Kids, if you want to know who someone really is, you don't need a lie detector.
You just need:
A cheap board game
Too much alcohol
And at least one friend who doesn't respect boundaries
I had all three.
Rules, Tapes, and Emotional Landmines
It started, like most of our bad ideas, at MacLaren's.
Marshall and Lily were in the booth, half on top of each other, arguing about wedding invitations.
Barney was at the bar, hunting.
Robin was nursing a beer, pretending she wasn't watching Barney work.
Nox and Bryce sat at the end of the booth like the commentary track.
And me?
I was late.
Because I was coming from here:
"Bonjour, Patisserie."
Victoria's bakery.
---
"Okay," she said, handing me a pink box tied with string. "One dozen cupcakes. Six experimental, six safe."
"What's experimental about them?" I asked warily.
"Those," she said, tapping the left side of the box, "are my 'reckless life choices' flavors. Salted caramel whiskey. Chili dark chocolate. And one mystery swirl."
"What's in the mystery?" I asked.
She smiled.
"Courage," she said. "And maybe cardamom. You'll have to live dangerously to find out."
"Or I could die," I said.
"Then you'll die with excellent taste," she replied.
We kissed.
"We still good for tonight?" I asked. "I want you to meet everyone properly this time. No bathroom hiding. No storm. No Barney."
"Barney will be there," she said.
"Yeah," I admitted. "He's like glitter. Once he's in your life, you can't get rid of him. But tonight is about you meeting the… slightly less chaotic members."
She cocked her head.
"Are they ready for me, though?" she asked. "Full immersion with your best friends is a big step. That's like… five relationship points at once."
"We leveled up," I said solemnly. "We unlocked 'Boss Fight: Game Night.'"
"Game night?" she repeated, suspicious. "What kind of game night?"
"The kind where we sit around, eat too much junk food, and yell about rules," I said. "It's… weirdly intimate."
Her eyes shone a little.
"That sounds… nice," she said.
"Yeah?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said. "Most nights, I'm either working or watching other people be happy through bakery windows. Getting to be part of someone else's… regular? That's kind of a dream."
Something warm settled in my chest.
"Then it's a date," I said. "7:30, my place. Cupcakes required. Emotional vulnerability optional."
"Optional?" she said. "Please. You're hosting. Emotional vulnerability is the main course."
She wasn't wrong.
---
At MacLaren's, I slid into the booth with the cupcake box.
"Sorry I'm late," I said. "I brought peace offerings."
Lily gasped.
"Are those Victoria's?" she asked.
"Yep," I said. "She's coming tonight."
"Eeee!" Lily squealed. "I love her already. I love her bakery. I love your face when you come back from your bakery visits."
"You have a bakery face," Nox added. "It's very 'kid who just discovered sugar for the first time.'"
Bryce stole a cupcake.
"You're glowing," she said. "It's adorable. Disgusting, but adorable."
Robin perked up.
"She's coming to game night?" she asked.
"If you're all cool with that," I said.
"Of course," she said quickly. "I want to meet the woman who lured you away from your Lego skyscrapers."
"Hey," I protested.
Nox nudged Bryce.
"Watch this," he murmured.
"Hey, Ted," Robin added, "what are we playing tonight?"
Nox leaned toward her.
"Don't say—"
"Truth or Dare," Barney said, dropping into the remaining seat like he'd been summoned. "Obviously."
Lily groaned.
"We are not playing Truth or Dare," she said. "Last time we did that, Marshall shaved one leg, Barney tried to lick an electrical outlet, and Ted drunkenly declared his love for a jukebox."
"In my defense," I said, "that jukebox understood me."
"We're not doing Truth or Dare," Nox agreed. "It's lazy chaos. We can do better."
Barney rolled his eyes.
"Oh, forgive me," he said. "Do you have a better game? One that will still let me aggressively interrogate everyone's romantic history?"
"Yes," Nox said immediately. "We weaponize a board game."
The table looked at him.
"What?" Marshall asked.
Nox pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket.
"I have been working," he announced, "on something I'm calling…"
He unfolded it dramatically.
"Intervention: The Game."
Lily snorted.
"You made a board game?" she said.
"Of course he did," Bryce said. "He gets bored and gamifies people."
"Look," Nox said, spreading the paper out on the table. It was a rough sketch of a board with spaces, question icons, and event squares labeled THERAPY, SHOTS, and CALL YOUR EX (DON'T).
