Viral Regrets

Ten years after high school graduation, an old photo of me and my first love went viral. In the picture, we’re wearing our blue and white school jackets, fingers locked together, smiling radiantly at the camera. The internet started rooting for us immediately, launching a massive search to find us. They were disappointed to discover we had broken up years ago. He became the youngest hotshot on Wall Street. I was forced to move back to my dying rust-belt hometown, working to pay off debts, just another person drowning in the grind of daily life. Aside from a single high school reunion, our paths were never supposed to cross again. That same night, an anonymous question trended: "How is your high school sweetheart doing now?" A username I knew all too well caught my eye. His answer was a single, cold line: "Knowing she’s miserable makes me feel a whole lot better." 01 I stared at those words for a long time. I was the one who helped Austin set up that account back in the day. I even picked the username. The profile picture was still the one I chose—a photo of our hands showing off the matching promise rings we used to wear. The all-seeing eyes of the internet quickly connected the dots, identifying him and boosting his comment to the top. "Holy shit, the guy from the photo actually showed up." "Damn, dude, aren't you a super successful big shot now? This seems a little petty." "I thought you guys had an amicable breakup? Why do you sound like deadly enemies?" Austin didn't reply again. It was as if he couldn't be bothered to explain a relationship that was dead and buried. I didn't leave a comment, either. I just clutched my phone and quietly gave his answer a 'like.' 02 The photo stayed in the trending topics longer than anyone expected. A media outlet reached out, wanting to do a quick interview with me. Audio only, no face, just three questions. But they offered two thousand dollars. I couldn't afford to say no. "How did you feel when you saw that old photo?" the female host asked gently. "Do you have any regrets?" "No," I said honestly. If that old photo hadn't suddenly gone viral, I hadn't thought about the name Austin Miller in a very long time. The boy I loved as a teenager... No matter how unforgettable it felt then, it's hard to remember forever. Not when I'm working fourteen-hour days, slaving away for a paycheck just to survive. I don't have time for nostalgia. "What was the specific reason for the breakup?" I was silent for a moment. "I chose my future over him." The host paused, then asked instinctively, "Do you regret it?" I shook my head, my voice firm. "I don't." "Last question," the host said, her voice softer now. "You both attended your high school reunion last year." "Did you talk to each other?" My heart stuttered. 03 Austin had come back to town last year. It coincided with our high school’s centennial celebration. He was invited as a guest of honor and casually donated five million dollars. The reunion was organized around that event. Halfway through the dinner, Austin pushed open the door and walked in. The arrival of the newly minted billionaire sent the private dining room into a frenzy. I sat in the corner, feeling like I was on a bed of nails. Without the school jacket, his teenage vibe had mostly faded. He stood there, perfectly poised, a faint smile playing on his lips as his calm gaze swept across everyone in the room. Impossible to read. Austin had other plans that night, so he didn't stay long. He had a few courtesy drinks, never once glancing my way, paid the entire bill, and left. The party broke up early. I found my rusty moped parked outside, planning to log on and deliver a few food orders before calling it a night. It started pouring, a massive downpour. Trying to rush a delivery for a superstore before the deadline, I made a left turn at a yellow light and collided with a luxury car going straight. When I saw the Bentley emblem, my stomach dropped. The door opened. Austin stepped out, holding an umbrella. "How are you driving? This is a green light, you’re turning left, which means you’re totally at fault. Even a scratch on a car this expensive means sending it back to the factory for a full body job, millions in repair costs..." The driver, seeing the scratched paint, was absolutely frantic to shift the blame. A few steps away, Austin was leaning lazily against the car, impeccably dressed, his expression cold. His eyes swept over me from time to time, as emotionless as a stagnant well. I apologized, my voice barely a whisper. I kept my head down, burying my last shred of self-respect beneath the heavy, oversized helmet. "What’s going on?" A pleasant female voice hit my ears. There was actually a third person in the car. A woman jumped out, holding up her dress. Seeing my pathetic, rain-soaked state, she frowned impatiently. "Mr. Miller, forget it. Let's not waste time on this small stuff." Austin didn't say anything. He stood there silently, eyes cast down, impossible to tell what he was thinking. The woman’s voice took on a wheedling tone. "You’re supposed to take me to meet your parents tonight. If this drags on, what about your parents?" There was only the clear sound of the rain. Then, I thought I heard someone let out a short, sharp laugh. Austin looked at me, his tone cold and mocking. "Yeah. What about them?" 04 I had a moment of total dissociation. What about them? What do I do? In the past, I was always the one asking Austin those questions. What do I do if I can’t finish this essay? What if I fail this test? What if the gas station runs out of Slushies? Austin would just laugh, giving my forehead a sharp, ruthless flick with his finger. "Maya, could you even survive a single day without me?" It seemed like I couldn't. Austin and I had met in kindergarten; we had never been apart. Whenever things got tough, my first instinct was always to find him. He’d figure it out for me in the end, anyway. Right up until we broke up. Before that, I had never even tied my own shoes. Austin used to jokingly call himself my "personal manservant." Our classmates teased that I was a charm dangling off Austin’s backpack. He took care of me wherever he went. Austin never denied it. He would just grasp my hand within his, looking down, idly flipping it over and over, playing with my fingers. Sometimes, thinking of something, he would let out a soft sigh. "Maya, if we ever separate." "I’m the one who won't be able to survive." 