James

You had always been afraid to introduce them. Not because you didn't trust him—but because you loved him too much. A sticky feeling lived inside you, a sense that Bella would become a danger to your relationship. Too beautiful, too confident, and he was the kind of man who was drawn to the light. It felt as if their eyes could lock, and everything would change.

You put off the introduction for a long time, but eventually, you decided to do it. At first, it was nothing—meetings, laughter, evening conversations. You were glad you had been wrong. But then you noticed: James listens to Ricky more attentively, smiles at her more often. His gaze lingers on her longer than it does on you. And every time, something inside you broke.

He became different—silent, cold, a stranger. Ricky appeared more and more often, and the harder you tried to convince yourself that you were mistaken, the clearer it became—you weren't.

It was raining that evening. The three of you were walking in silence. He was smoking, the smoke dissolving into the damp air. You said softly:
"I'm getting off here. My house is nearby."
He didn't look at you:
"I'll walk Ricky home."

"What? It's a two-minute walk for her."
"No... it's far," Ricky whispered.
You almost screamed:
"Don't lie. James, you know exactly where she lives."

He looked at you coldly, detached.
"You're mistaken."
"Then tell me, who is dearer to you—me or her?"

A pause.
"Ricky."

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