"The rules are simple," he explained. "Roll dice, move around the board, answer questions when you land on a 'truth' space. If you refuse, you do a dare. If you refuse both, you have to put one embarrassing story about yourself into the 'Vault.' At some point, the Vault gets opened."
"The Vault?" Robin asked.
"Vault = pre-recorded blackmail," Nox clarified. "Old tapes, photos, the incomprehensible poetry you wrote when you were fifteen. Everyone brings one."
Barney's eyes lit up.
"That is so evil," he whispered. "I'm in."
"I am not giving you blackmail material," Lily said.
"You already did," Nox pointed out. "Freshman year—your jazz hands phase."
"Those photos are dead," she said firmly.
"I have backups," he replied.
Marshall pointed at the page.
"What counts as a Vault item?" he asked. "Because I have some tapes from college band practice that are… dangerous."
Bryce's eyebrows went up.
"What kind of dangerous?" she asked. "Like, 'we almost summoned a demon,' or 'you had frosted tips' dangerous?"
"Both," Lily said.
I thought about it.
Tapes.
Embarrassing stories.
There was a memory tickling at the back of my mind—
A VHS tape.
A couch.
A girl with wild eyes and a broken smile.
I shook it off.
"Do we really need to make game night into a psychological warfare session?" I asked.
Nox shrugged.
"We already do that," he said. "I'm just formalizing it."
"I love it," Barney said. "I have so much archival footage of myself being awesome. The world must see."
"That's not what this is for," Bryce said. "You're supposed to bring something actually vulnerable."
"I was born vulnerable," he said. "And then I put on a suit."
"Okay, but if we're doing this," Lily said, "ground rule: nobody gets actually mean. No weaponizing insecurities. No turning it into couples therapy. This is supposed to be fun."
"Fun-ish," Nox corrected.
"I'm in," Robin said. "I live to make you people suffer."
She looked at me.
"Ted?" she asked.
I hesitated.
Victoria.
Game night.
The Vault.
"Yeah," I said finally. "Okay. I'm in. I'll bring… something."
Nox clapped his hands once.
"Beautiful," he said. "Everyone brings one Vault item. Analog only. No deleting things afterward. Tonight, we play God."
"Again," Bryce said. "With rules this time."
---
Later that night, the apartment looked like a cross between a dorm room and an interrogation chamber.
Snacks on the coffee table. Drinks lined up.
In the middle: Nox's freshly drawn game board, now colored in.
In front of each person: a mysterious physical object.
Marshall had a shoebox.
Lily had an envelope.
Barney had a VHS tape labeled "HIGH SCHOOL DO NOT WATCH."
Robin had a small notebook.
Nox had a flash drive in a tiny metal tin.
Bryce had a Polaroid tucked in a folded napkin.
I had… a tape.
Not just any tape.
Her tape.
The one from a long time ago.
From a night where I tried to fix someone with a speech and ended up breaking myself instead.
Kids, one day we'll talk about that night.
About the girl on that tape, and how I tried to be a hero for someone who didn't want saving.
But this isn't that story.
This is the night that girl came back into my life… on a VHS.
---
There was a knock.
I jumped.
"That's her," I said, weirdly nervous.
Lily squeezed my arm.
"Relax," she said. "We're going to be so cool."
Marshall nodded.
"Think of us as… a panel of judges," he said. "But nice ones. Like on British baking shows."
"That's literally her job," Bryce pointed out.
"Exactly," he said. "She'll feel at home."
I opened the door.
Victoria stood there in a navy coat and scarf, holding a container.
"Hi," she said, smiling. "I brought bribery."
"Good," I said. "They're already planning psychological warfare, so we'll need it."
She stepped inside.
Lily was on her in an instant.
"Hi!" she said, too brightly. "I'm Lily. We've sort of met but not really and I love your bakery and your whole vibe and also Ted is disgusting about you."
"Hey," I protested.
"Good disgusting," Lily amended. "Like, 'he smiles at his phone like a teenager' disgusting."
Victoria laughed.
"Nice to meet you… not in a bathroom," she said.
Marshall shook her hand.
"Marshall," he said. "Ted's best friend and future roommate emeritus. If he hurts you, I will set his Legos on fire."
"Fair," she said.
Bryce waved from the couch.
"Bryce," she said. "I'm the one Nox complains to, not about. For now."
Nox lifted his tin.
