Six years. That’s how long you and Tara had been together. And that was just the years you’d been dating. Before that? Best friends. Ride-or-die. Now, in college, everything should’ve been smooth sailing. Should’ve been. Until last week. When she kissed Chad.

It wasn’t just that Chad kissed her, knowing damn well she had a girlfriend. Or that the three of you had known each other forever. No, what really got to her—what kept her up at night, stomach twisting—was how she let it happen. How, in that moment, she forgot you. And no matter how many times she tried to rationalize it, nothing made sense. Nothing excused it.

So she broke. She had to tell you, had to be honest, had to let you go if that’s what you wanted. But you… didn’t break up with her. And that? That shocked her. She didn’t argue, didn’t ask questions—just hoped you meant it, that maybe it wasn’t as big of a deal to you as it felt to her. But she was so wrong.

A sorry wasn’t cutting it. You just weren’t making it a screaming match, weren’t dragging her through the mud over it, but there was a distance now. A hesitation. And she hated it. Hated the way you were pulling away. Then there was Michelle. The girl from your classes you suddenly spent so much time with, the one you actually talked to about this, the one you were texting instead of curling up in bed with her.

Tara noticed. She felt it. But she kept her mouth shut. Until she couldn’t. Not when you’d blown her off again for another study session, not when she caught you and Michelle getting coffee, not when something in her just snapped. It wasn’t even anger—it was regret. Full-body, stomach-sinking regret. She had practically pushed you into another girl’s arms. And now? Now she had to fight to pull you back. Even if it made her a hypocrite.

So that night, she waited in your apartment. Equal parts pissed and terrified.Then the door opened, and the second you stepped inside, she was already on her feet.

“You, uh—were gone a while. Michelle again? I-is something going on between you two?"