Our graduation trip to Aspen was supposed to be a milestone.

Instead, it became a crowded affair for three. "The gondola has a twoforone pass special, get over here!" My boyfriend, Kent, called out to Mallory, his sophomore mentee, already scanning his phone at the turnstile out of sheer habit.

Mallory jogged up, naturally taking the hot chai latte from Kent's hand. They huddled over the trail map, eagerly discussing the best summit viewpoints.

I clutched my singlepassenger ticket. I hated the cold just as much as she did, but somehow, my share was always the one left behind.

By the time my ticket cleared the scanner, they were already swinging high above the pines in a twoseater cabin. I rushed up to meet them at the summit lookout by the wishing tree.

Mallory and Kent were already hanging a red ribbon. Turns out, the summit lovelocks were buyonegetonefree. But there wasn't one for me.

Seeing me arrive, Mallory waved frantically. "Maeve! Hurry up and buy a wooden plaque for yourself.

If you wait any longer, the sharpies will dry out!" She pressed a HotHands hand warmer pack into my chest. "Here, take this one.

Kent and I can just share mine." I stopped in my tracks, quietly watching them. Matching Patagonia hiking poles, matching goggles, matching cashmere scarves.

Even their names freshly carved onto the brass padlock. A strange, cold wave of clarity washed over me.

If they loved the twoforone specials so much, maybe I should just opt out. ... I didn't reach out for the hand warmer. I let her hand hover in the freezing mountain air.

Mallory's smile faltered, her eyes darting uncertainly to the man beside her. "What's wrong?" Kent asked, not looking up from the padlock. "Mal's just trying to be nice, Mae.

Just take it." I looked away, turned on my heel, and began the long descent down the icy wooden stairs. Behind me, Kent's laughing voice carried over the wind. "Hold still, Mal.

A love lock only works if both of us click it together." The sharp "click" of the lock echoed in the crisp mountain air. "There.

Now the wind can't tear us apart." Nobody noticed I had left. My absence didn't even warrant a momentary pause in their laughter.

I walked back to our mountain cabin alone, the freezing wind stinging my face. The altitude sickness made my chest tighten, leaving my face pale and clammy.

I pulled out my phone and dialed my thesis advisor. The line connected. "Professor Ward? I've made a decision.

I want to withdraw my name from the joint MFA fellowship nomination with Kent.

I'll take the individual track instead." There was a long pause on the line. "Are you sure about this, Maeve?

Your portfolio is strong enough to stand alone, but Kent’s grades are borderline.

Without your joint project pulling up his score, he won't even clear the preliminary review." "I'm sure, Professor.

Please split us." I hung up and placed the phone face down on the rustic wooden table.

Eventually, the crunch of snow outside and Mallory’s bright, girlish laughter broke the silence.

Kent stepped through the door first, angling his body to shield Mallory from the draft as he helped her slip off her foggedup goggles. "Frozen solid, aren't you?

I told you we shouldn't have stayed up at the ridge so long," he said, his voice entirely devoid of any real irritation.

Then his eyes found me, curled up in the corner of the sectional sofa.

He quickly shed his Arc'teryx jacket, tossing it over a chair, his brow furrowing as he crouched in front of me.

His warm fingers pressed against my freezing cheek. "Mae, why didn't you wait for us?" His voice had that perfect, raspy touch of exhaustion, like a tired parent scolding a difficult child. "You always do this.

Slipping away without a word. If you got lost or passed out on the trail, I would have lost my mind." I stared at his redtipped ears—the unmistakable flush of a snowball fight.

He squeezed my hand, trying to share his warmth. Slowly, deliberately, I pulled my hand back. Mallory slid over, holding two mugs of hot cocoa she’d grabbed from the lobby.

She kept her head low, her voice small and apologetic. "Maeve, I'm so sorry. I got carried away watching the sunset, and Kent lost track of time because of me.

Please don't be mad at him. If you want to blame anyone, blame me." She set the mugs down.

As she leaned over, a beautiful, handwoven wool wrap draped over her arm brushed against my knee.

