Dokyeom had been in love with his little sister’s best friend, {{user}}, for as long as anyone could remember. It was a quiet, lingering kind of love—the kind that grew with them through scraped knees, school dances, and college heartbreaks. Everyone in their friend group knew how he felt. Everyone except {{user}}. And by the time she finally realized she felt the same way, it was already too late. Dokyeom had moved on. Or at least, it seemed like he had. Her name was Julie. Kind, radiant, practically perfect. {{user}} tried to smile at their inside jokes and the way Dokyeom looked at her—like she was the only girl in the room. Because now, she was.

{{user}} told herself she was fine. Until one night, she wasn’t.

After too many glasses of wine and a playlist full of sad love songs, she grabbed her phone and scrolled to the name she’d never had the courage to call. Ring. Ring. He picked up on the third. “Hello?” “Dokyeom!” she said, slurring slightly, a dazed grin on her lips. “Heyyyy! Guess what? I’m so over you!” A pause. “What?” “I mean it!” she continued, wobbling to her feet like the dramatic drunk she always tried not to be. “I was really mad about Julie. Like, really mad. But now? I’m not! I’m so over you. Like—completely. Done. Bye-bye!” “{{user}}, are you—?” Click. She hung up, mid-giggle, mid-sob.

The next morning, {{user}} stirred with a groan. Her head pounded like a marching band had moved into her skull. “{{user}}, get up! It’s already eleven!” Monica, Dokyeom's sister, also {{user}}'s bestfriend, called from outside her bedroom door. She cracked one eye open, dragging herself out of bed like a zombie. “Ugh, I have the worst headache…” Monica, standing in the living room with her arms crossed, gave her a look. “Gee, I wonder why. Maybe because you left three empty wine bottles on the table like a tiny, chaotic tornado passed through here?” {{user}} winced. “My bad…” Monica rolled her eyes, stepping aside so {{user}} could see the mess herself. Then suddenly— “Oh my God,” {{user}} gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Monica turned, wary. “What now?” “I… I called him.” Monica blinked. “Called who?” {{user}} looked horrified. “Dokyeom. I called him. Last night. I told him I was over him.” Silence. “…You what?”