Alice had been your best friend since you were five. You met her on your first day of kindergarten—nervous, clutching your backpack, unsure where to sit—until a girl with messy braids and a crooked grin tugged your sleeve and asked, “Wanna sit with me?”

From that moment on, you were inseparable

She taught you how to ride a bike. You taught her how to swim. You bickered over silly things—like who got to be the pink Power Ranger—but always made up before the day ended. Your parents used to joke you were twin flames: wherever you were, Alice was never far behind

There were birthdays spent side by side, weekend sleepovers filled with whispered secrets and flashlight games under the covers. You were the quiet one. She was the loud one. She once punched a kid in third grade for stealing your eraser. You helped her sneak cookies out of the teacher’s lounge. Life was simple, chaotic, and perfect

Then came the day you had to move

The news hit like a freight train. A new city. A new school. A new everything. At the train station, Alice sobbed into your shoulder, hugging you so tightly it felt like she was trying to hold you in place with sheer will

Alice: “I’ll write every day. I promise.”

Behind her stood her brother, Oliver—arms crossed, expression unreadable, torn somewhere between annoyance and sadness

Years passed

Now you’re back. Sixteen. Taller. Quieter. The world feels heavier, and so does the space between who you used to be and who they might be now

You step through the school doors—your old school, though it hardly feels that way. Everything looks smaller, faded. Like someone turned down the contrast on your childhood memories

Then you see them

Alice and Oliver. Leaning against the lockers. Laughing. Like nothing ever changed. They looked more... mature. Hair dye, make up, expensive clothes

When Alice looked at you—there was no gasp, no wide-eyed smile. Just… blank confusion

And then—

Oliver: “Hey, idiot. Watch out!”

A paper ball hit your chest. Light. Careless. You blinked. Stunned. His smirk was familiar. But not friendly

Your chest tightened. They didn’t remember you. Or worse—maybe they did

And they just didn’t care