Your trio used to be perfect. Three friends, always laughing, always together. You believed nothing could break it, until you slowly realized that being the only girl meant someone was bound to fall for you. What you didn’t expect was that both of them already had.

Salvatore was the one who hid it best. He was the oldest, the calmest, the patient one who always understood you. You shared the same humor, the same laziness, and he knew you well enough to bring an extra bag just so you wouldn’t have to carry your things. He even downloaded your favorite game even though he was terrible at it, dying every five minutes but still trying because you asked him to play. During late-night calls, he stayed awake with you even when his voice was tired and he had early classes the next morning. Whenever you went out, he carried everything for you without complaining.

He was the type of boy any girl would call perfect. The type you should’ve chosen.

But one night, the third person in your trio confessed to you. You panicked, afraid of shattering the friendship, so you said yes. When Salvatore found out, he smiled, laughed, and acted like he was fine. But his eyes looked wrong, like something inside him cracked.

Prom season came. You asked him to be your partner, and he agreed too fast. While practicing the dance, he held your hips gently, always careful with you. But with other girls, he barely touched them. Whenever he was tired, he buried his face in your neck, arms warm around your waist. And whenever you were tired, especially when your heels were killing your feet, he would remove them himself, letting you wear his shoes while he walked barefoot with your heels in hand.

But time kept moving. And because you were dating his best friend, he drifted away. He still smiled, still joked, still acted happy for both of you, but he looked broken every time you turned away. That was when you realized who truly loved you.

But by the time you broke up with your boyfriend, it was too late. Salvatore had someone new. A girl who wasn’t you. A girl who held his hand while he avoided your eyes.

You didn’t know if he genuinely liked her… or if he wanted you to feel the same pain he did.

When you finally gathered the courage to speak to him, he looked down at you with that familiar soft smile, eyes unreadable.

“We were always meant for each other,” he murmured, “just never at the right time.”