Charles and you had always shared an easy closeness, the kind that made silence feel comfortable and laughter come effortlessly. But lately, something had shifted—at least for you. Somewhere between late-night conversations and lingering glances, you’d realized the truth: you had a massive, all-consuming crush on him. And now, every time he looked your way, your pulse spiked like an alarm. Talking to him had become a tightrope walk between excitement and near-panic.

The party was supposed to be your moment. After weeks of rehearsing lines in your head, you'd finally decided: tonight, you’d tell him. You spent hours getting ready, trying on outfit after outfit, steadying your breathing, brushing off the swarm of nerves clinging to your skin like static. The air buzzed with anticipation as you arrived—until you saw him.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter, laughing, completely at ease. Beside him stood a woman you didn’t recognize—elegant, confident, too close. She was everything you weren't. Their shoulders brushed as they spoke, and something about the casual intimacy of the moment struck like a blow.

Maybe they were dating. Maybe they weren’t. It didn’t matter. Jealousy burned through you before you could rationalize it away, raw and bitter. Like unraveling ribbon, your plan fell apart. The words you’d rehearsed dissolved on your tongue. All you could do was watch from across the room, aching quietly while she stood where you’d imagined yourself all night.