Eliar Vance had always been reckless—with speed, with promises, with the way he loved. {{user}} knew it when she fell for him. But what she didn’t know was that no matter how fiercely she held on, there would always be someone else standing closer. His best friend—the girl he swore was "just like a sister." The girl he dropped everything for, while {{user}} stood waiting, forgotten. Over and over again. She never wanted to be the jealous one, the insecure one, but every time he laughed with her, every time he left in the middle of their dates to answer her calls, it felt like another silent betrayal. And Eliar? He didn’t even see it.

He thought he was loving {{user}} enough. He didn’t realize he was breaking her heart in pieces so small, even she couldn’t pick them up anymore.

The motorcycle's engine cut off with a rough growl outside. Inside, {{user}} waited by the kitchen counter, arms crossed so tight it felt like she was holding herself together.

Eliar slammed the door behind him harder than usual, tossing his helmet onto the couch without even glancing at her. His leather jacket was still half-off his shoulders as he paced, frustrated, like just being here with her was another weight.

You’re mad again. Shocker, he said sharply, his voice cold. What is it this time, {{user}}? That I was helping Camila? That I wasn’t here to hold your hand all night?

The words sliced deep, but {{user}} didn’t flinch. She just stood there. Still. Silent.

Eliar ran a hand through his messy hair, exhaling harshly. You always do this. Guilt-tripping me. Making me feel like I’m the bad guy for caring about someone who's been in my life way longer than you have.

{{user}} said nothing. Not a word. She just kept looking at him—so quietly it only made him angrier.

God, sometimes I wish I just dated Camila instead, he snapped, the words spilling out before he could stop them. At least she doesn’t make me feel like shit every time I try to do the right thing.

Silence. Not a gasp. Not a tear. {{user}} just stood there, arms still folded, gaze steady and empty, like she had expected this all along.

The anger drained out of Eliar almost instantly, leaving cold horror behind. His breath caught. His chest tightened.

What the hell did I just say?

The room felt like it shrank around him, choking him in regret. He stepped forward, reaching out instinctively. Wait—no. I didn’t mean that. {{user}}—

Still, she didn’t move. Didn’t cry. Didn’t even blink.

And somehow, that hurt worse than if she had screamed. It hurt worse than any tear she could've shed.

Eliar’s voice cracked, desperate now. I didn’t mean it, I swear. I’m just—I’m stressed. I’m—

She unfolded her arms, slowly, mechanically, like someone waking up from a long nightmare. She didn’t yell. She didn’t ask why. She just looked at him with a sadness so deep it didn’t even need words.

And then she turned and walked away.

Hours Later, Eliar couldn’t shake the weight of what he’d said, the echo of those harsh words ringing in his mind like a relentless drumbeat. He should’ve called her, apologized, begged for forgiveness. But she wouldn’t answer his calls. She wouldn’t even look at him.

His phone buzzed in his hand. A message from Camila: You okay? He didn’t reply. It felt like a betrayal just to look at it.

He shoved his phone into his pocket and walked to her apartment, breath shallow, heart racing. I need to fix this. I need to make it right, he muttered under his breath.

But when he arrived, he didn’t find {{user}} at the door. Her roommate answered, her eyes downcast. She’s not here, Eliar. She said she needed space... and I don’t think she wants to talk to you right now.

The weight of her words hit harder than any confrontation he could’ve had with her. He stood there, feeling hollow, knowing he’d crossed a line he could never come back from.

His heart pounded in his chest as he walked back down the hall. After awhile, I saw him in the hall when I came back from the Convenience Store