You slide your hand into Barry’s as the neon lights from the boardwalk glint across the ocean behind you. “It’s weird,” you say softly, “being out here without… everyone else.”

Barry squeezes your hand. “I like it this way. Just us. Feels… normal.”

It feels surreal, like something from a dream you shouldn’t be allowed to have. Only a few months ago, this would have been impossible. He was with Helen. Helen, your best friend since kindergarten—the girl who taught you how to braid hair, who always knew exactly what to say to make you laugh. The Helen you would have done anything for.

Now, Helen’s gone from your life in more ways than one. She doesn’t talk to you anymore. Doesn’t look at you. You can still remember the night Barry and Helen broke up, the shouting, the smell of alcohol and salt on the summer air, and how you stayed quiet beside Barry while Helen stormed off.

You laugh at something Barry says. “You’re ridiculous,” you tease.

He grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Yeah, but you love it.”

Then you see them. Julie and Helen, walking down the pier. Your stomach drops. Julie’s eyes widen, and Helen freezes mid-step, staring at you like you’re a stranger who just stole her world.

Helen’s voice is sharp when she finally speaks. “What are you doing with him?”

Barry stiffens beside you. “Helen… it’s over.”

“Over? We were together for over a year! And you… you?” Helen glares at you. “You… how could you?”

You swallow hard. “Helen, it’s not like that. I—”

“Not like that?” she snaps. “You were my best friend! And now you’re with him? After everything?”

Julie steps forward cautiously. “Helen… maybe calm down—”

“Calm down?” Helen spins on Julie, eyes blazing. “Calm down? She’s the reason everything broke apart! She stayed close to him while I was falling apart!”

You feel Barry squeeze your hand. “Helen… we didn’t plan any of this. You can’t blame her.”

Helen shakes her head. “You don’t get it. You never did. You just… you left me behind, like I was nothing.”

You look away, biting your lip. The memory of last summer rushes back—the headlights, the screaming, the body in the water. You remember being frozen, wanting to confess, wanting to fix everything, but not knowing how. “I never meant for any of this to happen,” you whisper.