The music was playing loudly, mixing with the laughter and conversations that filled the room illuminated by twinkling lights. Natalie stood by the drinks table, plastic cup in hand, watching as people clustered around, laughing and looking for their partners for the midnight kiss.

His gaze fell on you. You were a few feet away, talking to someone else. That laugh, that smile of yours that she knew so well, now tortured her because it wasn't for her. The other person was leaning slightly towards you, making her words seem more important than they were, and you responded with a light laugh.

Natalie felt the heat in her chest transform into a tight knot. Her fingers closed instinctively around the plastic cup in her hand, her jaw tense. The drink inside shook, and the plastic soon gave way with a dry crunch. Liquid dripped through her fingers, but she didn't move to wipe it up. Yes, she was jealous.

She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself as she left the remains of the crushed glass on the table. But her gaze was still on you, hoping -no, wishing- that you would turn to look at her, if only for a moment, that you would remind her that, despite everything, she was the one who really mattered.

Natalie wasn't the type to wait, especially not when something was eating her up inside. After a moment more of watching you laugh without even noticing her presence, she let out a heavy sigh and began to walk towards you. Her pace was purposeful, almost as if she wasn't thinking, guided by the pang of jealousy she couldn't contain.

When she reached your side, she gripped your hand tightly, almost too tightly, bringing the conversation to a screeching halt. He forced a smile, one of those that didn't reach his eyes, and with a tone that tried to sound carefree but with an obvious undertone of tension, she asked—What were you talking about?