At first, it was just small things. Damien began pulling away, disappearing into his own world with Jenna. He'd rush off between classes, always in a hurry to meet her, and during lunch, he no longer sat with Alina. Instead, he joined his new group of friends; Jenna right there with him.
He stopped sitting with her at lunch. Stopped texting first. Stopped looking at her like she was still part of his world. He wasn't cruel. That would've been easier to swallow. No, he was nice; the kind of nice that pretends nothing's wrong while your whole chest is burning. Their jokes faded, their late-night rants vanished, their rituals withered. And every time she reached for what they used to have, it slipped through her fingers like water, and God, it fucking hurt.
Alina noticed it first, of course. She always did. Her gut had a way of screaming the truth long before people did. So, when Jenna started dating him, she watched carefully. At first, Jenna played the part of the sweet, friendly girlfriend. She'd smile at Alina in the hallways, ask about school, and even sit with her during lunch. Alina tried to be gracious, to be the bigger person—Damien was happy, and if Jenna made him smile, Alina would try to see the good in her.
But it didn't take long for Alina to feel something was off. Jenna's kindness always felt... rehearsed.
One day at lunch, Jenna leaned over with that practiced smile of hers. "Alina," Jenna chirped one afternoon, her voice sugary enough to rot teeth. "Your skin is so... unique. I've always wondered what it'd be like to have skin like yours."
Alina blinked. The hell was that supposed to mean?
"Thanks," she said flatly.
Jenna giggled, light and empty. "Oh, no, I didn't mean it in a bad way! It's just... different. The texture. You must have to use, like, a lot of stuff to keep it from getting rough, right?"
Alina bit down on her own tongue. "I use what works. Like everyone else."
"Well, it's... cool, I guess," Jenna said, tossing her hair with that same performative grace. "Different, but cool."
Every syllable was a dagger dipped in sugar. And Damien? Sitting right there, just fucking smiling. Like everything was peachy.
It didn't stop. The jokes, the side-eyes, the "oops" microaggressions stacked like knives in Alina's back.
Days passed, and Jenna's comments grew more frequent, more pointed. If Alina made a joke, Jenna's laugh was always too sharp, too mocking, as if she were ridiculing rather than sharing a laugh. And when the group was together, Alina noticed how Jenna would subtly push her aside; pretending she wasn't there, or speaking over her as if her opinions didn't matter.
Then came the project. Alina poured days into that damn assignment, researching, editing, refining until her eyes ached. And Jenna—who wasn't even in the group—suddenly had ideas. Suggestions.
"This is cute," Jenna said, looking at Alina's work like it was finger paint. "You tried really hard. But it's a little all over the place, isn't it?"
Alina's mouth went dry. "It's done. It's fine."
"Let's just clean it up a little. Don't worry, babe and I got this." Babe. Damien stood there like a fucking statue, smiling, nodding, completely blind.
The next day? Her slides butchered. Her points rewritten. Her name practically erased.
"You must've been tired when you did it," Jenna said with a little laugh. "Don't worry. We saved it."
Saved it? Saved it?
The rage twisted inside Alina like a blade. But what cracked her heart wasn't Jenna; it was Damien. His smile. His agreement. His silence.
He had let it happen.
And then... the hair comment.
"Oh my God," Jenna said one day, staring at Alina's curls with theatrical concern, "Have you ever considered, like, straightening it? I feel like it'd be easier for you. Less... wild."
Alina's blood turned to fire.
That was it.
"Damien," she said, her voice low, tight.
He turned, still clueless. "Yeah?"
"I need to talk to you. Now."
"What's going on?"
"This bullshit has gone on long enough," she snapped. "You need to stop pretending everything's fine between me and Jenna."
He frowned. "What are you talking about? You guys are cool, right? You've been acting fine—"
"Fine?" Her voice cracked. "You think I've been fine? She's been tearing me down piece by piece, and you've done nothing. You're too busy worshiping the ground she walks on to see the knives she's been sticking in my back!"
