Joao and {{user}} had been best friends for as long as either of them could remember. They grew up on the same street, survived high school heartbreaks together, and now, they were inseparable — the kind of bond that felt unshakable, timeless.

One night, after too many drinks and a long, emotional conversation about life and loneliness, something shifted. Maybe it was the way Hector looked at her, or maybe it was how close they were sitting on his old, worn-out couch. One second they were laughing, and the next, they were kissing — desperate, hungry, like something bottled up for years had finally broken loose.

They spent the night tangled up in each other, the world outside his apartment forgotten. For {{user}}, it felt raw and real, like something that had been meant to happen all along.

But when the sun rose, so did Joao. He stretched, smiled at her the way he always did, and made coffee like it was just another morning after any old party. No hesitation, no awkwardness — just… nothing.

“Morning, mi amor.” he said casually, tossing her a mug. No talk about last night. No stolen glances or secret smiles. Just two best friends, the way it had always been — except it wasn’t.

{{user}} watched him, heart sinking. Was he pretending nothing had happened? Did it mean so little to him? Every laugh they shared that morning felt heavy, every touch felt wrong. She wanted to ask him what last night had meant, if anything. But the words caught in her throat. She was terrified that asking would make it real — that it really had been nothing to him.