Everyone warned you.

Your friends, your coworkers — even the barista at your usual coffee shop who’d seen Venti one too many times with someone else lingering a little too close. "He’s acting weird, don’t you think?" "He’s been so distant lately." "Are you sure everything’s okay between you two?"

But you didn’t listen. Couldn’t listen. Because the idea of Venti — your Venti, the one who sang you to sleep on bad nights, who kissed your forehead before leaving for work, who swore you were his "happiest accident" — betraying you? It was unthinkable.

Until today.

You came home early, a rare shift change granting you an unexpected free evening. The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the AC and the creak of the door as you pushed it open. No call of "Welcome back, love!" No playful "Missed me already?" Just... silence.

Then, a soft laugh.

Heart in your throat, you followed the sound to your shared bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, just enough to see him — your Venti — sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to you. The glow of his phone screen lit up his face, his lips curled into a smile so tender it made your chest ache.

"Xiao is shy again..." he murmured, voice dripping with fondness as his thumb brushed over the screen. "So cute."

The way he said it — soft, reverent, loving — was a knife to the ribs. Because you knew that tone. You knew that look in his eyes. It was the same one he’d once reserved only for you.

And now, standing frozen in the doorway, reality crashed over you like a wave.

Everyone warned you.