.

Her caption was loaded with smug little emojis:

Childhood sweethearts, together forever! @Curtis Harding

The comments were a parade of congratulations:

Finally together! It's about time! Couple goals, locked in forever!

Told you—no rebound fling can compete with a childhood sweetheart. Curtis Harding can turn all the heads he wants, but my girl Gretta's still got him on a leash.

I screenshotted the post and flung it at Curtis, demanding an explanation.

He told me not to worry. He'd handle it.

"That's just how Gretchen is—she's like a kid, always getting into trouble without thinking. But she really doesn't mean any harm. Trust me, I'll get her to set the record straight."

What I got instead was a brand-new Instagram post from Gretchen.

I want to publicly apologize to Imogen. I shouldn't have gone hiking with Curtis. I shouldn't have clung to him for photos. I shouldn't still need to be around him every second the way I did when we were kids. I'm sorry. I'm just so used to it being just the two of us.

The comments piled on: Who's Imogen? Whoever she is, can she back off? Can't she see these two were literally made for each other? Way to kill the vibe.

Seriously, bullying a sweet, gentle girl like Gretchen? What kind of person does that?

Curtis replied with a hug emoji:

There's a part of my life that can never be replaced. It will always belong to you.

Everyone praised how pure and real their bond was after all these years. And through all of it, Curtis never once stepped forward to acknowledge me. He just let me become the single ugly stain on their beautiful story.

Something inside me broke, and the sharp edges stayed where they landed.

Curtis messaged me:

Gretchen already apologized. Can you just let it go and stop being mad at her?

I was so angry I laughed. I was an only child. Nobody ever taught me how to "be the bigger person."

They only ever taught me that if I believed in something, I should be brave enough to act on it.

Right now was no different.

No.

Curtis, if you keep protecting her like this, we're done.

Nothing from his end for a long time. Then, finally:

I swear it won't happen again.

Things between Curtis and me stiffened after that—not a clean break, but a barb lodged just under the skin.

He still shared bits of his day with me, still invited me out.

After the humiliation on the mountain, I turned him down every time. He never pushed.

With my departure approaching, I decided to find the right moment to say a proper goodbye.

As it happened, he mentioned a new shop that had opened nearby and asked if I wanted to check it out together.

This time, I said yes.

I just never expected it to be a tattoo shop—or that the one greeting us would be Gretchen Winfield.

She shot Curtis a knowing look, all playful eyes and raised brows:

"Oh wow, what are the chances! Imogen, I swear this is totally random—Curtis and I are just destined to keep bumping into each other, what can I do? So don't go around crying that I stole your boyfriend again, okay?"

My expression went ice-cold. I shook Curtis's hand off and turned to leave.

He caught up in a few quick strides:

"What now? She works here part-time—the owner's still deciding whether to keep her on. We're her friends, can't we at least show up and make the place look busier? Is that really too much to ask?"

I didn't turn around. My voice came out flat and hard. "She's your friend, not mine. Why should I have to help her?"

Curtis grabbed my hand, pleading. "Just do it as a favor to me, okay? After this, I promise I won't let her show up in front of you again. Being caught between you two is hard on me too."

I couldn't win against him. In the end, he pulled me back inside.

Gretchen was propped on one hand, watching us walk back in. She curled her lip:

"Imogen's got quite the temper, huh. I don't know how you deal with her. I mean, last time she made me apologize in front of everyone, and I just went and did it—not a peep out of me."

Curtis actually spoke up for her. First time ever. "Enough. Stop talking about her like that."

Gretchen's eyes went red in an instant, all wounded and pitiful, staring straight at him.

He looked away, visibly uncomfortable.

"Imogen, find somewhere to sit. I'll grab drinks."

When he turned to Gretchen, his voice went softer.

"What do you want? My treat."

Gretchen sniffled. "Then I want the large. And extra ice, don't forget."

He tapped her on the head.

"Extra ice? You were doubled over in pain last time, already forgot? I'm getting yours room temperature."

I watched his mouth curve up slightly as Gretchen whined back at him in that spoiled little voice.

He used to be that way with me. Then, bit by bit, it just stopped.

"You're gonna be a police officer, right? You're tough, you don't get sick. Not like Gretta—she's delicate. So just... let me worry less, okay?"

He'd said it like a joke, but I couldn't laugh.

Somehow, because of my dream, Curtis had decided I didn't need looking after.

The second he was gone, Gretchen didn't spare me a glance. She pulled out her phone and started an Instagram Live.

"That's right, if you come to our shop, I'll personally do your tattoo. Any design you want. Trust my skills, okay?"

She puffed out her cheeks in a cutesy pout, and a wave of new viewers flooded in.

"Wow, thank you for the gifts, everyone! But it'd be even better if you came in and got some work done!"

"What? You don't trust my technique? You want to see pictures of my past work?"

Her eyes darted sideways, landing squarely on my arm.

"Oh you guys are so lucky today—my very first client ever? She's right here in the shop. Want to see?"

She didn't register my warning look at all. She was already walking toward me, phone held up in my direction.

"Gretchen, get away from me!"

My reaction only made her look at me like I was being bizarre.

"What's your problem, are you paranoid? I just want to film the tattoo on your arm. Come on—say hi to everyone watching!"

Then, all fake sweetness, she introduced me:

"This client of ours? Her daddy was a police officer, and she's planning to inherit his badge number. So you'd all better watch what you say, okay!"

The chat exploded:

【She wants to be a cop and she has a tattoo? How's she passing the physical? Streamer, is your client pulling strings or what!】

【Show us show us! Who is this VIP! Is she prettier than you?】

Gretchen scoffed.

"Oh stop. Prettier than me? No way. See for yourselves!"

The camera was about to reach my face—my mind blanked and I flinched from the lens before I could think.

But Gretchen wouldn't let go, her acrylic nails hooking into my wrist, pinning me in place, and something in me snapped—I wrenched free and her phone sailed out in an arc, hit the floor screen-first, and shattered into pieces.

"Are you insane?!" Gretchen shrieked, scrambling to pick it up.

She always claimed her family had no money, yet she'd bought the latest model right after the college entrance exams. All those part-time shifts Curtis kept picking up suddenly made a lot more sense.

The screen was wrecked. Gretchen was livid, hand already swinging toward me.

Then the door opened, and Curtis walked in. In the same breath, her hand changed course, and she crumpled into helplessness.

"Curtis, she hit me! That phone was bought with every cent you earned from your part-time jobs!"