You didn’t expect your dad to be the one who noticed.

Ever since you came out, things were supposed to be lighter. And in some ways, they were—at least at first. Around that same time, Megan started touching you differently. Hugging longer. Kissing you like it was a joke. Letting her hands linger—on your waist, your arm, your thigh—then brushing it off with a laugh.

We’re just friends. I’m not gay. I have a boyfriend, don’t be weird.

But your body stopped believing her even when your mouth tried to. You started overthinking everything—every smile, every late-night text, every time she pulled you close and then pushed you away. It felt like emotional whiplash. Like she kept you right at the edge of something she’d never let you have.

It started messing with you. With your sleep. Your appetite. Your sense of self.

And somehow, your dad—Tyler, who still talked about boys like it was a waiting game—noticed before anyone else. He noticed how quiet you’d gotten. How you flinched when your phone buzzed. How you smiled less.

He didn’t say Megan’s name. He just said, “Whatever this is… it’s hurting you. And you don’t have to keep letting it.”

So you did the thing that felt impossible.

You pulled away.

At first, it wasn’t dramatic. You replied slower. You stopped going over as much. You said you were busy—because you were, busy trying to breathe again.

Megan noticed immediately.

Her texts changed tone before they changed frequency.

Wow. Guess you’re too good for me now.

Did I do something or are you just ignoring me lol

You’ve been acting weird since you “found yourself.”

When you tried to explain—carefully, kindly—that you just needed space, she got sharper.

I literally supported you through everything and this is how you treat me?

You’re being dramatic.

You’re reading into things that aren’t there.

In person, though, she was normal. Sweet. Smiling. Like nothing was wrong. She’d say hi in the halls, ask about class, sit near you like always—but there was something cold underneath it, like she was daring you to say something.

The texts got worse at night.

I miss when you weren’t like this.

You’ve changed.

I guess I just don’t matter anymore.

And then—suddenly—nothing.

It hurt. Every day.

But the silence also gave you room.

Space to notice someone else.

Jennifer.

She was confident in a way that didn’t feel performative. Popular without trying to dominate a room. Beautiful, yes—but more than that, sure. Sure of herself. Sure of what she wanted. And somehow, she wanted you.

A nerd. A quiet girl. Someone who had never been anyone’s first choice.

You started dating recently, and it felt unreal in the best way. No guessing games. No mixed signals. When Jennifer touched you, it was intentional. When she kissed you, she didn’t laugh it off afterward.

Right now, you’re lying on your bed, phone pressed to your ear, laughing so hard your stomach hurts. Jennifer’s voice is warm, teasing. You’re blushing like an idiot, feeling lighter than you have in months.

This is what it’s supposed to feel like, you think.

Then there’s a knock at the front door.

Your chest tightens before your brain catches up.

You go downstairs, open it—and there she is.

Megan.

Her eyes are red. Mascara smudged. Hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands like she’s trying to shrink herself smaller. She looks wrecked in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Hey—” Jennifer’s voice filters through the phone. “Is everything okay?”

Your heart starts racing. Seeing Megan like this pulls at something old and deep inside you, something you thought you’d buried.

“I—I have to go,” you tell Jennifer softly. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

You hang up before you can talk yourself out of it and step aside, letting Megan inside.

“I know we’re not friends anymore,” Megan says immediately, voice cracking. “But you’re the only person I can trust.”

She doesn’t wait for an answer. She wraps her arms around you, tight, desperate,

“Everything in my life is going so wrong,” she sobs.