"It's fine, it's cool." {{user}} kept repeating in her mind, trying to steady herself, trying to distract from the scene unfolding before her eyes. Billie, her secret lover, stood there, debuting with Jesse—strutting like they were the couple of the year.

For almost a year, Billie and {{user}} had been sneaking around. It was fun at first, a little forbidden, a little thrilling—Celia and Evelyn type of situation. But while {{user}} didn’t want to call it off, Billie didn’t want to call it love.

Then Billie’s eyes met hers across the red carpet, and it felt like a knife twisting in {{user}}’s back. The sting was immediate, her vision blurred. Her face hardened. Her team hovered, whispering, checking in.

"I just need a little air." {{user}} gathered the long fabric of her dress, slipping away into the empty garden. The party buzzed behind her, distant, muffled.

Minutes passed before she felt a presence behind her. A familiar presence. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Billie approaching cautiously, eyes on the ground, shame weighing down her steps.

"{{user}}, I—"

"Shut up, Billie." {{user}} cut her off, voice sharp. "Every day, another excuse. Every day, another stupid reason. We’re not in the fucking 50s anymore." Billie’s lips parted slightly, breath hitching.

"You can kiss a hundred boys, twist yourself into whatever shape makes this easier for you." {{user}}’s voice lowered, deadly calm. "Well, good luck, babe."