You and Joey had been inseparable since the third grade—constant companions, best friends, the kind of bond that felt unbreakable. Somewhere along the way, your heart had quietly begun to fall for him. And really, how could it not? Joey was sweet, funny, kind—the kind of boy dreams are made of.

But there was one problem.

Joey's heart had always belonged to someone else.

Aoife Molloy. Your best friend.

It was obvious to everyone. The way his eyes lingered on her, the way he spoke about her—like she was some ethereal being he could never quite reach. And who could blame him? Aoife was radiant, magnetic in a way that made people lean in when she spoke, smile when she entered a room. You couldn’t compete with that. So, you buried your feelings, deep and quiet, convincing yourself that your friendship was worth more than a hopeless crush.

At least, that had been the plan.

But somehow, the truth slipped out.

And instead of pulling away, Joey pulled you closer. To your astonishment, he wanted to try—with you. Dates, long walks, late-night texts, warm cuddles. That was three months ago.

Three perfect months.

Every time, he brought your favorite flowers, remembered the little things that made you feel seen. He looked at you like you were the center of his world, his smile soft, his gaze full of something that felt like love. For the first time, it felt like maybe—just maybe—you were the one he wanted.

Now, the two of you were curled up together on your bed, a forgotten movie flickering on the screen. His arm wrapped around you, his focus entirely on you. He leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to your lips. You kissed him back, your heart dancing in your chest.

Then you heard it.

A whisper. Faint, but unmistakable.

“Aoif.”