I promptly turned around and walked out of Preston's house without looking back.

On the way home, my phone kept buzzing.

It wasn't Preston, but Nicole. Message after message popped up on my screen.

"Fi, I'm sorry. I really just lost my head for a moment. I was just so scared of losing you… Please forgive me, okay?"

I didn't reply.

I pulled up her chat window and blocked her.

When I got home, my parents were in the living room watching TV.

The second my mom, Margaret Banks, saw me, she smiled and walked over.

"You're home! How'd the applications go? Are you going to the same college as Preston?"

I looked at her—at the fine lines at the corners of her eyes, at the streaks of gray near her temples, and at the very obvious anticipation in her eyes.

I opened my mouth. "Mom…"

Just that one word, and all the composure I'd been faking crumbled in an instant. I threw myself into her arms, crying.

"Mom, I can't go to college anymore."

I told them everything—from how Nicole changed my application to how Preston just stood by, watched, and even took pity on her.

By the end of it, I was shaking all over.

One was the person I'd liked—and he'd liked me—for the past six years. The other was my best friend. Together, they'd turned my 12 years of hard work into a joke.

My dad, George Rycroft, was so furious that he wanted to go to the police. Mom wiped her tears away and held him back. "What's the use of calling the police? Even if they arrest her, the application can't be changed…"

She turned to me, her voice trembling.

"Fi, I'll go make some calls right now and ask if there's any way to fix this."

I shook my head. "I've already checked. There's nothing we can do. Once it's submitted, no one can change it."

The room fell silent for a few seconds before it was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing.

I went to open it. Standing outside the door was Preston.

"What are you doing here? We've already broken up."

I tried to shut the door, but Preston hurriedly stepped forward and pressed his hand against the door.

"Fi, don't say stuff like that," he said, a trace of displeasure in his voice. "I don't like hearing it. Also…"

He looked at me.

"You blocked Nicole? She's been crying nonstop."

I was stunned for a second, then a laugh escaped me. And here I thought he had come to apologize. But as it turned out, it was still about Nicole.

"What? Does her crying make your heart ache? Or do you feel bad for her again? What do you want me to sacrifice this time so you can make her feel better?"

Preston's expression darkened.

"Fiona, there's nothing going on between us! You're being too harsh!"

"You two changed my college applications and turned my three years of hard work and my score of 626 into nothing, and I'm the one being harsh? I have even harsher things to say, Preston Nolin. Want to hear them?"

Preston looked at me, disappointment filling his eyes.

"Since when did you become so petty, Fiona? Isn't Nicole your best friend?"

Best friend. Those two words stabbed straight into my heart.

In 10th grade, when Nicole couldn't afford her tuition, I gave her every cent of the scholarship money I'd saved for the whole year.

In 11th grade, her parents came to school and made a scene. They wanted to drag her back home and marry her off for money. I was the one who stood up for her and called the police.

In return, her family held a grudge and hired some thugs to corner me, nearly blinding me in my left eye.

In 12th grade, when she failed her arts entrance exam, I begged my own boyfriend to tutor her.

I treated her like my best friend. But how did she treat me?

I pointed toward the door. "Get out. If you don't, I'll post all about this in the class group chat. I'll let everyone know how Nicole repaid my kindness with betrayal and how the two of you got together and screwed me over!"

Preston's face turned livid. He was about to say something when my parents came over after hearing the commotion.

Dad's tone was polite enough, but the iciness in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Preston, it's getting late. You should head home. And don't come looking for Fi anymore. She needs to study."

With a loud bang, the door slammed shut.

Mom wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

"Fi, if it really doesn't work, you can repeat your senior year. Your father and I will be by your side the whole time."

I shook my head, my voice firm. "Mom, Dad, I'm not repeating a year. I'll apply through waitlist admissions."

I'd made that decision on the way home.

For the longest time, I'd treated Preston as my goal. I'd worked hard for him and applied to a college I didn't actually like because of him.

But after losing him, I finally realized something. Those past few years in high school, those exhausting trips to tutoring sessions, all those pens I'd used until they ran dry, those stacks of practice exams that weighed almost as much as me—I had to do right by myself first.

I blocked and deleted Preston's contact as well, making sure he'd never bother me again.

On the day the admission results were announced, all my applications had indeed been rejected. But I didn't have time to feel sad.

I looked through every college still accepting waitlist applications, comparing them carefully. In the end, I narrowed it down to three.

Every one of them was over 1,200 miles from home and at least five hours by plane.