05 The woman’s name was Sarah. She was Austin’s secretary, and she had been working her tail off at his side for years. Thanks to her, Austin not only didn't make me pay for the damage, but he also had the driver take me to the hospital for a checkup. I let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. I have a younger sister who just started middle school. It's a demanding age, a time that requires a lot of money. My mom’s health isn't good; she's always in and out of the hospital. Over the years, our savings have dwindled to almost nothing. Taking on debt right now would have been the absolute breaking point for us. While I was at the hospital waiting for the exam results. I overheard the driver gossiping on the phone with a friend: "Yeah, Mr. Miller took Secretary Sarah back to his hometown to meet his parents." "They started as colleagues, and soon she might be the Mrs... Ah, well, you gotta admit some people are just born lucky. They both came from nothing, but she’s about to marry into money." "It’s pretty sudden, though. It’s obvious she’s been into Mr. Miller for years, but he’s never had eyes for anyone else because of that 'lost love' of his... Guess he finally accepted her." "Yeah, maybe he finally let go." I got home really late that night. Exhausted, I passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow. And I dreamed. I dreamed of the summer right after high school graduation. The college acceptance letters had come. Mine was for D-State. It was on the opposite coast from the school Austin was attending, separated by thousands of miles. Getting into that specific top-tier university had been our shared goal since the start of senior year. Our SAT scores were only separated by a few points. If nothing unexpected had happened, we should have been going to the same place. "How did this happen, Maya?" Austin’s eyes were blood-red, forcing a faint, painful smile. "This had to be a mistake, right? It doesn't matter. I’ll retake my exams and go to D-State next year. Being a grade behind you is better than being apart for four years." How could it be a mistake? We had checked and double-checked each other's applications, terrified that a wrong choice would pull us apart. I pulled my hand away from his, taking a few steps back. "Stop lying to yourself." My voice was calm, almost cruel in contrast to his obvious agony. "I changed my choice on purpose." In my peripheral vision, I saw his lean frame go rigid, his face turning ghostly white. "Why?" "So I could be away from you." "Austin, I only got close to you so you would help me study. I used you." "The guy I actually like is the president of the math club. He got accepted to D-State, and we're going together. I lied to you until the very end because I was scared you'd get obsessed and try to apply there, too." "Austin, I’m begging you. Don’t retake your exams for me. Just leave me alone." I cast my eyes downward. "I really don’t love you." 06 The interview video was released soon after. Probably because it lacked any real scandalous gossip, it didn't generate nearly as much heat as the old photo. But the two thousand dollars was in my account, feeling like easy money. I fantasized about using it for a full physical checkup, maybe even a little trip. But reality was quick to crash down on me. My sister’s homeroom teacher called. She had gotten into a fight with a classmate at school. When I rushed to the hospital, I realized how serious it was. It was a boy whose eye had been scratched. The teacher said he had been inciting other students to isolate my sister, bullying her with cruel words for weeks. My sister finally snapped and lost her temper, trying to fight back. Although she was the victim, she was the one who initiated the physical violence. The tip of her pencil had scratched the boy's right eyeball. If it wasn't treated perfectly, it could permanently affect his vision. What shocked me even more... Sarah was the boy's older sister. She was clutching her crying brother, her face cold as stone. "This isn't a matter of money." "This is aggravated assault. Your sister is over fourteen; she can be tried as a juvenile." "If our Joey’s eye has permanent damage, we will make sure your sister pays the price." Every word felt like a mountain crushing down on me. My mom was even more terrified, acting hysterical. She cried, physically forcing me to my knees to beg for mercy. Amidst the chaos. I felt my mother’s hands on my shoulders, forcing me down. The moment my knees were about to hit the cold floor. Someone grabbed my arms with a powerful, dominant grip, hauling me back to my feet. 07 Austin had brought in the best eye surgeon in the country. After the surgery, Joey’s eye was mostly fine, and they accepted our compensation package. When everything was finalized, I let out a massive sigh of relief. Austin was out in the hallway, making a phone call. Seeing me approach, he hung up, his face expressionless. "Need something?" The sound of water flowed from the sink as he washed his hands. I had a moment of dissociation. I suddenly remembered a night during senior year. I went to the school washroom, and Austin just happened to be there. Seeing me, he smiled. We were alone. He leaned in and kissed me, quickly and desperately. Ten years have passed. That fleeting sensation of his lips on mine seemed to rush back into my heart at this very moment. I forced a smile and said sincerely, "Thank you." "You don't need to thank me. I didn't do it for you." His eyes were downcast, his tone harsh. "Oh," I replied. My eyes dropped to his hands and noticed something hanging from his phone case. It was a little stuffed cotton rabbit. I blinked. I had made that by hand when we were kids and given it to him as a silly little gift. He used to hang it from his backpack and refused to change it, even when it got dirty. But when we broke up, he had ruthlessly torn it off and thrown it away right in front of my face. The little rabbit had been torn open, its cotton stuffing spilling out. But now. The place that had been torn open was clumsily sewn back together with thick thread. "Did... did you sew that back together?" I raised my eyes to meet his. Austin awkwardly turned his face away. He looked down for a few seconds, then a slow, mocking sneer curled onto his lips. "What answer are you hoping to hear, Maya?"