I shouldn’t have looked at the photo again.

But I do.

Over and over. Like if I stare long enough, maybe it’ll make sense. Maybe it won’t sting as much.

You. Sitting at a café I’ve never heard you mention. Laughing. Leaning forward. And the guy? His hand’s way too close to yours.

The boys showed me earlier tonight. Airdropped it to me like it was a joke. “Oi, isn’t this your girl?”

I laughed it off. Shrugged. “Probably just a mate from work.”

But then the laughter stopped. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

So I went home early.

⸻

You’re sitting on the couch when I walk in. Wearing my hoodie. Like everything’s fine.

“Hey,” you say. “You’re back early.”

I nod. “Got tired.”

I can feel your eyes on me as I toe off my shoes, walk to the kitchen, pretend like my heart isn’t breaking open with every step.

“Everything okay?” You ask.

I stare at the fridge for a moment. Then I say it:

“Were you at a café yesterday?”

A beat. Just a second. But a second is all it takes to see the flicker of panic in your eyes.

“Oh…yeah,” you say too casually. “I just needed a break. Sat down to grab a coffee and answer some emails.”

Lie.

And you know it.

I give you a chance. I stand there, still, waiting for you to say more. Waiting for you to just tell me the truth. Even if it hurts.

But you don’t.

You pick up your phone. Pretend to scroll. Like I didn’t just hand you the opportunity to be honest and you spat it out.

I walk over, quiet.

Pull my phone out.

Turn the screen to face you.

You freeze.

And then the second betrayal: You smile. Force it. “That’s just someone I ran into. He used to go to my uni. We caught up for like, five minutes. That’s all.”

“Five minutes?” I ask, voice tight.

“Yeah.”

“He’s reaching for your hand.”

You blink. “He wasn’t. You’re seeing it wrong.”

I laugh bitter and soft. Not loud. Not angry. Just…tired.

“I gave you a chance to tell me.”

You open your mouth like you’re about to say something, but I shake my head.

“I wanted you to say it, Leyla. Whatever it was. I was ready to work through it. But you didn’t. You looked me in the eye and fed me a story you didn’t even bother making believable.”