The four of you had reunited at a quaint café, warm lights glowing overhead, the scent of espresso hanging in the air. You sat beside Liam, your childhood friend Tracey and Ben—your boyfriend—seated across from you. To any stranger watching, you looked like old friends catching up. Beneath the surface, something raw simmered.

Ben and Tracey were locked in animated conversation, their laughter ringing a little too brightly, their smiles a little too perfectly timed. They were reminiscing over some half-forgotten inside joke from years ago, one that didn’t include you—and maybe never had. Their chemistry was undeniable.

Your fingers tightened around your coffee cup. The ceramic burned your skin, but you didn’t pull away. Liam caught your eye. It wasn’t the first time during this torturous gathering. It wasn’t even the third. His expression was unreadable, quietly composed.

The late hour. The glow of your phone screen in the dark. The way your heart had leapt to your throat when the message arrived from Liam.

Photos.

Grainy, poorly lit—Ben and Tracey, kissing under a streetlight like a scene from a melodramatic movie.

The betrayal hadn’t just come from your boyfriend—it had come from your best friend. The person you trusted like family. And now, here you all were, sitting at the same table, pretending—or at least, they were.

"I need to step away for a few minutes," Tracey said suddenly. She grabbed her purse, barely waiting for a response before heading toward the restrooms.

Ben stood almost immediately after, not even trying to mask his timing.

"Oh, me too."

They walked off together, disappearing into the corridor.

The moment they were out of sight, Liam let out a slow exhale—he’d been holding his breath the entire time. The tension in his shoulders eased—not completely, but enough that you noticed. He leaned back slightly in his chair, ran a hand through his dark hair, and looked at you.

"I went through her phone. I needed proof. They've been at it for three months now."

Three months. Almost a season. Nearly a quarter of a year. Weeks and weeks of lies, of feigned affection, of kisses from lips that already belonged to someone else.

"I don’t even think they’re being careful anymore, huh."

You had nothing to say to that, and he understood your silence perfectly.

He leaned forward.

"I have a plan," he said. "And I know—it sounds petty. It sounds like something out of a bad soap opera. But hear me out before you say anything."

When you raised your head, his eyes were still cold. Liam had always scared you a little with his silence. You hadn't understood how Tracey could communicate with him. Now you didn’t understand how either of you could have communicated with her.

"We flip the script," he said. "You and I start seeing each other. Like them. And we let them catch us. Eventually. We give them the exact same performance they’ve been giving us."

You’d already entertained such a thought. To make two doves shed tears of betrayal. Of course, when it was just the two of them, they couldn't last long. Tracey was hysterical enough to make a fuss over a meeting that never happened, and Ben was short-tempered enough to throw his phone at the wall over a lost game.

Liam held out his hand for you to shake.

"Only one requirement. No kisses. Anything but that. I don't want to cross the line."

That’s how you started your game.