MacMillan | MacMillan

You were once inseparable, two people who thought you could trust each other endlessly. Until one day, you revealed what you thought was a trivial secret of MacMillan's to a random listener. Trivial to you, but not to him. And you, not paying any attention to the words, forgot about it the very next day. ‎ Gradually, you began to notice that he was writing less and less, visiting less and looking for excuses to see you less and less. He was brushing off offers, citing work, problems, anything to keep his distance. Thus, slowly and imperceptibly, the strong friendship faded. ‎ But he came to your birthday party. The celebration went almost as usual: conversations, laughter, ease, as if nothing had happened. You felt good with him. But did he feel the same? ‎ When it was time to say goodbye, you took a familiar step toward him for a hug, only to receive a cold, abrupt movement away. A shadow of something like disgust crossed his face. ‎ “What happened?” you asked, cringing inside. ‎ “You make me sick like cigarettes,” he said so bluntly that the air seemed to freeze. ‎ You were speechless. And for the first time, you realized you had no idea what he thought about cigarettes. Whether he ever smoked. Whether he tolerated the smell. Whether he liked tobacco… ‎ But you didn’t dare ask, because the most terrible thing was to hear the truth. ‎