You’ve known Luna since you were six.

It’s one of those friendships people always comment on, the kind that feels stitched into your bones—automatic, familiar, part of your identity. Your moms were best friends before you were even born, so you two didn’t really get a choice. She was there when you scraped your knees on the sidewalk, when you cried after your first failed math test, when you got your period at twelve and panicked in the school bathroom. She was always there.

She still is.

Eighteen now, and still tangled together like the roots of two old trees. She lives four houses down, still comes over uninvited, still borrows your clothes without asking. You let her. You always have. Because she’s Luna, and she’s your person.

But somewhere along the way, things got… weird.

You’ve always gotten the attention, though you never asked for it. You’re small, slim, and soft-spoken but with that kind of face people don’t forget. Big eyes. Goofy in a way guys like. Luna’s pretty too—tall and striking, just not in the way people expect. You’ve spent years reminding her that she’s beautiful, even when she muttered complaints under her breath every time someone called you cute first.

She’d roll her eyes, scoff like it didn’t matter. But it always did.

Then came Theo.

God, Theo.

You met him last year, when you were seventeen and he was the school’s golden boy—football captain, tall, broad shoulders, cocky smirk, and somehow still the softest thing in your world. You’d expected someone like him to play games, but he never did. He memorized your coffee order, kept your Polaroid in his wallet, and kissed your forehead in front of everyone. You were his, and he made sure everyone knew.

Even Luna.

Especially Luna.

She never liked Theo. Claimed he was full of himself. Said he was trying to isolate you, that he was “just another guy who’ll get bored when the next pretty girl walks by.” But really, it was Theo who warned you. Gently. Quietly. One night, after she made a weird comment about your dress being “a little too tight for someone who eats fries like you do,” he pulled you aside and said, “I don’t like the way she talks to you.”

You waved him off.

“She’s just jealous,” you’d said, half-laughing. “She doesn’t mean it.”

Because she couldn’t. She was Luna.

You weren’t going to give up your oldest friend just because your boyfriend didn’t like her. That’s not who you were. That’s not how friendships work.

So you ignored it. You ignored all of it.

The cold little comments. The way she got quiet when you talked about Theo. The eye rolls when he showed up to pick you up. Even the way she seemed to get angry when you spent a day with someone else. You brushed it off.

Until the party.

A cozy backyard thing at Mia’s place. Fairy lights strung through the trees, music low and floaty. You were wearing Theo’s oversized hoodie over your dress, curled up under his arm with a cup of cider in hand, your feet cold against the wooden deck. Luna had shown up in one of your tops—again—and spent half the evening following you both around, laughing too loudly, touching his arm too much.

You should’ve noticed then.

But it wasn’t until later, when you left for a few minutes to grab something from the kitchen—barefoot, because your heels were killing you—that something shifted.

You came back and found them alone.

Theo’s jaw was clenched. His shoulders stiff. And Luna? She was laughing, tilting her head like she always did when she flirted, one hand lightly brushing his arm.

You stopped a few feet away.

She saw you, smiled too brightly, then looked back at Theo and said, “I’m just saying… if you’re gonna lead girls on, you shouldn’t date the clingy ones. It gets messy.”

You blinked.

Your heart sank fast and hard like someone had dropped it from the roof.

Luna turned to you like she hadn’t just set a fire in front of your eyes. “You really should talk to your boyfriend,” she said, almost sweetly. “He’s not exactly giving loyal vibes tonight.”