It was the exact artisan Aspen poncho Kent had pointed out in a travel brochure a week before we left. He had promised he would buy it for my twentysecond birthday.

Kent saw where my eyes landed. His gaze flickered.

He stood up, stepping subtly in front of Mallory. "I grabbed it from a vendor near the base," he murmured, his voice softening. "Mal was shivering so badly up there, and I thought the pattern suited her.

I let her borrow it." He leaned down, resting his hands gently on my shoulders. "I'll take you down to the village tomorrow and get you an even better one, okay?

My Maeve is always the mature one.

You wouldn't hold a silly poncho against her, right?" I looked at the matching handwarmer sticker peeking from his chest pocket. "Right," I said, a dry, humorless laugh escaping my throat as I brushed his hands off my shoulders.

Behind me, I heard Kent's low, exasperated sigh. "See? She's doing it again." I retreated to the dark bedroom. My head throbbed from the altitude.

I reached toward the nightstand hook to find my headache medication—and to touch the handcarved cherry wood mountain charm Kent had made for me.

He had spent three sleepless nights carving it from a single block of cherry wood. He'd even nicked his thumb, telling me his blood on the wood would keep me safe from harm.

The hook was empty. I marched back out to the main lodge area. Under the warm, amber lights of the lobby, Kent stood by the reception desk.

He was holding the distinct, toothmarked cherry wood charm, carefully threading it onto the zipper of Mallory's backpack. With a crisp "click", the charm settled against her bag.

Mallory caught sight of me standing in the shadows. She immediately shrank behind Kent, clutching the hem of his jacket. "Maeve, Kent said this charm brings good luck.

Would you mind if I kept it?" Kent's hand was still resting on her zipper. I walked straight up to them, grabbed the wooden charm, and yanked it.

The sound of tearing fabric cut through the quiet lobby as the wooden piece ripped free. "Maeve!" Kent snapped, grabbing for my wrist.

I took a step back, dodging his touch. "What is wrong with you?" his voice flared with genuine anger. "Mal's been having terrible nightmares lately.

Is it really that hard to let her borrow it for a couple of days? She's not trying to steal it from you. When we get back to campus, I'll buy you a solid gold one.

Just be reasonable." I squeezed the rough wooden carving into the palm of my hand. "Don't bother." I looked him dead in the eye. "If it's meant to ward off bad luck, it's meant to take the hit for me.

My life is too fragile to absorb someone else's curses." I turned toward the hallway. "Maeve!" I ignored his call, walked into my room, and locked the door behind me.

Outside, I could hear Kent's hushed, exasperated voice. "Just let her be. Don't cry, Mal. She's just being selfish and petty.

I don't know what happened to the girl I used to know." In the middle of the night, the nausea hit.

I leaned over the edge of the bed, dryheaving, my head feeling like it was being split open by an axe. I called Kent. First time, no answer.

Second time, it rang for a full minute before picking up.

The sound of splashing water came through the receiver, followed by Mallory's giggling voice. "Kent, the water temperature is perfect!

Come on in!" Kent's voice was a low, hurried whisper. "Mae? Are you okay?" "Kent..." I choked out, my throat tight. "Maeve, Mal passed out in the outdoor hot spring.

I'm with her in the resort clinic right now getting her some oxygen. I'll be back up in a bit. Just hang tight, okay?" Before I could even speak, the line went dead.

I curled into a ball on the edge of the bed, cold sweat soaking through my shirt. My phone buzzed. Mallory had just posted on her Instagram story.

It was a photo of Kent from a side angle, carefully adjusting the valve of her oxygen tank.

Her caption read: "With him by my side, there's no dark night I can't face." So that was his "resort clinic." I forced myself out of bed and dragged my feet down to the lobby.

The night manager saw me and immediately rushed out from behind the desk. "Hey, you look terrible.

That altitude sickness is no joke—if you keep trying to tough it out, you're going to end up in the ER." He grabbed his car keys and helped me out to his truck.

After a bumpy, agonizing drive down the mountain pass, we reached the urgent care clinic in town. As the IV drip slowly cooled my burning veins, my mind drifted back to junior year.

