To dodge the endless parade of blind dates her parents set up, my best friend, Bridget, asked my boyfriend, Austin, to play the part of her fake partner. On a rainy evening, Austin left me stranded at the subway station just to drive across town and pick Bridget up from work. On my birthday, he canceled our dinner reservations to accompany Bridget back to her hometown to face her family. Whenever I voiced even the slightest grievance, Bridget’s eyes would instantly turn red with tears. “I’m so sorry, Kendall,” she would murmur, voice trembling. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t bother him ever again.” Seeing her distress, Austin would immediately frown, turning on me with sharp reprimands. “He was just doing her a favor. Why do you have to be so damn insecure?” “She’s your best friend. Stop being so petty.” Later, the three of us took a weekend trip together. While we were waiting in line at a cafe, two guys approached us, asking for our numbers—one for mine, and one for Bridget’s. Austin froze for a fraction of a second. Then, with sudden urgency, he grabbed Bridget’s hand, lacing his fingers through hers. “Sorry, man. She’s taken.” Standing right beside them, I simply smiled. He had fallen so deeply into the role that he had forgotten it was supposed to be a performance. And it was long past time for me to cut my losses. … I unlocked my phone, pulled up my Instagram QR code, and handed it to the stranger standing in front of me with an easy, practiced smile. Austin’s face instantly darkened. “Kendall, what the hell are you doing?” I glanced down at his hand, still tightly clasped with Bridget’s, their fingers intimately entwined. A cold, quiet laugh slipped from my throat. “You should focus on managing your own girlfriend.” Bridget startled, as if suddenly realizing the physical contact, and abruptly yanked her hand away from Austin’s grip. “Kendall, please don’t be mad,” she stammered, flustered. “Austin was just acting. You know that.” She nudged Austin’s elbow with a subtle, delicate gesture. Austin knitted his brows together, his voice dropping into that familiar, cool baritone that always sounded like a lecture. “All right, drop the attitude. You know it was just for show. Delete him right now. Exchanging contact info with random strangers—do you have any self-respect?” “For show?” Was it also just for show when he spent the last ten minutes meticulously peeling an entire bowl of prawns, only to slide the finished dish directly in front of Bridget without a second thought? The waiter arrived, placing the iced drinks I had ordered onto the table. Before the glass had even settled, Austin’s hand shot out, touching the chilled surface. He turned to Bridget, his tone shifting into something soft, almost reverent. “You can’t drink this.” “Your period is starting in a couple of days. You know you shouldn’t have anything cold.” I froze. Bridget let out a breathless gasp, her cheeks flushing pink. “You actually remembered?” Austin’s lips curved into a faint, self-satisfied smirk. “Of course. I downloaded that tracker app on my phone and marked every single cycle.” The words felt like shards of ice plunging straight through my chest. Beneath the wooden table, my hands curled into tight, trembling fists. In all the three years we had been together, Austin had never once remembered my cycle. Even on the nights when cramps had me curled on the bathroom floor, gasping for breath, the most he had ever offered was a detached, “Go drink some hot water.” Before I could swallow down the bitter sting rising in my throat, Bridget’s phone chimed. It was a FaceTime call from her mother. Bridget chatted for a few seconds before naturally, effortlessly, angling the screen toward Austin. “Hi, Mrs. Thornton. It’s Austin,” he said. He leaned forward, his posture softening into an instinctive deference that I had never seen before. His voice was gentle, polite, attentive to a fault, patiently answering every mundane question her mother threw his way. I watched him in silence, a heavy wave of memory crashing over me. Just last week, my own mother had flown in from out of state to visit. Austin had worn a cold, stony expression the entire weekend. Whenever my mother tried to strike up a cheerful conversation, he offered nothing more than clipped, monosyllabic answers, constantly checking his watch before finally excusing himself to the home office under the pretext of an urgent deadline. Austin ended the call, set down the phone, and looked at me across the table. “Next weekend is Bridget’s company retreat,” he said casually. “I need to go with her.