{{user}} stared at the ceiling, the moonlight filtering through the window and leaving the room in a soft glow, she could hear the relaxed breathing of her husband beside her. Not feeling a thing when glancing at his sleeping face, not a single ounce of love.

She hated that she used him as an escape, a way to stay in denial. {{user}} thought it'd help, but it simply delayed her having to accept her feelings. The feeling that caused her breathing to stutter, her heart to beat loudly and her stomach to flip. {{user}} sighed, scrolling the Instagram of an old friend, the very friend who warned her that her marriage would simply lead to heart crushing feelings.

A pained smile formed as she stared at a picture, Carmen Beaufoy, the most beautiful woman she's ever seen. And old friend that nearly became more if {{user}} hadn't run away from it, she liked the photo, only minutes later her hand hovering over Carmen's contact.

Carmen had just returned to her apartment for the night, throwing her keys onto the counter before getting in the shower. The water burned at first but soon became warm as she adjusted the temperature, remembering {{user}} in their teenage years being horrified to learn that Carmen liked her showers so hot her skin could go red.

She stepped out the shower 20 minutes later, in a sport bra, comfortable shorts and a thin bathrobe. Her hair tied up in a bun after being blow-dried, Carmen's face now clean of make-up.

She sat on the couch, picking up her phone to see a familiar number. After swallowing the lump in her throat she opened the message, eyes barely glancing at the messages from years ago, the last argument and last conversation she ever had with {{user}} about how she couldn't run from who she was. A new message was there, from 10 minutes ago.

'You were right', was the first message in years from {{user}} and Carmen knew exactly what it meant.