"I'm Nox," he said. "Ted's little brother. Occasional chaos consultant. If you ever need someone to hide a body, I won't help—but I will design the alibi."
Victoria smiled.
"I'll keep that in mind," she said.
Then she turned to Robin.
They appraised each other for half a second.
Then Robin stepped forward, hand out.
"Robin," she said. "Playbook: news, scotch, occasional good decisions. I'm the one who had to hear about you in the form of 'this one-night bakery girl, but it doesn't matter, it's just a story' for weeks."
Victoria winced.
"Yikes," she said. "Sorry about that."
"Don't be," Robin said. "He was annoying, but in a sweet way. It's nice to put a face to the monologues."
Then, finally, Barney.
He sauntered up, giving her his best devastating smile.
"Barney Stinson," he said. "I'm… the warning label."
She shook his hand.
"Noted," she said. "Do I sign somewhere?"
Lily clapped.
"Great!" she said. "Now that we've all introduced ourselves and no one's burst into flames, let's sit. Snacks. Drinks. Emotional devastation in game form."
We all took our seats.
Victoria settled between me and Lily.
Her knee brushed mine.
"Okay," Nox said, picking up the rules sheet. "Welcome to Intervention: The Game. The goal is not to win. The goal is to survive with your relationships intact."
"Comforting," Victoria murmured.
"On your turn," Nox continued, "you roll the dice, move your piece, and do what the space says. 'Truth' spaces: answer the question. 'Dare' spaces: do the dare or take a shot. 'Vault' spaces: you can either draw a Vault item at random or put one of your own in. When we hit the 'Intervention' space, the Vault opens, and we watch/see/read whatever gets pulled."
Lily raised her hand.
"Yes, the tiny redhead," Nox said.
"Can we veto anything that's too much?" she asked. "Like, if someone starts crying, we stop. That's the rule."
"Agreed," Robin said. "One emotional breakdown per game night max."
"Also," Bryce added, "we're not allowed to weaponize what comes out of the Vault later in fights. Game night confessions stay in game night."
Everyone nodded.
"Yeah," I said. "We keep it safe. We're not monsters."
"Debatable," Barney said. "But fine."
Nox set the tin containing our Vault items in the middle of the board.
"All in favor of ruining your own evening, say 'aye,'" he said.
A chorus of "aye"s.
"And just like that," he said, "we begin."
---
For the first few rounds, it was… fun.
Lily landed on a truth space.
"'What's the most ridiculous thing you've ever done for love?'" Bryce read.
Lily thought.
"Freshman year," she admitted, "I skipped a week of classes to follow a jam band across three states because I thought the bassist and I had a 'connection.'"
"You did," Marshall said. "A fungal one. Your feet were awful when you got back."
Robin landed on a dare, had to do a shot and text her coworker that she believed in Bigfoot.
"He already thinks I'm weird," she shrugged, tossing it back.
Barney landed on "CALL YOUR EX (DON'T)" and we all physically restrained him from actually dialing anyone.
"It's part of the game," he protested.
"Yeah," Nox said, "the part that says in parentheses don't. Learn to read."
Victoria rolled a three, landed on a truth space.
"'What did you want to be when you were a kid?'" Lily read.
"A ballerina," Victoria said easily. "Or a pirate. Either way, I wanted to be on a stage, doing something that made people feel things."
"And now you're a baker," I said.
"Exactly," she said. "Still on a stage. Just… smaller. With more sugar."
My heart did a thing.
Then it was my turn.
I rolled.
Landed on a truth.
"'When was the last time you lied to someone at this table?'" Robin read, grinning.
I looked around.
"Well," I said, "technically, I told Marshall I returned his copy of Star Wars, but it's still in my room. So… last week."
"That's a betrayal," Marshall gasped.
"You've seen it 800 times," I said.
"It's the principle," he replied.
Nox smirked.
"Fun warm-up," he said. "Wait till we hit the Vault."
---
We did not have to wait long.
Three rounds later, Barney landed squarely on the Vault space.
"Ohhhh," he said. "Yes. Yes. Daddy likes this."
"Never say that again," Bryce said.
Nox slid the tin toward him.
"Pick your poison," he said.
Barney swirled the contents dramatically, then pulled out:
The notebook.
Robin's.
Her face flickered.
"You cool?" Nox asked quietly.
She took a breath.
"Yeah," she said. "It's fine. It's just…"
"Just what?" I asked.