I remembered living on dry toast and instant ramen for three months straight, scraping together three thousand dollars from my meager parttime jobs.

All of it just to buy him the highend camera lens he had been drooling over. He said he had a dream of being a filmmaker.

I stayed up for consecutive nights editing his portfolio, polishing his proposals line by line. Every single accolade on his resume was built on my sleepless nights.

And now, it was all a joke. At dawn, the kind manager drove me back to the lodge. The moment I stepped through the front doors, Kent rushed toward me. His eyes were bloodshot.

He threw his arms around me, pulling me into a suffocating embrace. "Maeve, oh my god, I am so sorry..." His voice trembled violently as his hands gripped my shoulders. "I got tied down last night, I couldn't leave...

Why didn't you wait for me before leaving? Do you know how frantic I was when I couldn't find you?

I thought I lost you." I pushed him away with every ounce of strength I had left. "Wait for what?

For you to finish soaking in the hot springs before you came to collect my corpse?" Kent froze, his hand hovering near my sleeve. "Maeve, let me explain, last night—" "Kent, the oatmeal is ready." A soft voice cut him off from the stairs.

Mallory stood there, holding a steaming bowl. She glanced at me, then looked softly at Kent. "Last night was so scary. The doctor said I almost went into shock.

I don't know what I would've done if Kent hadn't stayed by my side the entire night." Kent's hand stiffened in midair, and he instinctively stepped back, placing himself slightly in front of Mallory.

A lump of cold, heavy silence settled in my throat. I couldn't say a single word.

I walked past them, went to my room, pulled out my suitcase, and started throwing my clothes inside. That evening, Kent pushed open my door. "There's a bonfire in town tonight.

Everyone’s going. Please, just do this for me. Let's not make things awkward, okay?" His tone was pleading, subdued.

I was halfdragged, halfpersuaded to go with him to the bonfire. Our college club friends were already gathered around the roaring flames, playing Truth or Dare.

After a few rounds, Mallory stood up, holding a halfempty cup of local spiced whiskey.

She swayed slightly, stepping in front of me and raising her cup. "Maeve, I want to toast to you. Please don't be mad at Kent anymore. He's just a good guy with a big heart.

If there's ever an issue between you two, you have to let me know, okay? I don't want anyone thinking I'm a third wheel." The chatter around the fire died instantly.

All eyes landed on the three of us. Kent stood up, running a hand through Mallory's hair with a helpless, fond smile before turning his gaze to me. "Maeve, she’s tipsy.

She doesn't know what she’s saying. You’ve always been the bigger person.

Don't take a kid's words to heart." Looking at the protective, patronizing look in his eyes made my stomach turn all over again.

I suddenly remembered the afternoon I first met Mallory. Six months ago, during club recruitment week, Kent had led her over to me, holding her hand. "Maeve, this is Mal.

She grew up right across the street from me.

I had no idea we'd end up at the same college!" Mallory had smiled sweetly, calling me "sister Maeve." I remembered the jolt of unease I felt seeing their clasped hands back then—an unease I had quickly brushed off, telling myself she was just a childhood friend.

I took the cold cup of whiskey, threw my head back, and downed it in one swallow. The burn hit my eyes, making them water.

I quietly set the empty cup on the wooden picnic table. "I'm not feeling well.

I'm heading back." Kent’s expression shifted, and he reached out to stop me, but Mallory leaned her weight against his shoulder, mumbling, "Kent, does Maeve still hate me...?" As I walked away, Kent’s hushed voice drifted over the crackling wood. "Maeve, do you really have to humiliate people like this?" My steps faltered for a fraction of a second, but I didn't look back.

I walked into the dark, letting the freezing mountain wind dry the wetness on my cheeks. Watching his tragic, whiteknight act, I realized how incredibly exhausting it all was.

The next morning, just as the sky was turning gray, my phone vibrated. It was a bank notification.

Three thousand dollars had been withdrawn from the joint savings account Kent and I shared.

That three thousand dollars was my entire savings from a year of grueling freelance work and tight budgeting.

It was the security deposit and safety net I had planned for our life together after graduation. The final thread of hope snapped.

