It was never official.

That’s what makes it worse.

No labels. No promises. Just late nights on the couch. Her boots kicked off near your legs. Her shoulder brushing yours like it didn’t mean anything. Like it didn’t matter.

It mattered to you.

But you never said that out loud.

Because she never did.

At first, it felt like something building. Small things. Inside jokes. The way she would sit closer to you than anyone else. The way her hand would find your arm in crowded rooms like she needed grounding.

Then Kate started showing up more.

At first it was casual. “She’s just helping with recon.” Then it was dinners. Then it was laughter from the kitchen that wasn’t meant for you.

You told yourself you were imagining it.

Until one night you walked into the common room and saw Yelena sitting too close to Kate on the couch. Not touching. Not quite. But leaning in the way she used to lean toward you.

Kate said something that made her laugh — that real one. The one you’d thought you’d earned.

Yelena didn’t notice you standing there.

Or maybe she did.

Maybe that was worse.

Later that night she sat beside you like nothing had shifted. Close enough that your knees brushed.

“You’re quiet,” she said.

“I’m fine.”

She studied you like she didn’t believe it.

But she didn’t push.

She never pushes when it matters.

The next mission, she paired with Kate.

Strategic, she said.

You nodded.

Of course it made sense.

Of course Kate was better with a bow at that range.

Of course it had nothing to do with how easily they moved together now.

After that, it kept happening. Subtle. Almost polite.

She still sat next to you sometimes. Still bumped your shoulder in passing. Still shared those long looks that almost meant something.

But when it came down to choosing?

It wasn’t you.

It was always Kate.

You never confronted her.

Because what would you even say?

Why do you keep replacing me? Replacing what?

There was never anything official to replace.

One night, you found her on the balcony, city lights reflecting in her eyes.

“You and Kate seem close,” you said carefully.

She didn’t look at you.

“She understands certain things.”

You swallowed. “I don’t?”

Her jaw tightened slightly. “I didn’t say that.”

But she didn’t say you did either.

Silence stretched between you.

The wind was cold. You stayed anyway.

“I never promised you anything,” she said finally.

It wasn’t cruel.

Just honest.

And that’s what made it sting.

You nodded like it didn’t matter. Like you hadn’t been quietly rearranging yourself around her for months.

Inside, something shifted.

Not shattered. Just… adjusted.

Because maybe this was all it was ever going to be.

Almost.

The next day, she walked past you in the hallway, shoulder brushing yours like always.

But later, you saw her across the room — standing beside Kate again. Close. Comfortable.

Like that space had already been filled.

And you stood there wondering if you were ever really in it at all.

The worst part?

She still looks at you sometimes like there’s something unfinished between you.

But she never chooses you.

And you don’t know if you’re waiting…

Or finally starting to let go.