In high school, Kay was the most popular girl; she was the kind that people noticed as soon as she entered a room. You’re always surrounded by people, have flawless hair, and exude confidence. Even though she made it quite obvious that she didn’t think much of me, I admired her from a distance. We simply lived in whole separate worlds; we weren’t adversaries or anything. I was the one who kept quiet. The star was her.

Kay moved out of town when we reached eighteen, and that was that. She was never seen by me again. Life went by quickly: I moved away, started over, and eventually got married in a different state. High school turned into one of those periods of your life that you almost ever think about until it appears in your notifications.

My husband said, “Hey, do you know her?” one day as he approached with his phone. I just received a friend request from her. She claims to be a student at your institution.

I froze when I saw the name.

Kay was the one.

My initial response was incredulity. She would be adding my husband, but why? I told him to accept because I was intrigued and a little uncomfortable, not because I was excited. When he did, we both just looked at the TV.

Kay sent a message right away.

Not just a “hi,” either. She immediately started talking about me, asking how I was doing, where I currently resided, and what I was doing. Then, as if she were opening a time capsule and spilling it into the chat, she began sending a barrage of old yearbook and class images. I felt as though I had been thrown back into the school corridor since it was so abrupt and harsh.

The fact that we didn’t talk much in high school made it much stranger. Nine years later, she was telling my husband that she had been searching for me online, even though she had never made an effort to get to know me before. She claimed that after learning that I was married, she looked down my last name and eventually located him, despite her initial inability to locate me.

To be honest, I felt strange about it.

I went on her profile out of curiosity, hoping to see pictures of her travels, a luxurious life, and perhaps a successful career. At first glance, she still resembled Kay, with the same striking face, long blonde hair, beauty, and polish.

However, as I continued to scroll, my mouth literally dropped.

She had four children. She was unmarried. She wasn’t working, according to what she wrote (and later told me). Her life didn’t like the ideal “popular girl” future I had in mind at the time.

When we began communicating directly, she eventually gave an explanation for her outreach. She had returned to our hometown and was attempting to make ends meet while raising her children. She told me that in order to work from home, she wanted to open an online clothes store. She chose to get in touch with me for guidance after learning through common acquaintances that I had a successful internet store.

I was hesitant at first. She used to look right through me in high school, and a part of me still remembered that. There was a part of me that was concerned that she was playing me or that she was trying to get something from me. However, I could tell she was truly overwhelmed and attempting to start again because she seemed remarkably open—humble, even. I therefore made the decision to assist.

And truthfully? Everything changed at that point.

We discovered we had a lot in common as we conversed more. I was no longer the quiet, unseen child, and she was no longer the untouchable “popular girl.” Just two women juggling job, kids, pressure, life, errors, and reinvention. Since our chats now felt natural, as if we had known each other for years, we ended up laughing about how absurd it was that we had never bonded back then.

We were conversing frequently before I realized it. It’s about life, not just business advice. about being a mother. concerning relationships. about feeling condemned. about beginning anew when you have no intention of doing so.

And right now? In fact, we think of each other as friends. She and her children have even been invited to visit me in Los Angeles.

I occasionally reflect on how absurd it is: the girl who used to despise me in high school is now someone I truly care about, and all it took was a single, random friend request to completely change a narrative I believed I already knew.