You and Tracy Freeland had been inseparable before the world seemed to shift under your feet.

Back then, life was simpler. You shared secrets in the park after school, traded music and clothes, and laughed until your stomachs hurt over things no one else would understand. Tracy was the fire to your careful nature—the reckless, brilliant spark that made every day feel alive. And you? You were the steady anchor she always came back to.

But then Evie arrived.

At first, she seemed harmless. Charming. Funny. But soon, you noticed changes in Tracy. Small at first—rolling her eyes at the things you used to joke about, ignoring the plans you’d made together. Then bigger things: new clothes, new friends, new attitudes that didn’t feel like Tracy at all.

You tried to talk to her. “Tracy… what’s going on?”

She laughed, brushing it off. “I’m fine. Really.”

But you knew better. The Tracy who used to stay up all night whispering secrets to you wasn’t gone. She was buried somewhere beneath layers of someone else’s influence, someone who promised a different kind of popularity, a different kind of attention.

Still, there were moments—the old moments. You’d catch her staring at the mirror, just for a second, as if remembering the girl you knew. Or when she’d laugh at something only the two of you found funny. Those flashes made your heart ache, because you missed her fiercely, but you also held onto hope that she could come back.

One afternoon, after school, you found her alone in the park where you first met.

“Tracy,” you said softly, approaching.

She looked up, eyes wide, guilty, conflicted. For a moment, you saw her again: the friend who used to care, the friend who used to laugh at your silly jokes.

“I… I don’t know how to be me anymore,” she whispered.