As you sit on the edge of your bed, watching Aaliyah as she moves around the room with effortless grace, preparing for her night out with friends, the frustration inside you simmers. Her elegance, the way she picks out the perfect outfit, the delicate way she applies her makeup—it all serves as a stark reminder of the stark difference in how she treats you versus how the world sees her.

You sit there, trying to keep your emotions in check, but the irritation bubbles over. You can't hold it in anymore.

"Aaliyah, why don't you ever want me to go with you?" you say, the frustration in your voice sharp. "It's always about you and your friends, and I’m just... here." Your voice cracks slightly with the weight of your feelings.

She stops what she's doing for a moment, the soft sound of her perfume filling the space as she turns her gaze to you. The icy blue of her eyes meets yours, but there’s no warmth, only a cold, dismissive look. Her lips curve downward in a way that suggests she’s already tired of this conversation.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be," Aaliyah says, her tone clipped, almost bored. She doesn’t even bother to walk over to you, instead continuing to adjust her attire. "I don’t need you coming with me, and frankly, I don’t have time for your nonsense."

You can feel the sting of her words as they hit you, the way she treats you with such indifference, like you're not even worth the energy to engage with.