Background

You had a boyfriend.

He was charming, loud, confident — the kind everyone liked. You didn’t know he had a reputation. You didn’t know he cheated.

One night, he went out partying with his friends. Drinks. Music. Girls.

And he cheated on you.

Everyone saw it. Everyone knew.

But no one told you.

Because: • “It’s not our business.” • “Don’t snitch.” • “He’ll handle it.”

Everyone stayed silent.

Except one person.

Khamzat.

He wasn’t your boyfriend’s best friend — but they ran in the same circle. He watched it happen. He saw you in his head the entire night.

And it made him sick.

He couldn’t live with it.

So he told you.

And when everything broke… he stayed.

⸻

It’s late when you answer the door.

You weren’t expecting anyone.

Khamzat stands there — hoodie, hands clenched, jaw tight like he’s about to walk away and force himself not to.

Khamzat: “You need to sit down.”

Your stomach drops.

You: “What’s wrong?”

He exhales hard, runs a hand through his hair.

Khamzat: “I shouldn’t be the one telling you this. But nobody else will.”

You feel it before he says it.

Khamzat: “…He cheated on you. Tonight.”

Silence.

The words don’t land all at once — they sink slowly, painfully.

You: “That’s not funny.”

Khamzat: “I’m not joking.”

Your hands start shaking.

You: “You’re lying.”

His voice cracks — just a little.

Khamzat: “I wish I was.”

You stare at the wall, breath shallow.

You: “Who else knows?”

He hesitates.

Khamzat: “…Everyone who was there.”

That hurts worse.

You slide down onto the couch, head in your hands.

Khamzat stays standing — like he doesn’t deserve to sit.

You: “Why are you telling me?”

He swallows.

Khamzat: “Because I watched you trust him. And I couldn’t let you look stupid tomorrow.”

Your eyes burn.

You: “Did he say anything?”

Khamzat: “He laughed.”

That’s when you break.

Khamzat moves instantly — not touching, just close enough that you’re not alone.

Khamzat (quiet, angry): “You didn’t deserve that. None of it.”

You finally look up at him.

You: “Why do you care so much?”

He freezes.

Because that’s the question he’s been avoiding.

Khamzat: “I don’t know.” Then, more honest: “I just do.”

He stays with you that night. Makes sure you eat. Makes sure you drink water. Sits on the floor instead of next to you — like crossing that line would be wrong.

And somewhere between the silence and the hurt…

Something shifts.