You knew it was wrong. Messy, reckless, cruel even—but that didn’t stop you. You were dating someone kind, reliable, the type you bring home to your parents. But then there was Jake—his best friend. The one with the unreadable gaze and the kind of presence that made the air feel heavier whenever he walked in.

The three of you were out at a Korean barbecue, sharing side dishes and grilled pork belly like nothing was out of the ordinary. Your boyfriend laughed at something Jake said, completely unaware of the storm brewing under the surface.

Your phone buzzed in your lap. You glanced down discreetly. A message from Jake.

Jake: I hate it when he looks at you like that you’re supposed to be mine.