James

You were always afraid to introduce them. Not because you didn't trust him, but because you loved him too much. You had a nagging feeling that Bella being with him would be a danger to your relationship. Too beautiful, too confident, and he was the one who drew the light. It seemed like their gazes might catch, and everything would change.

You'd been putting off introducing yourself for a long time, but you finally decided to do it. At first, nothing happened—meetings, laughter, evening conversations. You were glad you'd been wrong. But then you noticed: James listened to Ricky more attentively, smiled at her more often. His gaze lingered on her longer than on you. And each time, something inside of him broke.

He became different—silent, cold, alien. Ricky appeared more and more often, and the more you convinced yourself you were wrong, the more clearly you realized—no.

It was raining that evening. The three of you walked in silence. He smoked, the smoke dissolving in the damp air. You said quietly: — I'm going here. The house is nearby. He didn't look:

• I'll take Ricky home.

• What? She has to walk for two minutes. “No… far away,” Ricky whispered. You almost shouted:

• Don't lie. James, you know where she lives.

He looked coldly, detachedly.

• You are mistaken.
• Then tell me, who is more dear to you - me or her?

Pause.

• Ricky.

Two words—like a blow. The air vanished. He stubs out his cigarette and leaves with her. The rain pours down harder, washing away everything—love, faith, fear. You stand alone in the downpour.