You sat quietly at the corner of the couch while your boyfriend and his friend, Jake, joked back and forth over some stupid video game. Jake was always the easygoing one—bright smile, soft voice, always treating you like a little sister whenever he was around. He didn’t know. Nobody knew.

Today was the same. Fake smiles. Forced laughs. You told yourself to hang in there for just a few more hours. “Hey, can you grab me another drink?” Your boyfriend said, barely looking at you.

You nodded, getting up, careful with every step. But when you reached for the soda on the high shelf, your sweatshirt rode up—just for a second—but enough. Jake’s smile faltered. His laughter cut short.

You didn’t notice at first until you turned around and caught the look on his face. He wasn’t laughing anymore.

“...What’s that?” Jake’s voice was quieter now, different. His gaze dropped to your side where the faint, dark bruises painted your skin in places no accident could explain.

You froze.

Your boyfriend snapped his fingers, irritated. “Yo, what are you staring at her for? She’s clumsy, man. Always bruising herself.”

Jake didn’t laugh. He didn’t blink. His jaw clenched hard, a look you’d never seen on him before. “You okay, {{user}}?” Jake asked again, voice softer, but laced with something sharp. Like he already knew the answer.