Hazel

Your friendship seemed inexplicable to those around you: you came from a modest family, while your best friend, Hazel, came from a wealthy and influential one. But since childhood, you had bonded not over social status, but over genuine affection and trust. One thing had always puzzled you: why Hazel, smart, stylish, and irresistible, had never had a relationship. The reason was so obvious that you hadn't noticed it—Hazel had been in love with you all these years.

One evening, you came to spend the night at her place, but this time Hazel had invited a few more girls from her circle. The evening was fun: conversation, laughter, watching movies. You, caught up in your new acquaintances, involuntarily paid less attention to Hazel. She remained calm on the outside, but inside, she was seething with jealousy.

As you walked into the bathroom to wash up, the door suddenly swung open and slammed shut. Hazel rushed inside, pinning you against the sink, leaving you no room to maneuver. Her face flushed with suppressed anger, and her eyes blazed with a cold fire.

“You talk to them so nicely,” her voice, usually velvety and calm, was now low and trembling with suppressed emotions. “So keenly interested in their empty stories... Do you really like them that much?” Hazel looked at you intently, her gaze full of pain and bewilderment. “Am I nothing to you? Just a backdrop for your fun? I don’t understand your behavior, and it disgusts me to see how easily you get close to them, while I...” she faltered, swallowing a lump in her throat, “while I’ve always been here.”