"Nothing," she said quickly. "It's from college. It's not a big deal."
She took the notebook back from Barney, flipped it open near the middle, and scanned a page.
Her jaw tightened.
"Okay," she said. "Change of plan. This is… maybe too much for round one."
She looked at me. Then at Victoria. Then at the rest of the table.
"We can skip it," I offered. "Vault rule doesn't say we have to share."
"Yes it does," Barney objected.
"Shut it," Lily snapped.
Robin closed the notebook.
"We'll come back to mine," she said. "I need… another drink first."
"Valid," Bryce said. "Emotional pacing. I approve."
Nox shrugged.
"The Vault is patient," he said. "It can wait."
He tossed the notebook back into the tin.
My turn landed on another simple prompt.
Things stayed light.
Stories. Jokes. One truly horrifying college photo of Marshall with a ponytail that made everyone question Lily's judgment for a solid ten minutes.
But underneath it, something was shifting.
We were circling deeper things.
Stuff that didn't come up at the bar.
Stuff that only surfaced when you were stuck in one place with people who knew all your worst habits.
Then, two hours in, it happened.
Barney hit the Vault again.
He reached in, pulled out…
A VHS tape.
Label: "TED – DO NOT PLAY"
He beamed.
"Oh, this is going to be good," he said.
My stomach lurched.
Victoria looked at me, curious.
"What is it?" she asked.
Lily squinted at the label.
"Wait," she said. "Is that—"
"Nope," I cut in. "No. Absolutely not. That one was not supposed to be in rotation."
Nox frowned.
"Which one is it?" he asked.
"The Natalie one?" Lily guessed.
"No," I said.
"The Laser Tag Incident?" Robin suggested.
"No," I said louder.
"The drunk architecture rant?" Marshall tried.
"God, I wish," I said.
Nox's eyes widened.
"Ohhhh," he said. "Is that her tape?"
Everyone went quiet.
Victoria looked between us.
"Her who?" she asked.
My mouth was dry.
"It's from a long time ago," I said. "An ex. We… made a tape. Not that kind of tape," I added quickly. "A talking tape. A breakup tape. It's… complicated."
Barney was already up, heading for the TV.
"Only one way to find out," he said happily.
"Barney, no," I said, standing.
"It's the game," he said. "Vault rules. You put it in, we watch."
"I didn't put it in," I protested. "I just grabbed the first thing I could find when Nox said 'Vault.' I thought it was an old demo reel."
"So you grabbed a random unlabeled VHS and brought it to emotional Jenga night?" Bryce said. "That's on you, champ."
Victoria spoke up, gently.
"We don't have to watch it," she said. "If it's really… painful."
Everyone looked at each other.
Lily bit her lip.
"We said we wouldn't be cruel," she said. "If this is one of the… big ones…"
"I'm okay," I lied. "Honestly. It's old. I can handle it."
But my heart was pounding.
Part of me wanted to snatch the tape and throw it out the window.
Another part of me—stupid, sentimental, masochistic—wanted to see it.
To remember who I'd been.
To see how far I'd come.
Barney slid the tape into the VCR.
"We're doing this," he said, dropping back onto the chair like he was about to watch a very promising movie.
The TV flickered.
Static.
Then:
My old apartment.
Younger me on screen, hair slightly different, eyes somehow… softer and more panicked at the same time.
"Ted?" Victoria whispered.
"Yeah," I said.
On the tape, my old self sat on the couch, holding a glass of wine, looking at someone off-camera.
"Okay," Tape-Ted said, voice shaking slightly. "We can… we can talk about this."
The camera panned.
And there she was.
A woman with big eyes. Wild hair. A smile that looked a little too bright, like it had been put on by force.
"Hi," she said to the camera. "I'm Natalie. And this is… my humiliation tape, I guess."
My chest clenched.
Robin's eyes flicked to Victoria.
Nox leaned forward, watching me more than the screen.
"Guys," I said quietly, "we can turn it off."
No one moved.
On the TV, Natalie laughed too loudly.
"I just want to know," she said, looking at off-screen me, "what changed. What made you decide this time that I'm not enough."
"Ted," Victoria whispered again.
"I didn't know this was what I brought," I said, throat tight. "If I'd known—"
"I know," she said.
Tape-Ted shifted uncomfortably.
"I told you," he said. "I'm not the same guy anymore. I thought… maybe we could start over. But I realized I'm still in love with the idea of us, not… the real us."