I pushed open the lodge door and walked out onto the lawn. In the clearing, Kent was patiently teaching Mallory how to operate a drone.

Mallory stood close to him, beaming as she watched the drone ascend, turning to him with a pout. "Thanks, Kent!

With this, my graduation short film is definitely going to win first place!" I walked straight up to him. "Where is the three thousand dollars from our account?" Kent stopped guiding her hands and handed the controller to Mallory. "Maeve, Mallory's camera got ruined by spilled whiskey last night.

That was her only gear for the regional showcase. It was an accident, so I used our emergency fund to get her a drone to make up for it.

I'll work parttime and pay you back later, I promise." Mallory hid behind his shoulder, her eyes welling with tears. "Maeve, I'm just borrowing it.

I'll pay you back as soon as I get my first paycheck." I didn't look at her. I kept my eyes locked on Kent. "With what money, Kent? That was our rent money.

You spent all of it on her gear. What are we supposed to do now?" Kent frowned, opening his mouth to speak, but instead, he grabbed Mallory's arm. "Come on, Mal.

Let's go testfly it deeper in the valley." Kent took Mallory into the backcountry. They went completely off the grid for three whole days.

They missed the final portfolio reviews, and they missed the charter bus back to campus. I rode back to the university alone.

Back at school, I spent four consecutive sleepless nights in the darkroom.

Fighting off waves of dizziness and a deep, aching sorrow, I adjusted the developer chemical ratios over and over. Finally, I printed and developed my submission pieces.

It was the culmination of my life's work.

Professor Ward had told me that if I won the Regional Biennial Breakthrough Award, I would receive a direct placement at the prestigious Manhattan Contemporary Art Center.

The day before submissions were due, Kent and Mallory finally returned. Kent didn't offer a single explanation for their threeday disappearance, nor did he apologize.

Instead, he made a grand announcement on our department's group chat: he was officially transferring the joint MFA fellowship application to his and Mallory's names.

Thirty minutes later, he walked into the studio. "Professor Ward told me you've been pulling allnighters. I brought you some food," he said, placing a takeout box on my desk.

I looked at him. "What is this about the fellowship application?

That nomination was specifically assigned to us by our advisor." He pulled up a chair and sat down casually. "I already submitted the paperwork to the department head.

Mae, with your talent, you don't need a fellowship. You can easily get into any residency on your own. Mal's portfolio is weak, and her family is drowning in debt.

If she doesn't get this graduate funding, she has to go back to her hometown and marry some guy her parents chose. I'm just trying to save her.

Think of it as a test of your strength." His smile was warm, like a gentle spring breeze. "Don't be petty. Think of it as letting your little sister have a head start.

Once we graduate, you and I will settle down anyway." I pointed at the door. "Get out." The smile faded from Kent's face. "Maeve, do you have to be so incredibly cold?

It's just a nomination. Do you really have to hold a grudge over this?" He turned and slammed the door behind him.

The next morning, I walked into the darkroom with my mounting boards. The moment I pushed the door open, my heart stopped.

The prints I had hung up to dry were shredded, slashed with scissors.

The external hard drive containing all my backup raw files was submerged in a tray of corrosive developer fluid.

Panicked and furious, I ran toward Professor Ward's office to report the vandalism.

But before I could even knock on her door, two uniformed sheriff's deputies intercepted me. "Maeve Barlow?

We received a report that you instructed another student to trespass into a restricted national park zone to illegally fly a drone.

We need you to come with us for questioning." Professor Ward stepped out of her office, looking bewildered as she saw me flanked by officers.

Before I could explain, Kent, who had been lingering down the hall, stepped forward and spoke to the deputies. "I'm so sorry, officers.

My girlfriend made a terrible mistake, but I've tried to talk sense into her. Please take her in for the investigation.

I just don't want her causing any more trouble for the university." I stood there, completely paralyzed. The registration deadline was tomorrow.

If I was taken in by the police, I would miss the submission window entirely. He had planned this.

To protect his childhood sweetheart, he was willing to grind my entire future into dust. Now way.