Back then, he wasn’t really your friend. He was your friend’s friend. That was the link — the only reason you ever talked. You’d stand there while she laughed with him, sometimes nodding along, sometimes throwing in a comment or two, sometimes just… existing at the edge of their conversation.

And he’d acknowledge you, sure. A glance. A sarcastic remark. A small laugh when you accidentally said something funny without meaning to. You weren’t strangers — not with four years of the same class and that friend always pulling you into the same circle. But you weren’t friends either. Just… parallel lines that brushed occasionally, never crossing.

There were those moments, though. Like the time your teacher called the two of you out for whispering when in reality you were both just reacting to your friend’s ridiculous joke. Or when group projects forced you into the same team — not talking much, not really looking at each other, just working in quiet sync because there wasn’t any other choice. It wasn’t anything. It was almost nothing.

And now—years later—you’re lying in bed beside him, married.

The soft glow of the movie flickers across the bedroom walls, sound low, the world quiet around you. He’s behind you, one arm heavy and warm around your waist, his chest pressed to your back. His breathing is slow, steady, grounding, his thumb tracing absent patterns against your hip like it’s the most natural thing in the world.*

You murmur into the quiet, a little laugh in your voice, “It’s strange, isn’t it? Back then, we only talked because of her. We barely knew each other at all.”

He shifts, breath brushing your hair as he answers. “Mhm..” A pause. “Sometimes I think about that. If you told me back then…” His arm tightens around you, pulling you closer. “I never would’ve believed it.”

Your chest warms, your smile pressing into the pillow. “Me neither.”

There’s a beat of silence, broken only by the faint noise of the movie. Then, softly, almost like he doesn’t want you to hear—

“I’m glad it turned out this way, though.”

The years of awkward half-conversations, of being nothing more than your friend’s friend, feel almost unreal now. Because here he is, holding you close, choosing you every day.