Mom looked at the distance, and she started tearing up again.

"Fi, that's so far away… What am I going to do when I miss you?"

I hugged and comforted her. "Mom, I'll come back during breaks. We can also call and video chat regularly."

Out of the three colleges, I picked a high-ranking college in Sorlington, majoring in law.

The second I submitted the application, it felt like something inside me had finally lifted. I collapsed onto my bed and started scrolling through my phone, trying to distract myself from the strange feeling in my chest.

Suddenly, a post from one of Preston's buddies caught my eye. The caption read, "Congrats to Preston for getting into Murlowton U! First-choice admission secured!"

The photo was the usual—Preston sitting in the middle of the group, looking every bit the star of the show. The only thing that changed was the person beside him. It used to be me, but now, it was Nicole. She was sitting there with her head lowered shyly.

I didn't feel anything. It was like a shattered mirror—once it was broken, you could only throw it away. There was no way to piece it back together.

I was just about to scroll past the post when my finger accidentally hit the "like" button.

The next second, a message popped up on my screen. It was Preston's buddy, but just one glance at it, and I knew it was from Preston.

"Don't misunderstand. We're just having dinner together. Unblock me. I already found a school for you to repeat your senior year. You can go with Nicole."

How ridiculous.

Even now, he still thought I'd repeat a year and follow him to Murlowton University.

I didn't reply. I just blocked his friend as well. I didn't want anything to do with Preston in my life ever again.

For the next two days, I barely slept. On the third day, I logged into the admissions website again. Three big, bold words were displayed on screen.

"Waitlist Admission Successful."

I realized even my hands were shaking. The weight on my chest finally lifted. I could go to college now. I didn't need to repeat another year with a 626 score hanging over my head.

Mom pulled me into a hug and started crying again.

Dad finished a whole cigarette before saying, "I'm texting all of our relatives right now! We're having a going-to-college dinner!"

…

The dinner was held at a restaurant in a hotel near our house.

When we arrived, I realized Preston was having a similar celebratory dinner there as well—same day, same restaurant.

His parents, Michael Nolin and Leanne Richmond, happened to be downstairs greeting guests. Since Michael had business dealings with Dad, he immediately came over enthusiastically.

"George, you guys are having dinner here, too? What a coincidence!"

Then he turned to me with a grin. "Fi, why haven't you come over to see Preston lately?"

Before I could answer, a bright female voice suddenly cut in.

"Fi, you actually came!"

Nicole rushed out of the lobby and grabbed my hand. "I thought you wouldn't come. You—"

But before she could finish, I yanked my hand away.

She immediately looked as if she'd been wronged, her eyes reddening. "Fi, you still haven't forgiven us? Preston and I already apologized to you. Can't we just work hard together for the next year?"

Mom stepped directly in front of me.

"Nicole, for the past three years, my daughter has paid your tuition and helped bail you out of trouble. I've never said a word about any of that. But after what you did, even if Fi doesn't hold it against you, her father and I won't let someone as ungrateful as you stay in her life."

Nicole's face turned deathly pale.

Michael and Leanne stood to the side, exchanging confused glances.

Just then, Preston walked over to us.

"Mr. and Mrs. Rycroft, you're the adults here. Don't you think it's too much to talk to a young girl like that?"

I was just about to leave, but hearing him drag my parents into it, I stopped in my tracks. I stepped in front of them and turned to Preston.

"Too much? Preston, when you helped Nicole change my applications and left me with no college to go to despite my decent grades, was that not too much?"

Preston frowned. "That's already in the past. Can you stop—"

"I don't think it's in the past," I interrupted. "And I also don't think there's anything left for us to talk about."

I took a deep breath, grabbed my parents' arms, and said, "Mom, Dad, let's go."

But Preston suddenly reached out and grabbed my wrist.

"That's enough, Fiona. You've been throwing a tantrum for days. Aren't you done yet?" he asked, his voice edged with impatience.

"You're not preparing study materials, and you're not going back to redo your senior year? Do you still want to go to Murlowton U with me or not?"

As he spoke, he started digging through his backpack.

"I got the study notes from this year's top scorer. You—"

"Preston Nolin, I think you've misunderstood something," I said, cutting him off without a second thought and staring him dead in the eye.

"I'm not repeating my senior year, nor am I going to go to Murlowton U with you. I've already been accepted by another college in Sorlington. That's what we're celebrating today."

The stack of study materials slipped from Preston's hands and scattered across the floor.