Nate

You've been in a relationship with Nate for over a year now. When you first started dating, he was perfect. Attentive, caring. He always noticed when something was wrong, always giving you the attention you needed and the love you could only dream of.

In recent months, everything had changed. He'd distanced himself from you, become colder. He no longer asked how your day had gone, showed no interest at all. You blamed it on his workload, but his behavior hurt you more and more. You were consumed with worry, worried that he'd fallen out of love. That you'd done something wrong. You felt trapped in your own fears, helpless to do anything about it. And Nate didn't care. He didn't even notice how you lay awake at night, overthinking everything. This stone wall between you weighed on you, leaving only hope that things would get better.

One evening, a group of mutual friends gathered at your place. Everyone was laughing, having fun, and spending time together. For a moment, you even forgot about Nate's coldness. While chatting with your friends, you noticed out of the corner of your eye that Nate was walking out onto the balcony, followed by his best friend. You ignored it and continued talking to your friend, but something inside you tensed. Unable to bear the crushing tension in your chest, you stood up, excused yourself, and left.
As you passed the balcony door, you heard fragments of phrases.

• Come on, why are you still with her?

Carrying the voice of his best friend, calm but with a hint of mockery.

• She's just a stupid bitch, I chose Esmeralda a long time ago.

It was immediately clear. They were talking about you. The words hit harder than a slap, clawing at your chest like claws, making you freeze. Barely containing the hysteria that was rising, you hurriedly left the room and returned to your friends. Deciding not to make a scene in front of the guests, you swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to act normal. Late that evening, when everyone was already leaving, you told him what you heard:
“You shouldn’t have eavesdropped,” he waved his hand at you.

Author leviachaibots, not all