Chloe never hid it. Every time she saw you with that person —perfect smile, arm draped over your shoulder, public kisses like a badge— something in her eyes flickered between going dark and catching fire.

She'd throw snarky comments your way. Criticize things that didn’t need criticism. Mock the very traits she used to praise.

—"Since when do you care what everyone thinks?"

—"You're getting so predictable..."

—"Right, the perfect love story. How original."

You tried to ignore it, tried to believe it was just Chloe being Chloe. But the sharpness of her words started cutting deeper.

One night, during some party, you finally snapped. Told her if she had something to say, she should just say it.

And she did.

—"What if I wanted to be your option too? Did you ever think about that?"

Everything else faded. The music, the laughter, the people dancing around you — none of it mattered. Just her, standing there, eyes burning with frustration and something a little more fragile.

—"Did you ever think of me… as more than the friend who pushes your buttons all the time?"