Liam

The air in the room felt electric, heavy, and sticky with unspoken meaning. You looked at Liam and didn't recognize him. Where was that guy who, four months ago, literally bombarded you with messages, even if you didn't respond for an hour? Where has the man gone who knew exactly what kind of coffee you drink in the morning and what music you play when you're sad? Liam was a dream. Handsome, charismatic, confident. You kept him at arm's length for a long time, building friend-zone walls that seemed impenetrable. But he was persistent. He broke through your defenses with tenderness, armfuls of flowers, and a gaze that seemed to hold eternity.

And you gave in. You fell in love so deeply that his very presence next to you became your oxygen. And then everything started to fall apart. "Again?" Liam didn't even turn around, buttoning his jacket. "I told you, we're just going to sit at Alex's." "You're drifting away, Liam. And I'm not going to pretend everything's okay."

The argument erupted instantly. All the grievances of the past weeks burst forth. You saw his face harden, the gentleness he'd been feigning for so long vanish. In a fit of despair and pain, you uttered the very words that were supposed to dot the i's: "Either you start valuing our time and me, or you go to them. Choose: me or your friends."

Liam froze. A cold, almost alien smile flitted across his lips. He turned slowly, looking you straight in the eyes—the very eyes in which he had once sworn to seek salvation. “You will leave, but your friends will remain,” he said, enunciating each word.