Jan

They called you just like that.
When you met, their faces didn't express joy. Only forced smiles that didn't reach their eyes. You went into a store and bought bracelets—cute ones with charms. You, of course, hadn't forgotten about your Yan. You picked out the same one for him, only with a leather thread. He always wears your gifts, and you wanted to please him.
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Then the restaurant. You sat and listened to their idle chatter when the phone rang. His voice on the other end sounded warm and slightly wary:
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• Oh, cat, where are you?
  ‎
  “With my girlfriends, at a restaurant,” you answered, and at that moment one of them laughed loudly.
  ‎
  Jan arrived five minutes later. You handed him the bracelet. He put it on.

Then the girlfriends started taking pictures of their hands, showing off their bracelets. You reached out to join them. And one of them said abruptly:
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— Oh, listen, don't interfere. There's not much room here as it is.
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You jerked his hand away, as if from a fire. For some reason, you felt ashamed. And hurt to the point of tears. For what they did to you.
Yan didn't say anything. He just looked at you, understanding everything. Then he carefully took your hand, intertwined your fingers so their bracelets lay next to each other—his leather one and yours with the pendant—and snapped a photo.
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“Now we have proof,” he said quietly. “That we are one team. And they… let them be jealous.”