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!"

I laughed—the angry kind, where nothing's funny. Curtis had never once bought me anything that expensive. Whenever he'd hinted at some surprise, I'd always told him not to spend the money.

He was frowning at me now, as if I were the one who'd made this into a mess again.

When I stayed silent, Gretchen jumped right in:

"I just asked her to hop on my Instagram Live for a second, and she smashed my phone! Didn't even say a word first! Curtis, please just break up with her, I can't do this anymore!"

I kept my head down, rubbing the red welts where she'd pinched my wrist, and caught Curtis walking toward me in my periphery. When he spoke, his voice was a cold I'd never heard from him.

"Imogen, is what Gretchen said true? Because if it is, you're apologizing to her. Today."

I looked up. There wasn't a trace of concern in his eyes—just deep exhaustion and irritation.

"And if I don't?"

He was quiet for a moment, like he was steeling himself.

"Then it's like Gretchen said. We're done."

I stared at him, my eyes so dry they burned, tears spilling out from the sheer strain of it.

"Breaking up. Because I won't apologize to Gretchen Winfield?"

We were locked there, neither of us moving. In the end, I forced a smile onto my face just so I wouldn't look as wrecked as I felt.

"Fine. Then let's break up."

"Curtis—I told you my father was a narcotics officer. His family can never be seen. Not on camera, not in public, not ever. Her Instagram Live had that many people watching—if someone came looking for payback, did you even think about what happens to us?"

The redness at the corners of my eyes was impossible to hide.

"Applying to the police academy together—that was a lie too, wasn't it? You backed out, and you dragged my future down with you!"

"You never cared about me, Curtis. Not once."

He went rigid, then grabbed for me.

I shoved his hand off hard and left. I didn't come back.

Another year, another enrollment season.

It wasn't until the very last day to check in that Curtis finally hauled Gretchen to the front of my building.

"I saw Imogen apply to the same school as us with my own eyes. If it weren't for you, I'd have already lost her."

He let out a breath.

"Whatever happened, you were in the wrong. I've already asked around. No student named Imogen Fox has checked in yet, and today's the deadline. She'll show up. When she does, you apologize properly. She's soft-hearted. She'll forgive you, and this whole thing will be over."

Gretchen nodded, looking aggrieved.

A neighbor was passing by on her way back from the market. She glanced at Curtis, half-recognizing him.

"Young man, are you here for Imogen?"

His eyes lit up, and he was just about to ask when she continued.

"The whole family moved overseas a few days ago. Very sudden. None of us saw it coming!"

Curtis stood rooted to the spot. It was a long time before he heard his own voice.

"Moved... overseas?"