"Wow," Barney murmured. "Even on tape, you're wordy."
Lily elbowed him, hard.
"No commentary," she hissed.
Onscreen, Natalie nodded slowly.
"Right," she said. "So you broke up with me. Again. On my birthday. Again."
Marshall winced.
"Ohhhh," he muttered. "That one."
Tape-Ted closed his eyes.
"I'm so sorry," he said. "I thought… giving you a speech would help."
"Newsflash," Present-Me muttered, "it did not."
Victoria reached for my hand.
I let her take it.
On the TV, the argument escalated.
Old wounds.
Old guilt.
Old patterns.
Watching it felt like watching someone else's car crash and realizing halfway through that your hands were on the wheel the whole time.
Finally, Tape-Ted stood.
"I think we should stop," he said quietly. "This isn't helping."
Natalie stared at the camera.
"If you ever watch this again," she said, "I hope you wince. I hope you feel how small I felt. I hope you remember that you don't get to fix people by leaving them 'for their own good.'"
I flinched.
The screen cut to static.
Silence.
In the living room, no one spoke.
I could feel every set of eyes sliding from the TV to me.
Victoria squeezed my fingers.
"Ted," she said softly.
I took a breath.
"This was a bad idea," I said. "I'm… sorry. That was… heavy."
Nox broke the silence first.
"That," he said carefully, "was… a lot."
"Understatement," Bryce murmured.
Robin looked shaken, but not shocked.
"You never told me it was that bad," she said.
"Because it was," I said. "I was… an idiot. I thought walking away with a monologue made me noble. Really, I was just… scared of staying and doing the hard work."
Lily's face was soft.
"You were younger," she said. "You made a mistake. A big one."
"A big, extremely well-documented one," Barney added.
"Barney," Marshall said.
He held up his hands.
"I'm just saying," he said. "We've all done terrible things in relationships. He just… owns a copy."
Victoria let go of my hand.
My heart lurched.
Then she did something I wasn't expecting.
She scooted closer.
Put her head briefly on my shoulder.
"That version of you sucked," she said gently. "But he's… not who I'm sitting next to."
My throat got tight.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," I said.
"I'm glad I did," she replied. "If we're going to keep doing this—"
She gestured between us.
"—I want to know the parts you're not proud of. Not just the bakery face."
I laughed weakly.
"You sure?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "We've all got tapes. Mine are just… less literal."
Nox cleared his throat.
"Well," he said. "As your resident chaos curator, I feel compelled to say: we can stop here. Call it. No more Vault tonight."
Everyone exhaled.
"Yes," Lily said immediately. "We hit the emotional quota."
"Agreed," Robin said. "I don't need my college diary read aloud after that."
"But—" Barney began.
"Barney," three voices snapped at once.
He held up his hands again.
"Fine," he said. "We'll save my high school tape for another time. Cliffhanger."
Marshall picked up the remote.
"Game night over?" he asked gently.
I looked around.
At my friends.
At Nox and Bryce on the edges.
At Victoria beside me, calm and present and not running for the door.
"Yeah," I said. "I think that's enough game for one night."
He shut off the TV.
The screen went black.
But in my head, kids?
The tape kept rolling.
Not the VHS.
The one where I kept asking: am I still that guy?
Or am I… changing?
And the scariest question:
Will Victoria still want to write new chapters with me now that she's seen one of the worst ones?
That answer?
That came later.
Kids, there's something no one tells you about shame:
It's loud.
It echoes in your head long after everyone else has stopped talking.
And that night?
Mine was practically using a megaphone.
The TV went black.
The room didn't.
Everyone did that thing people do after something heavy drops in a group:
Sudden, intense interest in snacks.
"Oh wow, look, chips," Lily said, grabbing a handful she clearly didn't want.
"Who wants more drinks?" Marshall asked, standing up just to be moving.
Bryce reach for the rule sheet.
"Well," she said, "I hereby declare this game officially over on the grounds of 'we hit something real and everybody's pupils dilated.'"
"Seconded," Robin said.
"Motion carried," Nox added.
Barney leaned back, folding his arms.
"I still say we could handle one more Vault item," he muttered. "Start strong, end strong."
"Barney," Lily said, "I love you, but if you don't shut up I will put you in the Vault."
He mimed zipping his lips.
I just sat there.
Watching my own frozen reflection in the blank TV screen.
