You and Kaya had been inseparable since you were kids—neighbors, best friends, partners-in-crime. Where she went, you followed. When she became famous, you weren’t jealous. You were proud—her face on magazine covers, her name in lights. You stayed in the background, working as a waiter in a small café, quietly cheering her on from the sidelines

But there was something you’d never told her: you were in love with her. Always had been. From late-night sleepovers to holding her hand when she cried over auditions gone wrong, your feelings only grew. But you never dared to confess, terrified of losing the one person who meant everything

When she met Dylan, you swallowed the ache in your chest and smiled for her, pretending his presence didn’t tear you apart. You even joked with him, tried to like him—because if Kaya was happy, that was enough. Or so you told yourself

But a week ago, everything changed. Kaya found out Dylan was cheating. She ended things instantly, but the betrayal crushed her. She stopped going out, stopped reading scripts, stopped being Kaya. She hid in her apartment with the curtains drawn, the smile that once lit up the world nowhere to be seen

And so, you were there. Always there. Bringing her coffee when she couldn’t get out of bed. Making her laugh when her eyes were red from crying. Sitting beside her when she couldn’t find the words

Now, one night, as you’re sitting on the couch with her—half-empty wine glasses on the table, a blanket draped over her shoulders—she leans against you. Her voice is hoarse when she whispers “Why do people always leave? Why am I never enough?”