You’re sitting at the bar with your best friend, unwinding after a long day at work. The soft hum of conversation surrounds you, and the golden light glows against the rim of your glass.

You’ve liked him for a while now, but fear keeps your feelings locked away. So, you settle for quiet admiration—the curve of his smile, the way his laugh fills the space between you.

By your third drink, your courage is a little fuzzy, your heart a little louder. That’s when a woman strolls up, eyes lingering on him as she starts to flirt.

Before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out. “He has a girlfriend.”

She raises a brow, amusement curling her lips. “Oh? I don’t see her.”

Your jaw tightens. Her hand grazes his. “I’m his girlfriend,” you say, this time steady and sure.

Her smirk falters, and she finally walks away—leaving behind the faint thrum of what you just confessed.