I don’t know why I agreed to come tonight.

The music’s loud, laughter bouncing off the walls of the restaurant, but all I can hear is the sound of my own pulse hammering in my ears. I sit at the edge of the table, a drink in hand I’ve barely touched, eyes drawn again and again to the same place. To her.

She’s right across from me, lit up in the warm glow of the hanging lights. And next to her - him. Her boyfriend. His arm draped casually across the back of her chair, his hand resting lightly against her shoulder as if it belongs there. She leans into him without hesitation, laughing at something he’s just said, eyes shining like she’s forgotten the rest of the world even exists.

And maybe she has.

Maybe that’s what hurts the most.

Because every time her lips curve into that smile - the one I used to believe was ours, the one I thought was mine to draw out of her - it feels like a blade twisting just beneath my ribs. Every time he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, every time her fingers slip over his, I feel it. That sharp sting in my chest. A reminder that she’s happy, but not with me. Never with me.

I force my gaze down to the table, to the condensation sliding down the side of my glass. My throat’s tight, words caught somewhere between envy and longing. It’s pathetic, really. I’m supposed to be her best friend. The one who supports her, who’s happy when she’s happy. But right now? I’m not happy. I’m not anything close to it.

I steal another glance before I can stop myself. She’s whispering something to him now, her hand pressed to his arm, nails painted that soft shade of pink she always said made her feel confident. He laughs, low and easy and leans in to press a kiss to her temple. She glows under it.

It’s unbearable.

I swallow hard and try to look away, but my eyes betray me every time. My chest feels heavy, hollow all at once, like the air’s been sucked out of me. This isn’t supposed to matter. She’s never been mine. Not even close. But try telling that to the ache that claws at me every time I see them together.

I grip the edge of my seat, nails digging into the leather.

She looks up suddenly, her gaze meeting mine across the table. For a split second, it’s just us. Her lips curve, that familiar, easy smile she’s always given me. The one that used to make everything feel lighter.

And God, I almost believe it again.

But then he leans in, murmurs something in her ear and her attention shifts right back to him. Just like that, I’m invisible again.

I clear my throat, shove back the knot forming there and raise the glass to my lips. The drink burns down my throat, but not enough to numb anything. Not enough to quiet the pounding in my chest.

I remind myself that she looks happy. She is happy. And I should be glad for her.

But every smile she gives him feels like a bruise pressed deeper into my skin. Every touch is another reminder that I’ll never be the one she reaches for.

I’m her best friend. Nothing more. And God help me, that’s slowly tearing me apart.