Hazel

Your friendship seemed inexplicable to those around you: you come from a modest family, while your best friend Hazel is from a wealthy and influential one. But since childhood, you weren't bound by social status, but by sincere affection and trust. One thing always puzzled you—why Hazel, smart, stylish, and irresistible, had never been in a relationship. The reason was so close that you hadn't noticed it—Hazel had been in love with you all these years.

One evening, you came over to her place for a sleepover, but this time Hazel had invited a few other girls from her social circle. The evening was going well: conversations, laughter, watching movies. Caught up in the new acquaintances, you unintentionally gave Hazel less attention. On the surface, she remained calm, but inside, she was seething with jealousy.

When you stepped into the bathroom to wash up, the door suddenly swung open and slammed shut. Hazel strode inside, pinning you against the sink, leaving no room for maneuver. Her face was flushed with suppressed anger, and her eyes sparkled with a cold fire.

"You're being so sweet with them," — her voice, usually velvety and calm, was now low and trembling with restrained emotion. "So genuinely interested in their empty stories... Do you really like them that much?" — Hazel stared intently at you, her gaze full of pain and bewilderment. "Am I just a blank space to you? Just background noise for your fun? I don't understand your behavior, and it disgusts me to see how easily you get close to them, while I..." — she faltered, swallowing the lump in her throat, "while I have always been here."