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a discussion. It was a unilateral announcement. In the past, whenever my firm organized an annual retreat or a holiday party, I had begged him to come with me. Every single time, he had shot me down without hesitation, claiming he detested crowds and would rather spend his weekend sleeping in. I set my fork down with a quiet “clink”. A profound sense of emptiness washed over me. When had it happened? When did every one of his protective instincts, his subconscious priorities, and his tender allowances become exclusively reserved for Bridget? My phone buzzed against my leg. It was an email from my regional director. “Kendall, another senior associate just applied for the transfer to the Denver branch. This is a massive leap for your career track. I urge you to reconsider before I submit the final name.” The company was expanding, opening a brand-new regional hub—an incredible promotion that came with a department lead title. My boss had offered it to me three times, and three times I had turned it down. Because I couldn’t bear the thought of long-distance with Austin. Looking at him now, I felt an overwhelming wave of self-mockery. I had rearranged my entire future around a man whose heart was already occupied. My thumbs moved quickly across the screen. “Director Miller, I’ve made up my mind. I accept the transfer.” Bridget, ever perceptive, caught the sudden shift in my silence. She reached across the table, tugging softly at my sleeve, her voice pitched high and innocent. “Kendall, please don’t overthink this. Austin is only coming along to keep the creepy guys in my department away. There’s really nothing going on between us. Please don’t take it to heart.” Austin frowned at my lack of response, his patience thinning. “All right, that’s enough. Stop dwelling on minor details. Didn’t you say you wanted to check out that new immersive escape room downtown?” I didn’t argue. I rose from the table like a ghost, following the two of them out into the crisp afternoon air. When we arrived at the venue, the front desk informed us that the horror-themed room required a minimum of four players; because the slots were fully booked, we would have to merge with another group. When the other two players walked over, my breath caught. It was the two guys from the cafe. Recognizing me, the one who had asked for my Instagram—Caleb—brightened instantly. “Hey, what a coincidence! Our other friends bailed on us last minute,” he said, offering a warm, easy smile. “If things get too terrifying in there, you can stick close to me. I’ll make sure you get out in one piece.” The gentle, unpretentious warmth in his tone brought a faint, genuine curve to my lips. Across from us, Austin’s jaw clenched tight. He lunged forward, gripping my wrist with bruising force and yanking me a few paces away from the group. “Stay the hell away from him,” he hissed under his breath. “I’m right here. Why would you need some random stranger protecting you?” For one fleeting, pathetic second, a tiny ember of longing flickered in the dark corners of my chest. That warmth shattered into dust the moment the steel doors locked behind us. Ten minutes into the labyrinth, the lights cut out, and a blood-soaked actor burst from a hidden panel in the wall. Bridget and I flinched at the exact same second. Austin didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even look in my direction. In a single, fluid motion, he stepped across the narrow corridor, wrapping his arms securely around Bridget. He pulled her entirely against his chest, his large hands clamping over her eyes, shielding her from the darkness as he whispered frantic, soothing words into her hair. “I’ve got you. Don’t look. You’re safe.” The ambient screams and the blaring sirens faded into static. I stood alone in the dim shadows, watching the man who claimed to love me shield another woman with his entire body. Whatever fragile illusions I had desperately clung to withered and died right there on that cold concrete floor. I let out a breathless, soundless laugh. “I’ll protect you.” What a joke. I had actually let myself believe he meant it. “Not bad, Kendall. You didn’t even flinch,” Austin remarked casually once the game ended and we stepped back into the bright lobby. He raised an eyebrow, half-teasing. “Didn’t hear a peep out of you.” I offered him a hollow, distant smile. He hadn’t looked at me once during the entire hour. How could he possibly know whether I was terrified? Besides, compared to the slow, agonizing death of watching the man you love choose someone else by instinct, what was a simulated monster in the dark? Exiting the facility, we wandered toward an artisan boutique exhibition down the street. Inside the central display sat a limited-edition blown-glass star lantern—a piece I had fawned over on social media for months. Because of the holiday event, the gallery was running a couple’s challenge: only pairs who completed a series of puzzle checkpoints together could win the exclusive commemorative piece. I took a breath, about to speak, when Austin naturally took Bridget by the elbow, steering her straight toward the registration desk. The event coordinator smiled, reviewing