My childhood friend called, saying he was trapped in a fire.

He wanted to hear my voice one last time, and I rushed to the scene as fast as I could.

But in that small, blazing spot, there was only a cat.

Stumbling, I got the cat out, but my arms got burned.

A crowd gathered, pointing at me and laughing hysterically.

"She actually went for it?"

"What a simp, risking her life like that!"

Safe and sound, Colin Porter stepped out of the crowd with a grin.

He picked up the cat from my arms and handed it to his crush. "See? I told you the cat would be fine. When have I ever lied to you?"

Turning back to me, he said, "The cat got spooked and ran into the fire. We didn't know what to do, so we called you. Thank you for your help."

The people around us snickered, like they were watching a trained dog.

Later, on my wedding day, my husband carried me to the car.

Colin, dragging his burned, bloody legs, crawled on the ground.

He begged, "I'm hurt, Selena! Come help me!"

...

A phone call almost got me killed in a fire.

I burst out of the flames, clutching a terrified cat.

Outside, beside the geared-up firefighters, there were a bunch of familiar faces. They laughed, calling me the ultimate simp.

Leading the pack was none other than my childhood friend, Colin Porter.

He had called me an hour ago, claiming he was dying in a fire. Now he was unscathed, spotless.

I realized this was just another prank of his.

My strength drained away. The pain was so bad I couldn't even question him.

That was Colin, a prank lover. Ever since I confessed my feelings ten years ago, I'd been dragged into his games.

The first time, he tested my sincerity, making me search for his lost watch in a snowstorm.

Succeeding, I'd earn a chance to pursue him. Unfortunately, I never found it, only ending up hospitalized with frostbite.

He visited and flashed the watch on his wrist, saying I passed the test. I could never forget that smirk on his face.

Years later, he still hadn't gotten tired of these games.

He strode toward me. I thought he'd apologize, but he didn't.

Instead, he carefully took the cat from my arms and trotted back to Joyce Sherman.

His voice was as sweet as syrup. "See? I told you I'd get the cat back. When have I ever lied to you?"

She was touched. "Thank you, Colin. If Queenie got hurt, I'd never forgive myself."

He felt bad, wiping her tears.

The crowd cheered for them and mocked me.

"Prince Charming and Cinderella in real life. The ugly duckling needs to know her place."

"Ha, that's a bit too on-the-nose."

"Is she gonna cry now?"

I'd chased Colin for ten years, but I never even got close to his circle.

They preferred Joyce, who'd been abroad and strung Colin along for a decade. In their minds, I was an outsider ruining their clique.

I walked down the stairs, my arms swollen from the burn, but the pain made everything clearer.

Colin finally noticed my mood, tossing out a half-hearted line. "Thanks, Selena. The cat ran into the fire, and we had no choice but to call you."

His friends erupted in jeers.

"Man, you're so polite. She might ask you to marry her."

"You're done for, Colin. She's gonna cling to you."

Joyce stepped in front of Colin, protective. "Guilt-tripping is not cool. Queenie's my cat. If you've got a problem, take it up with me."

Colin frowned at me. "Don't make this awkward, or we can't even be friends."

I watched his sanctimonious act, then held up my phone to show a payment code. "Could you cover the cat rescue and my medical bills?"

...

Colin froze, then scoffed, "Come on. You're 29 and still so childish? You think this trick will get my attention?"

His friends echoed him one after another.

"Know your distance."

"An ugly duckling can't beat a swan."

"Are you jealous, pulling this stunt to embarrass him?"

Joyce bowed her head, sounding pitiful. "I'll pay you. Does $20,000 work for you? Just don't hassle Colin anymore. He called you here for my sake. If you're mad, take it out on me."

Colin's heart melted at her words, and he glared at me. "Don't you dare bully Joyce in front of me!"

His hand clapped on my injured arm, and I cried out in pain.

He turned a deaf ear, his eyes fixed on Joyce.

She murmured, "Selena is hurt."

Colin glanced at me, sneering, "If she were really hurt, would she be standing here demanding payment?"

My heart sank at his harsh words. He always assumed the worst of me.

I lost my parents at 15.

Colin's mother, Lauren Porter, supported my education. She was kind and often gave me rides to her house for meals.

Colin was always in the car. He was a year older, raised to be polite and warm.

I owed them so much, and I couldn't help falling for him.

But then, I found out Colin's dad, Mark Porter, was cheating with their nanny.

I tossed and turned all night before telling Lauren the next day.

She divorced Mark without hesitation, going abroad and starting a company that thrived.

Colin chose to stay with Mark, and I felt guilty about ruining his family. So, when he mocked me, insulted me, or pranked me, I never fought back.

But I was human. I got tired.

Enduring the pain, I raised my hand to show a glittering ring on my finger. "Don't worry. I'm engaged. I came today to repay your kindness. Now we're even. Pay up for the cat rescue and my medical bills. Dragging it out looks bad."

...

The place fell silent. Nobody expected that turn of events.

I showed them the payment code, insistent.

Joyce glanced at Colin, but he was dazed. She bit her lip and transferred the money.

"Enjoy your happy lives together," I smirked, turning to leave.

Colin grabbed my arm.

"What are you doing?" I yelped, knocking off his hand.

He stared at my ring. "Are you so desperate to get married? Wearing a fake ring? If it's real, I'll be thanking you for finally leaving me alone. You know how annoying you've been? Like a dog that won't go away."

His mockery hit hard. His friends burst into laughter.

Before, I'd squirm with embarrassment.

In a good mood, Colin would smooth things over. In a bad one, he'd insult me even more harshly.

This time, I didn't hold back. "If I'm a dog, what are you? Poop or a cheap bone nobody wants?"

My sarcasm got under his skin, and the laughter around us died down.

Some tried to defuse the tension.

"Why is this getting so serious?"

"It's just a joke. Don't make it a big deal."

"We're friends, right?"

I looked at their faces, disgusted by their hypocrisy.

All this time, I had put up with them for Colin's sake. With that grit, I could've done anything.

"Forget it. I'm not fit to be your friend," I said, continuing to walk away.

Colin chased after me, but Joyce suddenly cried out, crouching down.

The cat in her arms yowled and bolted.

Colin rushed back to help her up. "What's wrong?"

She held up a scratched hand, sobbing, "Queenie has never hurt me before. I could tell something was off when I held her. I don't know what she went through in the fire."

Colin's brain short-circuited, and he yelled at me, "What did you do to Queenie?"

There he came again, acting like her puppet and blaming me for everything. No matter how flimsy her lies were, he never doubted her.

I looked at him like he was an idiot. "What would I do to a cat that I risked my life to save? It ran off from her arms, so why don't you ask what she did?"

I walked away, done with these dumbasses.

Colin grabbed my wrist and yanked me to the ground. Gravel dug into my wounds, and I grunted in pain.

When I struggled to reach my phone, he kicked it away, demanding, "Apologize to Joyce! You stressed out the cat and got her hurt. You owe her an apology."