Past me, present me, future me — all three standing in the same small, too-bright living room, asking the same question:
Is this who you still are?
Victoria's hand came back to rest on mine.
"Hey," she said quietly.
I looked at her.
The others were giving us space without fully leaving.
Robin and Nox migrated to the kitchen with Bryce and Barney.
Lily tugged Marshall toward their room, clearly on the verge of crying for me and trying not to.
"You want to get some air?" Victoria asked.
"Yeah," I said, my voice a little rough. "Yeah, that sounds good."
We slipped out onto the fire escape.
It was cold.
Quiet.
New York hummed below us, all lit up and indifferent to my emotional disaster.
We stood side by side at the railing.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Because here's the thing, kids:
The silence after you've just seen one of your worst moments replayed on a screen with your current girlfriend watching?
That silence is terrifying.
So of course, I broke it badly.
"Well," I said. "On the bright side, that's officially the worst home movie you'll ever have to sit through with me."
Victoria huffed a small, disbelieving laugh.
"That was… something," she said.
"Yeah," I said. "That's one word."
"I have others," she added. "But I'm trying to pick the right ones."
The wind tugged at her hair.
"Say them," I said. "Whatever they are. I'd… rather hear the real versions."
She took a breath.
"Okay," she said. "I'm… mad at that guy a little."
"Fair," I said.
"I'm sad for her," she added. "For Natalie. For how small she said she felt."
"Me too," I said quietly. "More than you know."
"And I am…" she hesitated, "scared for you, a tiny bit."
That one hurt more than it should've.
"You think I'm still him," I said.
"I think," she replied carefully, "you have a pattern. Or you had one. And patterns don't just vanish because we decide we're over them. They… leak."
I winced.
"Leak," I repeated. "That's… an awful but accurate word."
She turned to face me, one hand still on the railing.
"Here's what I saw on that tape," she said. "You made her feel like a second chance was an obligation instead of a choice. You projected an entire movie onto your relationship and then panicked when reality didn't match. You tried to do the 'right thing' in a way that was more about your image than her heart."
I nodded.
"All… true," I said.
"And here's what I've seen with me," she added. "You showed up at my bakery with coffee instead of speeches. You listened when I said I didn't want to rush things. You respected the 'one night' rule right up until you didn't—"
"In my defense," I cut in, "that rule was dumb."
"—and when you broke it," she continued, "you didn't show up declaring destiny. You showed up asking if we could… see."
She shrugged.
"So no," she said. "I don't think you're still that guy. But I needed to see him. To know what you're scared of. What I'm signing up for."
I swallowed.
"You're still… signing up?" I asked.
She gave me a look like I was a slightly dumb but lovable puppy.
"Of course I am," she said. "Ted, I have my own tapes. I've done my own version of that. Stayed too long. Left too late. Liked the idea of someone more than the actual someone."
"Yeah?" I asked. "You didn't look like the villain on that tape in there."
"Give me a camera and bad timing, I'll get there," she said. "The point isn't that you messed up. It's whether you keep making the same mess."
I breathed out.
"I don't want to," I said.
"Good," she said. "Because I don't plan on starring in your humiliation sequel."
We both laughed quietly.
Wind rattled the metal beneath our feet.
After a moment, she nudged my arm with her shoulder.
"Tell me something," she said.
"Anything," I said.
"When you think about that version of you," she asked, "what are you most afraid of repeating?"
I thought about it.
"Leaving when it gets confusing," I said. "Convincing myself it's 'for the best' when really I'm just… scared of not being good enough."
She watched my face.
"And?" she prompted.
"And using my speeches as shields," I added. "Trying to narrate my way into being the hero instead of actually… sitting in the mess."
She nodded.
"Okay," she said. "Good start."
"Your turn," I said. "Tell me something you don't love about Old You."
She looked out at the city.
"I… settled," she said. "More than once. Took crumbs and told myself it was cake. Stayed with people who liked that I was warm and supportive, but didn't actually see me."
"That sounds…" I searched for a word.
"Lonely," she provided. "It was. So now I'm… pickier. Not about who's perfect. But about who shows up. Who tells the truth even when it makes them look bad."
I smiled, a little crooked.
"You did notice we just watched one of my ugliest truths from three different angles, right?" I said.
"Yeah," she said. "And you didn't run to change the tape. Or scream at Barney. Or pretend it never happened. You winced. You sat there. You held my hand back when I took it."
