Part 2You Confessed to the Courier

The weeks that followed were an extravagant whirlwind.

Chase’s pursuit never paused for breath. One day it was VIP box seats to sold-out arena concerts; the next, reservations at exclusive, impossible-to-book rooftop restaurants.

He drove Carrie out to scenic coastal lookouts in his sleek silver sports car and took her to private movie screenings. Across social circles, the legend grew: Chase, the untouchable prep-school golden boy, had harbored a secret, burning crush on Carrie for years and had finally claimed his prize upon graduation.

Countless girls envied her good fortune.

And when the floating lines of text realized I had no intention of interfering, they gradually thinned, eventually dissolving into nothingness.

One muggy afternoon, Carrie’s mother came to my door.

"June, honey, I hope I'm not bothering you," she said softly, holding out an insulated thermos with a tentative, slightly apologetic smile. "I made some iced sweet bean soup. It’s so hot outside; thought this might cool you down."

"Thank you, Mrs. Clark," I said, taking the thermos.

She rubbed her weathered hands together, her gaze scanning my face, hesitant, caught on words she didn't know how to frame.

"Did you want to ask me something?"

A breath of relief slipped past her lips. "June... Carrie tells me there’s a boy from your school courting her. Pretty aggressively, too."

I nodded. "Yes. He confessed to her in front of everyone on graduation day."

A ripple of worry creased her forehead. "I've seen the things he sends over. Designer clothes, expensive jewelry... It makes my stomach knot up. I don't feel easy about it. Do you know him well? What kind of boy is he really?"

I paused for a long second, then shook my head.

"I don't know him personally. But everyone knows his reputation."

"He comes from old money. His parents run major investment firms. He’s brilliant, too—valedictorian, top test scores in the state. He'll have his pick of Ivy League schools."

Her eyes flickered with fleeting pride, but the shadow returned twice as heavy. "A boy that wealthy and accomplished... he must have a trail of girls behind him. Could he really be serious about my Carrie?"

"Serious."

A flash of my previous life sliced through my memory.

The older, untouchable Chase, drowning in business triumphs, had never lacked beautiful women throwing themselves at his feet. Yet his expression had always remained carved from granite, frost coating every word as he shut everyone out. He never spared those socialites a second glance.

He had reserved all of his ruthless passion and unwavering devotion for torturing me—his twisted way of maintaining a lifelong monument to Carrie’s memory.

"In all three years of high school, he never dated anyone," I told her, my voice level and quiet.

"Devoted... that's good. That's very good," Carrie’s mother muttered, the knot between her brows finally loosening into a genuine, tired smile. "As long as he’s decent and treats Carrie with respect, that’s all that matters."

She sighed, a weight visibly lifting from her shoulders. "Carrie really seems taken with him. She sits on her bed staring at her phone, smiling like a fool."

She paused, as if suddenly remembering something. "What about you, June? How did your applications go? Have you thought about where you're heading? You and Carrie should pick schools in the same city. That way you two can keep looking out for each other."

I shook my head, my eyes drifting toward the wide, open sky beyond the apartment window.

"I won't be staying in the country for college. I'm going abroad."

She blinked, momentarily startled. "Abroad... Well, that's wonderful. Go see the world."