By the time I walked away, I'd already missed the way Curtis's face went dark.
Gretchen's photos blanketed my Instagram feed—every time I scrolled, another one appeared, like she was terrified I might look away for even a second.
One was two silhouettes watching the clouds together, pressed so close that Gretchen's head tilted toward Curtis's profile, lips almost grazing his cheek. The intimacy was deliberate and impossible to miss.
Her caption was loaded with smug little emojis:
Childhood sweethearts, together forever! @Curtis Harding
The comments were a parade of congratulations:
Finally together! It's about time! Couple goals, locked in forever!
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.