She bumped my shoulder again.
"That's growth, Mosby," she said. "We like growth."
We stood there a second more.
"So," I said, "you're not breaking up with me over one very unfortunate VHS?"
She laughed.
"If I broke up with you over a tape from your early twenties," she said, "I'd be lying about who I am now, too. I don't want the version of you who never messed up. I want the one who knows he did and is trying to be better."
That… went straight to my heart.
"Okay," I said. "Follow-up question."
"Shoot," she said.
"Do you still… want to stay tonight?" I asked. "Even if it's just… sleeping. Or talking. Or judging my pillowcases."
She considered.
Then shook her head.
My stomach dropped.
"Not because I don't want to," she said quickly. "Because you're… wrung out. I am too. If we try to have that night now, it's going to get tangled up with this, and we'll both wonder if we were trying to fix something or prove something."
I exhaled.
"You're right," I said. "That makes sense."
"Rain check," she said softly. "Again. I'm starting to think the universe wants ours to be… slow."
"Slow is good," I said. "Slow means… real."
She smiled at me.
"Look at you," she said. "Already rewriting your patterns."
---
Inside, the others pretended they hadn't been eavesdropping.
Badly.
Lily and Marshall were just "casually" rearranging snack bowls near the door to the fire escape.
Robin and Bryce were "just getting water" in the kitchen despite already having full glasses.
Nox was sitting on the arm of the couch, arms folded, eyes flicking between the TV and the door like he was watching both screens.
We came back in.
Lily rushed us.
"Hi," she blurted. "Hi. How are we? Are we good? Should I get tissues? Do we need ice cream? I have a secret emergency pint in the freezer behind the peas."
"We're okay," I said. "No ice cream required."
"Yet," Victoria added.
Marshall stepped up, all earnest concern.
"Dude," he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry. I forgot how rough that was for you."
"It's okay," I said. "I'd kind of… shoved it into a mental drawer. Probably good I looked at it again. Like ripping off a Band-Aid."
"More like ripping out stitches," Bryce said. "But I get your point."
Barney sauntered over.
"So," he said, "scale of one to ten, how much do you hate me for pressing play?"
"Somewhere between 'mild annoyance' and 'jazz hands Lily' level," I said.
"Hey," Lily objected.
I sighed.
"Honestly?" I said to Barney. "Part of me is grateful. I wasn't going to show her that on purpose. And she kind of… needed to know."
Barney blinked.
"Oh," he said. "That is… not the reaction I expected."
"Congratulations," Nox said. "You accidentally facilitated emotional growth. How does it feel to be a guidance counselor?"
"Filthy," Barney replied. "I need a shower."
Robin came over last.
"You good?" she asked.
"I will be," I said.
She nodded.
"To be clear," she said, "that version of you did suck."
"I know," I said.
"But current you?" she added. "Handled this… better than I thought he would."
"Is that your way of saying 'proud of you'?" I asked.
"Don't push it," she said.
---
Eventually, people trickled out.
Marshall and Lily yawned their way to bed.
Barney declared he was "emotionally constipated" and left to "have meaningless sex as fiber."
Robin headed home, mumbling something about filing a story and feeding her dogs.
Bryce kissed Nox at the door and left with a promise to "schedule a lighter game night next time, like Twister or organized crime."
That left just me, Nox, and Victoria in the dim living room.
"I should go too," Victoria said softly. "Early bakery morning."
"I'll walk you," I said.
"Nah," she said. "I'm okay. You two probably need a debrief."
She kissed me once, soft and quick.
"Text me when your brain stops running the tape in your head," she murmured.
"Probably sometime in 2034," I said.
She smiled.
"Then text me tomorrow," she replied. "Night, Ted."
"Night," I said. "Thank you. For… staying. In there. And out there."
"Get some sleep," she said.
She slipped out the door.
It closed behind her with a small click that felt bigger than it sounded.
---
Silence.
Then:
"So," Nox said. "That was… fun."
I huffed out something between a laugh and a groan and collapsed onto the couch.
"I am never playing one of your games again," I said.
"Yes you are," he said. "But I will allow a cooling-off period."
He sat in the chair across from me, elbows on his knees.
"You want the post-game analysis?" he asked.
"Do I have a choice?" I asked.
"Not really," he said.
He pointed in the vague direction of the fire escape.
"She didn't flinch," he said. "That's your headline."
"I noticed," I said.
