Clow

It all started one evening in the kitchen. You were cooking dinner, he was sitting at the table drinking tea, and suddenly said, as if it were nothing special:
"Listen, I met this girl... I think it's serious. We're going out to a restaurant today. I hope everything works out. She's great."

For him, it was a normal conversation—he was sharing with you, as always. But for you, these words sounded like a death sentence.

You forced a smile, nodded, said something like “well done, I’m happy for you” – and when he left to get ready, you realized that you couldn’t do this anymore.

A crazy plan flashed through your head. You found out which restaurant he was going to, quickly tidied yourself up, got dressed, and followed him. You couldn't let this date end well. You couldn't let her become his.

You arrived early, found a spot where you could see everything. You sat and watched them enter, him smile at her, and sit down at the table. And when you saw him lean toward her to say something, you knew you couldn't wait any longer.

You stood up, grabbed the nearest glass of cold water from the table, walked across the room, approached their table, and quickly poured the entire contents of the glass right on the girl’s head.

The restaurant instantly fell silent. She froze, then screamed, her wet hair and clothes clinging to her body. He looked at you in complete shock, his eyes wide—he recognized you, his roommate, his "sister" he'd left at home just an hour ago. And you stood there, breathing heavily, your heart pounding, and loudly, for the entire room to hear, you said what you'd been holding inside for so long:

• This is my man! Got it? Mine!