the rules. “To verify that you’re an authentic couple, we require a kiss before we hand over the scorecard.” Bridget lowered her head, the tips of her ears turning crimson, her eyes darting toward Austin with a shy, breathless hesitation. Austin paused for a beat. Then, leaning down with effortless grace, he pressed a tender, lingering kiss onto the center of Bridget’s forehead. A cold numbness rushed through my veins, freezing me where I stood. Austin turned his head, his gaze finally catching mine. I had expected a flicker of guilt, a hurried excuse, an apology—anything. Instead, his eyes barely shifted, his voice utterly level. “The course involves a lot of running between rooms. It takes physical endurance.” “You get winded easily. Don’t push yourself. We’ll win the lantern and bring it out for you.” Bridget chimed in immediately, her voice dripping with sweet devotion. “Exactly, Kendall! Don’t worry at all. Austin and I are going to give it everything we’ve got.” “After all, you’re the most important person in the world to both of us.” “The most important person.” The words landed on my skin like dirty water. A pretty little veil, carefully tailored to disguise an illicit intimacy as an act of selfless generosity on my behalf. Neither of them had ever truly seen my humiliation. Neither of them cared about the bleeding wounds they left behind. I didn’t answer. The moment the glass doors closed behind them as they entered the challenge hall, I pulled out my phone, booked the next one-way flight back to my apartment, turned on my heel, and walked away. The second the plane touched down on the tarmac, my phone exploded with a barrage of notifications, voicemails, and missed calls. Before I could even clear the screen, Austin’s name flashed across the display once more. I stared at the glowing letters for a long moment before sliding my thumb across the screen. “Kendall! Where the hell are you?” His voice was ragged, laced with a panic that instantly curdled into fury the moment I spoke. “I’m at the airport. I flew home.” “Home?!” he roared through the receiver. “Kendall, Bridget is in the parking lot having a full-blown panic attack because she thinks something happened to you! You’re telling me you just abandoned us and went home?!” “Can you stop throwing these pathetic, childish tantrums for once in your life?” “Childish tantrums.” He used that phrase whenever I refused to play my assigned part in their little drama. He genuinely believed I was obligated to sit quietly, smiling like an idiot while he played the devoted protector to my best friend, swallowing the lie that it was all just a harmless favor. Did he think I was blind? Did he think I was completely devoid of human dignity? “Austin,” I said, my voice dropping to a calm, quiet hush. I took a slow breath, the air filling my lungs with a strange, unprecedented clarity. “Let’s break up.” Without waiting for his response, I ended the call. Within ten seconds, Bridget’s number flashed on the screen. I held down the power button and shut the phone off entirely. That night, just as I was preparing to turn off the bedside lamp, the sound of a key grinding into the deadbolt echoed through the silent apartment. Austin pushed the door open, with Bridget trailing half a step behind him. Bridget’s eyes were swollen, rimmed with red. The moment she saw me sitting on the sofa, she rushed forward, her voice breaking into a wet sob. “Kendall, I’m so sorry. Is this because Austin and I have been spending too much time together? Did I make you feel left out?” I sat motionless, watching her performance with deadened eyes. Seeing my complete lack of reaction, Bridget wiped furiously at her cheeks, pulled out her phone, and opened her Instagram profile. “Look, Kendall,” she cried, holding the screen up to my face. “I’m posting it right now. I’m telling everyone I’m completely single, and I promise I will never, ever ask Austin to help me pretend again. Is that okay? Will you please forgive us?” She showed me the draft, tapped “Share”, and then burst into tears, turning and running out the door as if she were the ultimate martyr. The heavy front door clicked shut. The apartment fell dead silent, leaving only Austin and me. Austin’s brows were knotted into a tight, furious ridge. The look he gave me was thick with exhaustion and disgust. “Are you satisfied now?” “Did you really have to drag this out and make everything so repulsive?” “Bridget is out there crying her eyes out because of your insecurity. Do you possess even a shred of basic empathy?” The dam broke. The exhaustion, the grief, the humiliation of the past six months rushed behind my eyes, and a single, hot tear spilled over my lashes, tracing a slow line down my cheek. Seeing me cry, Austin froze. His angry posture instantly deflated. He let out a long, weary sigh, crossing the room until he stood over me. Slowly, he reached down, his fingers