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The invitation arrived on a Tuesday, its gold embossing catching the morning light that streamed through my apartment windows. Ten years. Had it really been that long since we were bright-eyed college students with our whole lives ahead of us? I traced my finger over the elegant script announcing the UCLA reunion gala, feeling a familiar tightness in my chest. Four years ago, I would have thrown it directly into the trash. Two years ago, I might have considered it before declining. But now, as marketing executive Isabella Chen, I had carefully constructed a life where the past couldn't touch me. Or so I told myself. 'You should go,' my assistant had said when I mentioned it offhandedly at the office. 'Show them all how far you've come.' She didn't know what I'd lost.