"Whoa, whoa—Alina, calm down," Damien said, holding up a hand. "You're blowing this way out of proportion. She's just jokin—"
"Joking?!" Alina screamed. "That's not fucking joking, Damien! She's humiliating me. Undermining me. Making me feel like shit every goddamn day. And you; you just stand there and let her!"
Damien's jaw clenched. "Jesus, Alina. Why are you acting like this? Are you seriously jealous because I have a girlfriend now?"
The silence was deafening.
"Jealous?" she whispered, a stunned breath of disbelief. "You think I'm doing all this because I'm... jealous?"
She stepped closer, her voice trembling with the weight of her words. "I don't care about who you date! I care about how you've been treating me, how Jenna has been treating me. And you've done nothing about it."
Damien scoffed, stepping back, his arms crossed defensively. "You're just acting like a child. You want me all to yourself, don't you? You've always been like this. Why do you think I've been avoiding you more lately? You can't stand that I have a life outside of you."
The words cut deeper than anything Jenna had said. Alina's chest tightened with hurt and anger. "You think I'm jealous because you have a girlfriend? Let me make something clear: I don't want a boyfriend, Damien. I care about the way you've been treating me. And I care about the way she's been treating me. And you've done nothing about it."
Damien's expression darkened, but instead of apologizing, he laughed bitterly. "Grow up, Alina. I don't owe you anything."
Alina's heart was shattered, but her voice rang out, steady and unwavering. "I'm done being silent, Damien. I'm done letting you walk all over me. You've been my best friend, and I've been here for you through everything. But you can't even see how toxic she is, can you?". "You don't get it, do you?" Alina whispered, her voice trembling as tears streamed down her cheeks. "This isn't about me wanting you all to myself. It's about you not trusting me. About you not believing me. I've been there for you every step of the way, and now, I'm begging you to see what she's doing... and you're throwing it all away. For her."
Damien's gaze was cold, his face unreadable. Confusion and anger flickered in his eyes, but the hurt in Alina's voice seemed to slip right past him.
"I don't know what you want from me, Alina," Damien muttered, his tone distant. "You want me to pick you? Fine, I'll pick you. But you won't be happy with that. So just fucking drop it okay? I'm done."
The words hit Alina like a tidal wave, dragging her under with their weight. He wasn't just dismissing her. He was choosing Jenna over her, over their years of friendship, and it shattered her. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but instead, she just stood there, feeling numb as her heart cracked open.
"Fine," she whispered, voice breaking, "If that's how it's going to be, then we're done, Damien. I'm done! "
Without another word, Alina turned and walked away, the tears blurring her vision as the world around her crumbled. Her heart felt like it was falling apart, piece by piece, with every step she took away from him.
That night, Alina found herself alone in her room, surrounded by silence. The tears wouldn't stop. Each sob felt like it tore her apart a little more. Her body felt heavy, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on her chest. She had trusted Damien more than anyone, and yet he had chosen Jenna and the lies over their friendship. It hurt more than she could ever put into words.
Her mother found her later, sitting on the bed, her face buried in her hands. Without a word, she sat beside Alina and pulled her into an embrace. Alina didn't need to say anything; her mom already knew.
"Sweetheart..." her mother whispered, her voice gentle. "I'm so sorry."
Alina shook her head, her voice shaking with each word. "Damien... he doesn't care. He doesn't trust me. I've been telling him the truth, and he's choosing her over me. Over everything we've had."
Her mother held her tighter, the weight of the situation heavy in the air. Alina's heart felt shattered, and she didn't know how to pick up the pieces.
"I'll never forgive him. Not for this." Alina's voice was firm, though her anger couldn't mask the deep sadness that lingered beneath. "I'll never forget what he did. I don't want to see him again."
Damien sat at his desk, the room around him spinning. Alina's words echoed in his mind, the finality of her voice ringing in his ears. "I'm done."
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room, frustration and confusion tearing at him. His heart ached with the thought that he might have just lost her forever, but a part of him still couldn't shake the feeling that it was her fault. Why had she pushed him away like that? Why did it feel like she had destroyed everything just because he had moved on?
