I told myself she was just putting on a front around classmates.

She changed my contact name from "Bert" to "Bertram Harding." Scrubbed every photo of us off her social media.

I told myself she was worried a teacher might see.

Now I know it was Neal she was worried about.

Worried Neal might not like it.

So she destroyed my early admission recommendation with her own hands.

In the one way I'd never think to question—her cooking, her gentle voice telling me to eat more.

The girl I grew up with, the one who said she'd marry me someday, pushed me into an emergency room for another guy.

My eyes burned dry and raw. I forced myself not to cry.

I looked at Ellie. Squeezed every word out of what was left of my voice:

"Is it true?"

She sat next to Neal. Her expression didn't change at all.

"Does it matter? It wouldn't change anything."

Her voice was flat, without a single ripple, and my words sank like a stone into deep water—didn't even break the surface.

Because she didn't care.

Didn't care about eighteen years of growing up together. Didn't care about the future we could have had.

My throat clamped shut, acid rising in waves.

I bit the inside of my lower lip, using that small pain to hold everything else down.

I stood and bolted out of the room. Behind me, muffled laughter and jeering.

"Bertram! Where are you going? Your childhood sweetheart's got a new man and you can't even say congrats?"

"Wait—is he actually crying?"

"So what if he is? Ellie never liked him anyway. Who's he doing this for?"

I stood on the curb for a long time.

The night wind dried the tears on my face.

My phone buzzed.

Ellie.

Where'd you go? Come back. Don't let people laugh at you.

I stared at those words, and suddenly I was seven again—bawling my eyes out at the kindergarten graduation ceremony while kids pointed and laughed, and she marched straight up to them. "He can cry if he wants to! Mind your own business!"

Back then, she was every bit of courage I had.

Now she was telling me not to let people laugh.

That was just a dare I lost. Come back, I'll explain everything.

A dare.

I gripped my phone. My palm was slick with sweat.

A taxi rolled past. The driver honked twice.

"Getting in or not?"

I didn't move.

All those years kept flooding back.

Ten years old—I had a fever, and she climbed the wall to bring me medicine. Our dog chased her three blocks.

Twelve—I bombed an exam, and she tore up her own ribbon and said, "These things are useless. Next time I'll help you get first place."

Fifteen—I was getting bullied, and she threw herself into the fight, got a chunk of her scalp ripped out, and still looked at me grinning. "Doesn't hurt."

Had she changed?

Or had she never changed, and I just never said what I needed to say?

Had I just been lying to myself the whole time?

"Getting in or not?" The driver called again.

I clenched my jaw, turned, and ran back.

I pushed open the door full of hope.

A basin of cold water came down over my head.

Ice water poured through my hair, blinding me, soaking through every layer of my clothes.

I stood there shaking.

The room exploded with piercing laughter.

"Oh my god, he actually came back!"

"Neal, how did you know that pathetic little puppy would come running back?"

"A bet's a bet! Ellie, hand over your jade luck pendant!"

Neal was leaning against Ellie's side, doubled over laughing.

"Told you he'd come back!"

He crooked a finger at Ellie.

"He's your loyal little dog—you couldn't chase him off if you tried!"

Ellie smirked and reached behind her neck, unclasping a red cord necklace.

A jade luck pendant hung from it.

I had one too.

We'd gotten them together when we were seven, both families visiting the same temple.

One for each of us. We'd worn them since we were kids, never once taken them off.

She'd called them tokens of a promise.

On our wedding day, we'd exchange them.

Now she placed hers in Neal's hand.

He held it up to the light, turning it over, his eyes crinkling into a grin.

"Pretty. Mine now. And so are you!"

I wiped the water off my face and looked at Ellie.

She glanced back at me, the smile dropping from her lips.

"What? I need your permission to give away my own things?"

No explanation. Just a bucket of cold water and a room full of people who wanted to watch me drown.

The girl who'd once fought the world for me was gone.

Someone shouted, "Let's go, let's go! Karaoke's next, I already booked a room!"

The crowd headed for the door.

As Neal passed me, he stuck his foot out.

I pitched forward, my knee cracking against the door frame. The pain tore a sharp breath out of me.

He glanced back with that bright, poisonous smile of his.

"Oh, my bad—didn't even see you down there."

Then he looped his arm through Ellie's and walked out.

She let him pull her along, passing right by me.

She looked down at me once.

It was brief. So brief I couldn't read what was behind it before she turned away.

And followed him out.

I knelt on the cold floor, blood seeping through the skin of my knee, water dripping from my hair and hitting the ground.

Drop after drop. Like all those years I'd poured into her, hitting nothing.

I didn't dare go home.

Looking like this, my dad would worry the second he saw me.

I found a hotel and checked into a room.