lightly brushing through my hair in a gesture of practiced comfort. “All right. Stop crying.” “I promise you, from now on, I’ll keep my distance from Bridget.” “Just let this go, okay? Don’t hold onto it.” His voice was soft, patient, carrying the exact cadence that used to melt every defense I had. But this time, nothing stirred. The soil inside me was completely barren. Glancing at my phone, which I had powered back on, I saw the confirmation email from HR: a morning flight to Denver, departing in less than thirty-six hours. I tapped the screen and typed a single word: “Confirmed.” The following evening, Austin and I sat across from one another at the dining table, eating what would be our final dinner together. I had barely taken two bites when his phone vibrated violently against the wood. Austin answered, listening for less than three seconds before his fork clattered against the porcelain plate. “Bridget’s in trouble.” Without another word—without even pausing to put on a jacket or proper shoes—he bolted through the front door, slamming it behind him. A cold adrenaline spiked through my head. Driven by an automatic, residual instinct, I grabbed my keys and ran out after him. By the time I caught up to him two blocks away, Bridget was cornered against a brick wall near the entrance of a dimly lit alley, a strange man gripping her forearm, trying to drag her into the shadows. Austin let out a feral roar, charging forward like a madman. In a flurry of violent shoves and wild punches, he sent the man stumbling back into the street, fleeing into the night. I stepped forward, my chest heaving, reaching out a hand toward Bridget to check if she was hurt. Bridget flinched, dodging my touch entirely. Instead, she threw herself fully into Austin’s chest, wrapping her arms around his neck in hysterical tears. “Austin… someone followed me all the way from the train. I was so scared…” Austin stroked her back with frantic tenderness, his voice trembling with protective rage. “I’m here. It’s okay. You’re safe now.” “Bridget, are you—” “Shut up!” Austin’s vicious bark cut me off entirely. He whipped his head toward me, his eyes blazing with an unhinged, accusatory venom. “Are you happy now?” “Look at her! If I hadn’t made it in time, do you have any idea what would have happened to her tonight?!” He glared at me as if I were a murderer standing over a crime scene. “If you hadn’t thrown your petty, selfish fit yesterday and forced me to cut contact with her, she wouldn’t have been walking home from work alone in the dark! If she had been assaulted tonight, how would you have lived with your conscience?!” I stood beneath the flickering streetlamp, completely paralyzed. Through the dim, yellow haze, I caught a glimpse of Bridget’s face buried against Austin’s shoulder. For one fleeting fraction of a second, her tear-stained lips curled into a sharp, triumphant smile. In that quiet, terrible moment, a profound realization settled over me. My entire youth, the three years I had devoted to this man, the loyalty I had offered to that friendship—it had all been a grotesque, pathetic joke. “Bridget is severely traumatized. I’m taking her back to her place,” Austin said, his arm locked tight around her waist. He cast a single, frigid glance in my direction. “Walk down to the 24-hour pharmacy on 4th Street and pick up some sedative herbal tea and sleep aids, then bring them over to her apartment.” He didn’t wait for my answer. He didn’t care that the streets were pitch-black. He didn’t care that the predator he had just scared off might still be lurking around the corner. It never once crossed his mind that I, too, was a woman walking home alone in the dark. I dragged my leaden feet away, turning my back on them. I didn’t go to the pharmacy. I walked straight back to our apartment. My eyes swept slowly across the living room—the framed photos on the bookshelf, the matching coffee mugs by the sink, the throw blanket we had picked out together. Every square inch was suffocating, thick with the ghosts of a life that no longer belonged to me. I couldn’t breathe. Without pausing for a single second, I grabbed my pre-packed suitcases, walked out the door, and caught a cab to the airport transit hotel. “Where are you? Why aren’t you at Bridget’s yet?” “Does it take half an hour to buy tea and pills?” Two consecutive text banners flashed across my screen from Austin. I didn’t reply. I opened his contact card, bypassed the block button, and permanently hit “Delete”. Across the city, sitting on Bridget’s living room sofa, Austin stared at his screen, waiting for an answer. Growing impatient, he hit the voice call button. A split second later, a harsh system dialog popped up across his display: “Message failed to send. You are no longer connected with this user.” Austin froze, the air leaving his lungs in a sudden, disbelieving gasp.
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