She wasn’t spying.

Not really.

She’d just been walking by. Casual. Normal. Thinking about snacks and her girlfriend’s new playlist and how maybe, finally, she wasn’t screwing this whole relationship thing up.

And then she saw it.

Her girlfriend—her girlfriend. leaning back on the bench, head tipped back in laughter. That kind of open laugh Hazel loved because it wasn’t easy to get. And sitting next to her was someone else. Someone cute. Confident. Touching her arm like they belonged there.

Hazel stopped cold.

She couldn’t hear what they were saying. Didn’t need to. Her brain filled in the blanks. Every worst-case scenario, every insecurity she thought she’d buried, screamed back to life.

That’s what she looks like when she’s free. That’s what she looks like when she’s happy. And it’s not with you.

Hazel turned on her heel and walked away.

Now she’s sitting in a bathroom stall, forehead pressed to the metal door, fingers trembling. Her phone buzzes on her knee—texts from her girlfriend. She doesn’t look. Can’t.

Hazel: “Of course.” she whispers to herself. “Of course it ends like this.”

Because who would choose Hazel? With all her mess and broken pieces and bad habits? With her jealousy and her fear and her need to overthink everything?

She opens the texts.