The hot water ran for a long time before I finally felt warm again.

When I came out, there were several messages on my phone.

From Ellie.

Your dad called. Wanted to know when you're coming back. I said you were with me. Head home soon.

Where are you? Are you safe?

Then a video call request.

I hesitated, then picked up.

Her face filled the screen, still beautiful, a dimly lit hallway behind her.

She frowned. "You're at a hotel?"

"Yeah."

"Which one?"

"None of your business."

A few seconds of silence. Then:

"Just stay put. I can't be covering for you with your dad."

"Ellie."

I looked at her. "That jade luck pendant—you actually gave it to him?"

She didn't answer.

"You said when we were kids. You said it was a token of a promise. That we'd exchange them on our wedding day."

"…"

"You gave it to Neal. So what about me?"

Her lips parted, but all that came out was:

"It wasn't worth anything."

I laughed.

"Yeah. Not worth anything."

"Neither am I, right?"

"Bertram—"

I hung up.

Half an hour later, the doorbell rang.

A delivery.

A tube of ointment for scrapes, and a bowl of hot porridge.

I sat on the hotel bed. The class group chat kept buzzing.

Videos were going around.

Neal and Ellie, doing a duet at the karaoke lounge.

He was leaning against her shoulder, both of them holding microphones, singing some love song I'd never heard.

The messages piled up underneath:

Omg the way Neal looks at Ellie?? He's literally whipped

Please I am BEGGING you two just kiss once, do it for us

Kiss!! Kiss!! Kiss!!

In the video, Ellie was smiling.

The way she looked at Neal—doting. Soft.

She had never once looked at me that way.

Not in three years, at least.

The video ended with Neal rising on his toes, leaning toward Ellie's face, and then it cut off.

Neal's social media feed had a new post.

A screenshot of his early admission recommendation letter next to a photo of him and Ellie at the karaoke lounge.

The caption read: High school's over. New beginnings. Got the school, got the girl.

Mutual friends had already piled into the comments.

"So jealous! Your girlfriend's gorgeous AND top of the class!"

He'd replied with a blushing emoji.

"Bet SOMEONE's gonna see this and cry so hard he grows a pair of tits lmao"

"Sissy boy, the girls upstairs are talking about YOU!"

I turned off my phone and lay back on the bed.

The ceiling was very white. The light stung my eyes.

I thought about all the years I'd spent chasing that early admission recommendation.

Practice tests until three in the morning. Every weekend given up. More than a dozen notebooks filled with revision notes.

I'd been so close to getting that spot.

So close to going to the same university as her.

She didn't know that when I'd picked my preferences, every single first choice was a school she wanted to attend.

She'd said she wanted to go north. Wanted to see snow.

So I'd put every preference down as a northern school.

And now?

I sat up, turned my phone back on, and logged into the college entrance exam application portal.

One by one, I changed every first choice.

All to the south.

She hated the heat. Said she didn't like the south.

But I liked places where spring came warm and full of flowers.

The south sounded good.

The farther from her, the better.

I hit submit. The screen read: Changes saved successfully.

Then I turned off my phone and drank the bowl of porridge that had gone cold.

It tasted thin. No sugar.

She knew I liked things sweet.

But she hadn't bothered to ask.

The same way she knew I was waiting for her, and never came.

The next day, I went back to school to pick up my records file.

The second I walked through the gate, every pair of eyes on me carried contempt.

"Somebody got a room with some older woman the minute exams were done. Tsk, tsk, tsk."

"Wait, who?"

"The sissy! There's video and everything!"

I stopped walking. Not far ahead, Neal stood at the center of a crowd.

He was holding up his phone, playing a video.

A hotel corridor. Me in soaked clothes, swiping a key card to open a door.

"So young, and already getting wrecked by some cougar…"

Neal grinned, letting the silence do the rest.

Whispers rippled through the crowd, eyes picking me apart.

I walked up and stood in front of him.

"Delete the video."

"Why would I?"

He tilted his head, smiling like he had no idea what the problem was. "You went to the hotel yourself. What's that got to do with me?"

"What gives you the right to spread lies?"

"Am I lying?"

He glanced over at Ellie. "Ellie, tell us. Did he go to a hotel or not?"

Ellie stood off to the side, a records envelope in her hands.

She looked at the video on the phone screen, then at me.

"Ellie."

My voice wouldn't stop shaking. "Tell them. Tell them why I was at that hotel."

She knew everything about last night.

Even if she didn't have feelings for me—all those years had to count for something. She'd at least speak up for me.

Right?

She looked me in the eye and said four words.

"If you're innocent, prove it."

When I heard that, I thought I must have misheard.

"What did you say?"

"You didn't do anything, so what's there to be scared of?"

She looked away, voice flat as nothing,