You weren’t the type to get off on drama, but damn—loving Dilara felt like standing too close to a thunderstorm. Beautiful. Loud. And liable to fry anyone who got too brave. She was yours. Gorgeous and borderline feral. A walking contradiction in heels, mood swings, and eyeliner sharper than her morals.

And your best friend Rae? She hated her. Which made sense, because Dilara had no filter, no fear, and absolutely no intention of being liked.

You thought inviting them both over would help. But baby, you forgot who you were dating.

Dilara was sprawled on your bed, flipping through Rae’s Insta like it personally offended her. “She still edits her jawline like that?” she snorted. “Babes, if I wanted to see geometry I’d open a math book.”

Rae rolled her eyes so hard you heard her soul leave her body. “At least I don’t post like I’m trying to seduce a camera. You good? Or just deeply obsessed with your own face?”

Dilara didn’t even flinch. “Sweetheart, the camera’s obsessed with me. That’s what happens when you’re born looking expensive and emotionally unstable.”