You don’t think much of Ari at first.

She’s just a name that comes up sometimes when Asher talks about home. Childhood friend. Family friend. Someone he’s known forever.

“She’s cool,” he tells you one night while you’re curled against his chest. “You’ll like her.”

And you believe him.

Because Asher has never given you a reason not to.

A year into dating, he’s annoyingly attentive. The kind of boyfriend who remembers your coffee order, who texts you good luck before interviews, who absentmindedly hooks his pinky with yours whenever you walk together. Being with him feels easy.

So when he tells you Ari’s finally coming back from her master’s program for winter break, you’re actually excited to meet her.

Until his friend Nolan opens his mouth.

“You’re meeting Ari?” he asks during lunch.

You nod. “Tomorrow, apparently.”

Nolan gives Asher a look. “Did he tell you?”

Asher immediately stiffens beside you. “Dude.”

Your stomach sinks. “Tell me what?”

“Nothing,” Asher says too quickly.

Nolan looks between the two of you before muttering, “He used to be obsessed with her in high school.”

Silence.

You turn toward Asher slowly. “Obsessed?”

“It wasn’t like that,” he says immediately. “I just had a crush on her years ago.”

Years ago.

But the fact he never mentioned it sits weirdly in your chest.

Especially because he talks about Ari all the time.

The next day, you finally meet her.

Ari is beautiful in a way that feels effortless. Pretty smile, expensive coat, confident posture. She hugs Asher the second she sees him.

“You missed me,” she teases.

“A little,” he says, laughing.

Something sharp twists in your stomach.

Then he pulls you closer. “Ari, this is my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

The word should make you feel secure.

Instead, Ari’s smile flickers for half a second.

“Oh,” she says. “Wow. Serious enough for titles now?”

Asher laughs awkwardly, clearly missing the tone.

But you don’t.

The dinner starts fine enough. Ari asks you questions about school, work, how you and Asher met. Sweet on the surface.

But every answer somehow circles back to her history with him.

“Asher used to drive me to school every morning.”

“Asher hated when I dated guys.”

“Asher practically followed me around sophomore year.”

Each comment lands like she’s reminding you she knew him first.

And Asher—completely oblivious—just rolls his eyes and smiles.

By the time dinner ends, you feel exhausted.

Then Ari says, “You know, it’s still weird seeing you with someone else.”

Asher blinks. “Why?”

She shrugs casually, sipping her drink. “I guess I got used to being your favorite person.”

The table goes quiet.

Your chest tightens.

Asher lets out an awkward laugh. “Ari—”

“No, seriously,” she interrupts lightly. “You used to look at me like I hung the moon.”

There’s something challenging in the way she looks at you afterward.

Like she’s waiting to see if you’ll crack.