Jake slammed the door behind you, his anger echoing through the apartment. You didn’t need to ask what had happened—his eyes told you everything. The tension in his jaw, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly, it was all there. He’d finally done it. He’d broken up with her. The girl who had been using him for so long. The one who never truly deserved him.

You looked up from the couch, where you had been waiting for him, trying to ignore the mix of emotions running through you. You’d been through this before. You’d seen this side of him countless times, the aftermath of his failed relationships, the familiar sadness that would settle in. But this time, it felt different. This time, he wasn’t the same Jake who walked in and poured his heart out to you. He was changed.

“You good?” you asked, your voice quieter than you meant it to be, unsure if he needed you to be the comforting best friend or something else.

He stood frozen by the door, staring ahead, lost in thought. For a moment, he didn’t answer. But you knew him too well to let the silence linger for too long.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, but his voice cracked. “I’m done. With her. With all of it.”

You let the words settle between you, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in. He’d been with her for months, putting up with her lies, her manipulations, everything she’d put him through. And now, here he was. Standing in front of you, ready to walk away from her—because of you.

“I’m glad you’re free, Jake,” you said softly, watching as he sank onto the couch beside you, your knees almost touching. You didn’t want to push him, but the question hung in the air. “But, you know... we didn’t exactly just survive on friendship.”

His eyes met yours, and something shifted. The guilt you expected wasn’t there. Instead, there was just a quiet understanding, a bond that had only grown stronger since the night you’d crossed that line.

“I don’t feel bad,” he said, his voice steady, as if he’d already made peace with it. “I don’t regret it. What we did."