“Grind Now, Shine Later?” Nah, Kyle. Grind Always. Shine Forever.”
I never thought I’d have to learn the hard way that even your best friend can stab you in the back with a smile. But that’s exactly what Kyle did.
I loaned Kyle $6,400 when he said he was drowning. Money I had scraped together for my future — to get out of my moldy basement apartment, fix my life, and start over. He promised he’d pay it back in three months.
Then he disappeared. Ghosted me. Like I was some stranger.
But yesterday… oh, yesterday proved one thing.
Karma doesn’t stay silent. She just waits for the perfect moment.
It all started on a Tuesday night at 11:47 p.m.
My phone buzzed on my nightstand. I groggily glanced at the screen. Kyle’s name flashed across. My heart sank. He never called this late unless something was seriously wrong.
I answered, “Kyle? Everything okay?”
His voice cracked like glass breaking.
“Alan, man, I’m in deep trouble.”
I sat up. “What happened?”
“My car’s totaled. Some drunk idiot ran a red light. Insurance won’t cover the full amount. I need $6,400 by Friday or I lose everything, man.”
I was wide awake now. “$6,400?!”
He didn’t let me finish.
“I know, I know it’s a lot. But I got a rideshare job and a warehouse gig on weekends. Without a car, I lose both. I’m totally screwed, Alan.”
I stared up at the ceiling, at the ugly brown water stain that mocked me daily. That money was everything I had saved. Every dollar. My way out.
“I’ll pay you back in three months, max. I swear on my mother’s grave,” he begged.
“You know I’m good for it.”
The silence between us was thick.
“Please, man. You’re literally the only person I can ask.”
I sighed, my dreams slipping away. “I’ll wire it tomorrow morning.”
His voice cracked again, softer this time.
“Alan, I love you, man. You’re saving my life.”
The next morning, at the bank, the teller tapped her keyboard. Every click felt like a death sentence.
“Six thousand four hundred dollars to Kyle?”
“Yeah,” I muttered.
She handed me the receipt. I looked down:
Balance: $127.43
My phone buzzed immediately.
Kyle: “Dude, you’re a lifesaver. I love you, man. Three months, I promise.”
I walked home in a daze. A water bucket under my leaky ceiling tapped rhythmically — like it was counting down the seconds of my misery.
But Kyle was my best friend. Since freshman year at Riverside College. I’d helped him move four times. Lent him my car for job interviews. We were brothers.
“Three months,” I told myself. “Three months.”
Month one…
Me: “Hey man, how’s the job going?”
Kyle: “Good, good. Still getting settled. Should have cash soon.”
Month two…
Me: “Kyle, any update on repayment?”
Kyle: “Still tight, man. Give me a couple more weeks.”
Month three…
Me: “It’s been exactly three months.”
Kyle: “Yeah, yeah, I know. Just hit with some stuff. I’m working on it.”
I waited another few weeks and sent another text.
Me: “Kyle, I need to know what’s going on.”
His reply came five hours later:
“Chill out, man. You’ll get your money.”
That was the last time I got anything.
Week sixteen…
Me: “Kyle?”
Read receipts stopped. My calls? Straight to voicemail.
“This is Kyle. Leave a message…”
He never called back.
One night, I was eating cereal for dinner again when my stomach dropped.
Kyle’s Instagram story popped up.
Crystal blue ocean. White sand. A drink with a tiny umbrella. Caption:
“Living my best life in Sunset Bay! Grind now, shine later 💸🔥”
I dropped my spoon. Milk splashed across the table.
Grind now? He was grinding my trust into sand.
More posts followed:
- Chrome rims on a new car.
- Lobster dinner at Marino’s.
- Designer sneakers.
I screenshot everything. Not for proof. Just to feel the burn.
While I was choking down instant noodles, Kyle was sipping champagne.
One day, my coworker Jim noticed.
“You okay? You look like someone stole your dog.”
“Worse,” I muttered. “Someone stole my future.”
Five months. Then six. Then seven.
I stopped checking Kyle’s socials. I blocked his number. I whispered to the mirror:
“Karma will handle it.”
But karma was quiet. Too quiet. Kyle was out there flexing his fake success, and I was counting coins for groceries.
Then… yesterday happened.
I was debugging code when my phone buzzed.
“Incoming Wire Transfer: $10,100.00. Sender: Kyle.”
I froze.
My coffee mug slipped. Smashed on the floor.
I checked again. The money was real. Sitting in my account.
Then my phone buzzed again — panic texts from Kyle.
Kyle: “DUDE! I SENT YOU MONEY BY MISTAKE. SEND IT BACK NOW!!”
Another one.
“Alan! That was for my car payment, man!”
“Seriously, bro. I’m gonna overdraw. SEND IT BACK!”
“DON’T BE PETTY!”
Petty?
I nearly threw my phone across the room.
I stared at the screen. My fingers hovered. Should I keep it all? Ten grand could change my life.
But then I saw my reflection in the screen. Tired eyes. Worn shirt. Same guy who trusted too easily.
I took a deep breath.
I sent back $3,600. The rest? I kept.
$6,400 for what he owed me. A little extra for emotional damage.
Then I typed:
“I don’t need what isn’t mine. I’m not like you. We’re even now.”
SEND.
Blocked his number before he could reply.
He tried calling me from other phones. Blocked those too.
Next morning, my friend Derek called.
“Dude, Kyle’s telling everyone you stole from him.”
I laughed. “What’s he saying now?”
“That you kept money he accidentally sent. But here’s the kicker—he told us months ago that you gave him that money as a gift.”
“A gift? A gift I followed up on 20 times?”
“Yeah, no one’s buying it. Everyone knows the truth now.”
I felt lighter. For the first time in months, I made real breakfast. Eggs. Toast. Not just cereal.
My phone buzzed nonstop — messages from mutual friends.
“Kyle’s full of crap.”
“Nobody believes him.”
Turns out Kyle owed a lot of people money. I wasn’t the only one.
That day, I used the money for something I’d dreamed of.
I paid the deposit on a new apartment.
My apartment.
One bedroom. Riverside Heights. Big windows. Quiet neighbors. No leaks. No yelling. No ramen every night.
The sun poured through my new window the next morning when my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
“Alan… it’s Kyle.”
I almost hung up.
“I’m sorry, okay? I know I messed up.”
“You’ve got 30 seconds.”
“Things got complicated. I was embarrassed about how long it was taking…”
“Embarrassed enough to post beach selfies while I ate noodles?”
“I can explain—”
“Save it. We’re even. Stay out of my life.”
Click.
Blocked again.
Life is strange. Sometimes karma walks in disguised as a misplaced wire transfer.
Kyle thought he could take my money, vanish into his Instagram fantasy, and never face consequences.
He was wrong.
Some mistakes cost $6,400.
Others? They cost everything else.
I learned the difference between friendship and freeloaders. Between blind loyalty and standing up for yourself.
Now?
I grind. I shine. I never trust a thief with my future again.
I looked into my clean window, sunlight warm on my face.
“Grind now, shine later?” I whispered.
“Nah, Kyle. Grind always. Shine forever.”
Karma didn’t knock.
She kicked the door open. And I let her in.
