Offline Mode

I was basically a professional social media stalker at this point. My thumb had developed muscle memory from all the digital spying—three taps, double tap, hold. Maya's Instagram stories were my nightly ritual. We hadn't spoken since the fight at Chloe's party, but that didn't stop me from witnessing her life in carefully curated squares. The irony wasn't lost on me: I was the one who'd blocked her number, yet here I was, refreshing her profile like my life depended on it. My iPhone's battery was permanently drained by 2 PM, but whatever. Sleep was for people who didn't have ex-best friends to obsessively monitor.

I'd fallen into full zombie mode that week—shuffle-walking through school corridors, half-dead from three nights of staying up until 3 AM just watching Maya live her best life without me. My mom kept asking if I was feeling okay. I wasn't. The worst part? She looked genuinely happy in those photos. New friends, new inside jokes, new everything. Meanwhile, I was stuck replaying our last conversation on loop, wondering where exactly things had gone wrong.

The breakthrough happened in the cafeteria. I was mid-scroll through Maya's story (she was at some beach I'd never heard of) when Sarah plopped down across from me and slammed a bright orange onto the table. 'You look like you need Vitamin C,' she said. 'Also, you're literally doing it again.' I stared at the orange like it was an alien artifact. 'Doing what?' 'Being a creepy ghost person,' Sarah said, not unkindly. 'Maya moved on, okay? You can too.' She peeled the orange, the citrus spray hitting my nose, sudden and sharp and real. Something about that smell—earthy, imperfect, messy—snapped me out of it. Social media was all polished edges and filters. This was sticky fingers and unexpected sourness. Life didn't happen in squares. It happened in cafeterias with accidental friends and fruit explosions. I put my phone face-down on the table. 'You're right,' I said. 'So,' Sarah grinned, 'wanna hear about the time I accidentally set off the fire alarm during cooking class?' I laughed—actually laughed—for the first time in weeks. 'Only if it involves more oranges.'