The day I filed the complaint, the clerk reviewed my materials and asked: "What is your relationship to the defendant?"

"Friends. Used to be."

"IOU, transfer records, collection attempts, all documented. Everything's in order. Go home and wait for notification."

I walked out of the courthouse with my receipt and stood on the steps for a moment.

Twelve years of friendship, and it had come to a courtroom to sort out.

Three days later, Rachel received a court summons.

That night at ten, my phone exploded.

Thirty-seven missed calls. All from Rachel.

I picked up the thirty-eighth.

"Nora! Have you lost your mind? You're actually suing me?!"

Her voice was a full octave higher than it had been that night she called begging for money.

"Three hundred thousand dollars. It's been a year. You haven't paid back a cent."

"I told you I'd pay you back! Can't you just wait? Did you have to take it this far?!"

"I wasn't waiting when you were vacationing in the Maldives? I wasn't waiting when you called me a cheapskate on Instagram?"

Two seconds of silence. Then she switched gears, softening her voice.

"Nora, I know what I said that day was out of line. But you know me—I run my mouth, but I don't mean it. Can you drop the case? We've been friends for twelve years. Can you really stand to drag me into court?"

"Could you stand to steal my three hundred thousand dollars? Did twelve years of friendship cross your mind then?"

"I didn't steal it! You agreed to it!"

"I agreed to one hundred and fifty thousand. Not thirty hundred thousand."

She hung up.

Five minutes later, text messages started flooding in.

Not from Rachel.

From everyone else.

Megan: "Nora, Rachel says you're suing her—is that true? Can't you two work this out privately? Going to court is so ugly."

Fiona: "Nora, Rachel just called me in tears saying you're going to destroy her credit score. She won't be able to get a credit card, a mortgage, anything. Can't you give her one more chance?"

Someone in our college alumni group: "Heard Nora's suing her own best friend over three hundred thousand? That's cold."

I didn't reply to a single one.

My phone kept buzzing.

Our college class president sent a long message—something about burning bridges, Rachel crying in the group chat saying she couldn't show her face anymore, asking me to show some mercy.

I flipped my phone face-down on the desk.

The next day at lunch, I was eating in the company cafeteria when Janet sat across from me.

"Nora, Rachel called me today. Said you're throwing away a friendship over three hundred thousand dollars. Asked if I could talk some sense into you."

"What did she tell you?"

Janet lowered her voice: "She said you offered to lend her the money. That she didn't take it. And that you told her she didn't have to pay it back."

I set down my fork, opened my phone, pulled up the chat logs and the recording from that night, and slid it across to Janet.

"Read it. Listen to it."

Janet listened for three minutes. Her expression changed.

"She's out there telling people you offered? This is clearly a case of her pressuring you at two in the morning."

"Not just pressuring. She physically took my phone and made the transfers herself."

Janet was quiet for a moment, then handed the phone back.

"Sue her. Someone like that doesn't deserve your sympathy."

That afternoon, I received what would be Rachel's last text to me.

"Nora, mark my words—if you don't drop this case, I'll air every dirty little secret from your college days. Don't think you're so clean."

I typed four words: "See you in court."

Then I deleted her as a contact.