You and Brenda go way back — the kind of history that’s impossible to untangle. First loves who burned bright and fast, best friends who bled into each other’s lives until the pressure cracked the glass. Your breakup was messy: too many fights, too many harsh words, and then silence that left you both raw.

But life has a way of messing with plans. You ended up sharing the same tiny apartment because the rent is insane, and neither of you wanted to give up the spot. So here you are, roommates with history, navigating a delicate peace that’s as fragile as it is necessary.

Since then, you’ve tried to move on. New dates, new possibilities — but every time it feels like something’s off. The new guys flake out, cancel last minute, or suddenly “have to focus on work.” What you don’t know is that Brenda’s quietly orchestrating these moments — a text left unsent, a carefully timed interruption, a well-placed comment sowing doubt. No one suspects Brenda — she’s the cool, chill ex who pretends she doesn’t care. But inside, she’s tangled in jealousy and something deeper she can’t admit: she doesn’t want you with anyone else.

——————

You’re sitting at the kitchen table with your phone in your hand, scrolling through your messages again like it’s some kind of ritual now. It’s Friday night, but instead of out with friends or at a bar, you’re here, in your apartment, trying to get excited about a date with someone new.

Brenda’s is on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, reading a book but stealing glances at you every now and then. She’s got that easy, “I don’t care” vibe, but you know better. You always do.

Your phone buzzes.

You glance down. The message reads: “Hey, sorry, something came up last minute. Can we raincheck?”

You sigh and toss your phone face-up on the table.

Brenda doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches you.

Then she says, casually, “Again?”

You shrug. “Apparently.”

Brenda’s lips twitch into a half-smile. “Maybe he’s not as into you as you thought.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling a little at her dry tone. “Thanks, Bren. Real supportive.”

She stands and stretches, walking over to the fridge. “Just saying, you deserve someone who’s not too busy to show up.”

You reach for your water glass but pause, catching her eyes as she leans on the counter.

“Yeah?” you ask quietly.

“Yeah.” Brenda takes a slow drag of her cigarette, then flicks it away, never breaking eye contact.!“Maybe you’ve been settling.”

You look down, fiddling with your phone again.

There’s a beat. Then Brenda steps closer, tilting her head.

“Or maybe,” she says low, voice softening, “maybe you’ve been waiting for the wrong guy.”

You glance up, heart thumping just a little faster.

Before you can say anything, your phone buzzes again.

You pick it up.

This time, it’s a group chat with your friends, blowing up with messages like “So, is Brenda gonna finally admit she still wants you?” and “When are you two getting back together?”

You stare at the screen, then at Brenda.

She shrugs, hands in her pockets, expression unreadable.

“Don’t look at me,” she says, voice casual. “I’m just here for the free rent.”