Damien's mind kept circling back to Jenna, the girl who had filled the empty spaces in his life. But now, as the silence between him and Alina stretched on, he couldn't help but feel the weight of his decisions pressing on his chest. Alina had been right. But admitting it felt like swallowing broken glass.
The next few days were filled with an aching void. Neither Damien nor Alina spoke. The silence between them was suffocating. Their parents tried to intervene, to mediate, but the distance between them was too great. Neither of them knew how to bridge the chasm that had formed between them.
At the dinner table one evening, Damien sat across from his mother, his head lowered in defeat. His mother, always perceptive, watched him carefully.
"You should talk to her, Damien," she said softly, her concern palpable. "You've been through so much together. You can't just let it end like this."
Damien sighed, guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders. His mother reached over, her hand resting on his.
"I know it's difficult," she said gently, "But if you love her, if you care about your friendship, you owe it to both of you to try."
Damien swallowed hard, the weight of her words sinking in. "I don't know if I can fix it. It feels like everything's broken."
Weeks passed, and just as Alina had predicted, Damien received the text from Jenna: "Let's end this here. It's not you, it's me."
Alina didn't care. Or at least, that's what she told herself. She had long stopped following the drama between them. Her world had moved on. She had to focus on herself—her studies, her future, her dreams. When she heard about Jenna, it was like a distant echo, a hollow feeling that lingered for a moment before disappearing into the background.
Months passed in a blur, the seasons changing without a second glance, and Alina felt like the world had moved on without her, or perhaps she had simply let it go. Her life felt like a different world now; one where Damien no longer had a place. It was almost as if the years they had spent together had been erased, wiped away by one cruel choice, and the silence that followed. She couldn't help but replay the moments in her mind, the way he had dismissed her, the coldness in his eyes when she had needed him the most.
Alina stood in front of her mirror, staring at her reflection as the weight of the acceptance letter to Yale finally sank in. It was her dream school. She had worked so hard for this, fought for it in ways no one would ever understand, but even as the excitement rushed through her, there was a lingering emptiness. The happiness was there, but it felt like a distant memory, overshadowed by the bitterness that still lingered from the past.
"Congratulations, Alina," she whispered to herself, trying to smile through the ache in her chest. But it didn't come. Nothing felt real anymore, not the accomplishment, not the people around her, and certainly not her future. It was as if everything she had worked for had come with a price, and she was paying for it with the loss of something far greater than she could have imagined.
Damien.
That name echoed in her mind like a haunting melody she couldn't escape. It was a cruel joke. How could she still think about him after everything? After the way he had chosen Jenna over her, after everything he had done, after the way he had turned his back on their friendship and betrayed her trust? It had been months since that day—the day she had walked away from him, her heart shattered, her trust in him ripped apart. And yet, here she was, still carrying him with her, unable to shake the memories.
She closed her eyes, letting the sting of his absence hit her all over again. His face, his voice, his smile—all of it felt like a distant dream. How could someone she had once been so close to become so... foreign? It was as if he had never mattered. But deep down, she knew that wasn't true. No matter how hard she tried to forget, no matter how much she told herself that she was better off without him, the truth was undeniable. Damien had been a part of her life for so long, woven into every moment, every heartbeat, every dream. And now, she had to erase him.
The sound of her phone buzzing brought her out of her thoughts, and she glanced down at the screen. A message from her mother. "Are you okay, darling?"
Alina swallowed the lump in her throat, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she considered what to say. What could she possibly tell her mother? That she was drowning in memories of someone who had walked away from her when she needed him the most? That she had spent sleepless nights reliving every moment they had shared, every fight, every word, wondering where it all went wrong?
No. She couldn't say that. She couldn't admit that she still cared, still hurt, still longed for a time when things had been simpler, when Damien had been her best friend. When they had been everything to each other.
"I'm fine," she typed, her fingers shaking as she hit send. It was a lie. But it was the only one she could tell.