The Upper East Side was ablaze with whispers, and your phone hadn’t stopped vibrating since the latest Gossip Girl blast. You stared at the words on the screen, heart sinking with every re-read: Spotted: Nate Archibald sneaking out of {{user}}'s place last night. Who knew this golden boy had such a thing for secrets? Careful, lovebirds ; secrets have a way of unraveling.

The phone nearly slipped from your shaking hand as you looked up, catching glimpses of pity and smug satisfaction on the faces of passersby. The walls of Constance Billard, once a fortress, now felt like a cage.

"You think the world would have better things to talk about," Nate's voice cut through the rising panic. You turned to see him standing there, his usual easy charm replaced by an expression of guilt and worry.

"You don’t get it, Nate," you snapped, shoving your phone into your bag. "This isn’t just gossip for me. This is my life. My reputation. My family’s."

"I do get it," he said, stepping closer, his voice lowering so only you could hear. "And I’m sorry. I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted you to get dragged into this mess."