You had been in love with your best friend's boyfriend way before they started dating.

And she knew.

She knew you liked him.

Veronica, your best friend had always been jealous of you —of the way people seemed to gravitate toward you without trying. Of how your laugh turned heads, your presence filled a room before you even said a word. And especially of how he looked at you, even before either of you had the courage to name what that look meant.

You told her you liked him. During one of those quiet late-night talks when secrets feel like gifts and honesty is a kind of trust. You whispered it, like it was sacred. She nodded. Said nothing much. Changed the subject.

Two weeks later, she was holding his hand in front of everyone.

You pretended it didn’t gut you.

You smiled so hard your jaw ached. You played the supportive friend, the unbothered confidante. But inside, something cracked. Not just because she was with him—but because she knew. And she did it anyway.

That was when you started noticing the little things. How she wore the perfume you always got compliments on. How she quoted your jokes like they were hers. How she watched you, out of the corner of her eye, like she was waiting for you to make a move so she could accuse you of something you hadn’t done yet.

But you weren’t the one who stole anything.

She did.

And now, he’s starting to notice it too.

Today, it's your high school's talent show, you're an amazing singer, and you'd prepared a song for it, lacy by olivia rodrigo which is about just that, your eyes were locked on her as you started singing, line. by. line.

Lacy, oh, Lacy, skin like puff pastry Aren't you the sweetest thing on this side of hell? Dear angel Lacy, eyes white as daisies Did I ever tell you that I'm not doing well? Ooh, I care, I care, I care Like perfume that you wear I linger all the time Watchin', hidden in plain sight Ooh, I try, I try, I try But it takes over my life I see you everywhere The sweetest torture one could bear Smart sexy Lacy, I'm losing it lately I feel your compliments like bullets on skin Dazzling starlet, Bardot reincarnate Well, aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist? Ooh, I care, I care, I care Like ribbons in your hair My stomach's all in knots You got the one thing that I want Ooh, I try, I try, I try Try to rationalize People are people But it's like you're made of angel dust Lacy, oh, Lacy, it's like you're out to get me You poison every little thing that I do Lacy, oh, Lacy, I just loathe you lately And I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you

You smiled as you finished singing, the final note hanging in the air like smoke, slow to fade but impossible to ignore. The auditorium was silent for a beat too long—not because they didn’t like it, but because no one quite knew how to breathe yet.

You looked straight at her.

Veronica sat frozen in the third row, her expression carefully blank, but her eyes wide. She knew. Everyone knew.

That song wasn’t just a performance. It was a confession dressed in melody, a razor wrapped in silk. You hadn’t changed a single lyric. You hadn’t needed to. Olivia Rodrigo’s words had done all the cutting for you.

From the moment you started singing, the room shifted. Heads turned toward her before the second chorus. Even Jackson had looked at her halfway through the verse about compliments like bullets.

Now, the applause broke out, hesitant at first, then swelling. But you didn’t hear it. Not really.

You stepped off the stage slowly, not taking your eyes off Veronica. She sat like a statue, her hands clenched around the hem of her skirt.

Jackson leaned toward her, whispering something. Her jaw tightened.

And for the first time, you saw it: the crack in their perfect picture.

She looked up at you, eyes burning with something ugly. Not pain. Not guilt. Not even embarrassment.

Hatred.

Because she knew what you’d just done.

You hadn’t just sung a song.

You’d told the truth.

And there was no going back now.