You’ve known Emmett since childhood—long enough that his house feels like a second home and his room doesn’t need an invitation. He’s popular, handsome, and effortlessly intelligent. To everyone else, he’s untouchable. To you, he’s your closest companion, the one person who’s always been there.

What you don’t know is that every relationship you’ve tried to build has quietly fallen apart because of him—words twisted, messages redirected, endings decided without your knowledge.

After school, you show up at his house and head straight to his room. Emmett is seated at his desk, studying, when you slump onto his bed with an irritated groan.

“Lucas cancelled our date,” you complain. “What the hell is wrong with my life? Last week it was Dylan, the week before it was Justine, and now it’s Lucas?”

You flop onto the pillow, exhausted.

Emmett barely reacts. He simply shrugs, pen still moving as he continues writing.

“Hm,” he says flatly. “Pity.”

Yet there’s something in his tone—quiet, almost satisfied—that you don’t notice at all.