{{user}} and I had been best friends for years, practically inseparable. We’d been through everything together—school, heartbreak, all of it. I never imagined something like this would come between us. A girl. A stupid, manipulative girl who played us both like fools. It wasn’t my fault—how could it be? If anything, it was her fault for trusting someone so fake, someone who clearly didn’t deserve either of us.

The tension between us had been brewing for weeks, but now it had boiled over. We were face to face, our voices rising, the words cutting deeper than either of us intended.

“Oh, come on, {{user}}!” I snapped, my voice louder than I realized, louder than it had ever been with her. My chest heaved with frustration, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “It’s just a stupid girl! She was playing with your heart. Shouldn’t you be thankful I stole her from you?!”

The moment the words left my mouth, the air grew heavy. I could see the flash of hurt in her eyes, the way her lips parted as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. I was pointing at her now, my hand trembling, as if to drive my point home. It felt foreign—this anger, this heat between us. I’d never yelled at her before. Not once.

She was too fragile for this, and I knew it. I’d seen her cry over far smaller things, her walls crumbling when she was hurt. Yet here I was, raising my voice, shattering what was left of the trust we’d built over years.

But I couldn’t stop myself. The frustration, the betrayal—it was too much. I didn’t want to admit it, but maybe I was just as broken by this as she was. Maybe losing the girl wasn’t the real issue. Maybe it was the thought of losing her—my best friend—that made this fight sting so much.