"That matters," he continued. "Old Ted would've found a way to turn that tape into a self-fulfilling prophecy. 'See, I'm terrible, let me use this to push you away before you can hurt me.' New Ted sat there, winced, and said, 'Here, let me tell you exactly how I was an ass.'"
"High bar," I muttered.
"It is," he said. "You cleared it."
I looked at him.
"Be honest," I said. "Did you… put that tape in the Vault on purpose?"
He shook his head.
"Scout's honor," he said. "I honestly thought that was your architecture presentation from senior year. The label smudged."
"Oh," I said.
"Though, for the record," he added, "if I had known it was That Tape, I probably still would've put it in. Just with more warning. And tissues."
I leaned my head back.
"You think she'll… bail?" I asked quietly.
"Victoria?" he said. "No. She's in this. She watched you at your worst and said, 'Cool, where's the rest of the data?' That's not someone who's looking for excuses to run."
I let that sink in.
"You know what I'm more worried about?" he asked.
"What?" I said.
"Germany," he replied.
Ah.
There it was.
"That's… future problem," I said automatically.
He nodded.
"Sure," he said. "But future problems get a vote in present decisions. How long until she leaves?"
"Six months," I said. "Give or take."
"And your plan?" he asked.
I shrugged helplessly.
"Don't know," I admitted. "Part of me thinks we should enjoy what we have and then… let go clean when it's time. No long-distance, no slow bleed."
"And the other part?" he asked.
"Wants to buy a plane ticket and pretend time zones don't exist," I said.
He smiled.
"There's the Mosby," he said.
I sighed.
"I don't want to be That Guy again," I said. "The one who pushes someone into being more than they can be. Or tries to turn a year into 'forever' by sheer will."
"So don't," he said.
"Simple as that, huh?" I said.
"Simple doesn't mean easy," he replied. "Look, man. You're not doomed to repeat your worst tape. You get to make new ones. Better ones. Ones where you mess up differently and fix things quicker."
"Very inspiring," I said dryly. "Put that on a mug."
He chuckled.
"You love her?" he asked suddenly.
My chest understood the question before my brain did.
"I…" I started. Stopped. Tried again. "I'm… falling. Fast."
He nodded.
"Then here's the real choice," he said. "Do you want to protect yourself from the pain of her leaving… or do you want to actually get the full story of what you and her are before that happens?"
I thought about the terrace.
The drumroll.
The bakery.
Her on the fire escape telling me she wanted all my worst parts, not just the cute ones.
"I want the story," I said finally.
"Then stop writing it like a tragedy in advance," he said. "Be in it. Let Germany be the cliffhanger, not the epilogue."
I laughed tiredly.
"When did you get so wise?" I asked.
"I read your tape as a cautionary tale," he said. "Very educational."
I threw a pillow at him.
He caught it easily.
"You'll be okay," he said more softly. "Really. Tonight sucked. But it also… kind of proved you're not the guy on that screen anymore."
I stared at the blank TV.
"I hope you're right," I said.
"I am," he replied. "Because if you were still that guy, Victoria wouldn't be here. And definitely wouldn't still be texting you right now."
My phone buzzed.
I checked it.
Victoria:
> Home safe.
Made emergency brownies.
You did good tonight.
We'll talk tomorrow. Sleep. 💛
My chest loosened a little.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "She's… still here."
Nox stood.
"Come on," he said. "Bed. Before you decide to rewatch the tape alone like a weirdo."
"Too late," I muttered.
He flicked the TV with his fingers.
"You're making new ones now," he said. "Act accordingly."
---
Kids, I did not sleep well that night.
I kept seeing Natalie's face on the screen.
Hearing her voice.
But every time the shame started to drown me, another image shoved its way in:
Victoria on my fire escape.
Not running.
Not judging.
Just… choosing.
Me.
With all my mess and old tapes and bad patterns.
And that's the thing about growth:
It doesn't erase who you were.
It just means that when the old script starts playing, you don't have to follow it.
You can pick up the pen.
Write something different.
And as for what we wrote next?
Well.
Let's just say Game Night was the last time my past came at me on a VHS.
After that, the problems?
They got bigger.
And so did the stakes.
Germany.
Robin.
Nox's company suddenly becoming a bigger part of my life than I expected.
But those are stories for another time.
For now, remember this:
If you're brave enough to let people see your worst chapter…
Sometimes, they'll stay to help you write the next one.