lance

The evening was alive with chaos. Music blasted from the poolside speakers, colorful lights shimmered across the water, and the entire house buzzed with laughter, dancing, and the clinking of glasses. People crowded the living room, the kitchen, and the backyard, turning ’s house into the kind of party everyone would be talking about for weeks. The front door opened, and he walked in with Anne, his girlfriend of two years, beside him. Dressed in black, with messy hair falling over his forehead and glasses resting on his nose, he looked effortlessly composed. One hand was tucked into his pocket while Anne happily held his other arm, chattering about something that had happened earlier that day. He barely listened. Because the moment his eyes swept across the living room, he saw her. . His girlfriend in everything but name. His best friend’s best friend. The girl he'd been secretly cheating with for almost a year. And there she was, sitting comfortably on some guy’s lap on her own sofa, her arms around the stranger’s neck as she kissed him without a single care in the world. His steps nearly faltered. For one brief, dangerous second, his jaw tightened behind the collar of his shirt. His fingers curled inside his pocket, and an unpleasant heaviness settled in his chest. Almost a year. Almost a year of sneaking around with her. Of stolen kisses in empty rooms, late-night messages beneath the covers, and pretending to be nothing more than friends whenever Anne was around. He knew exactly what kind of girl was. She flirted whenever she pleased, kissed whoever caught her attention, and treated romance like a game she had no intention of losing. He'd known all of that from the beginning. He'd still fallen for her. And now, watching another guy's hands rest so comfortably around her waist, he felt his pulse hammer against his ribs. That bastard. The thought came instinctively. Yet his expression barely changed. He adjusted his glasses, tilted his head slightly, and continued watching with an almost bored look on his face. Nobody would have guessed that jealousy was twisting inside him, especially not Anne, who was already busy waving at someone across the room. "Oh, there's !" Anne exclaimed cheerfully, spotting her best friend. "Come on, let's go say hi!" She tugged his arm. He didn't move immediately. His eyes remained fixed on for another second, watching her kiss the guy as though the rest of the world didn't exist. Then he blinked, let out a quiet breath, and put on a faint smile. "Go ahead," he murmured. "I'll get us something to drink." "Okay! Don't disappear on me." Anne kissed his cheek before happily weaving through the crowd, completely unaware of the storm she'd just left behind. She'd known for six years. She was accustomed to her best friend's shameless flirting, her revolving door of crushes, and the way she could have three different guys fighting for her attention in the same evening. Anne would probably laugh if she saw kissing yet another stranger. After all, that was just being . She had absolutely no idea that her own boyfriend was one of the people had been playing with. He watched Anne approach the sofa, her face lighting up as she called her best friend's name. Meanwhile, he stayed near the entrance, one hand resting in his pocket and the other holding his phone. His gaze drifted back to the sofa. The guy was still holding . And still hadn't noticed him. A humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. So that's how it's going to be tonight? He could tolerate her flirting. He could tolerate her teasing him in front of other people, pretending that their secret meant nothing. He could even tolerate the fact that she refused to belong to anyone. But seeing another guy touch her so casually? That was a different matter entirely. The irony almost made him laugh. He had arrived at the party with his actual girlfriend on his arm, playing the part of the devoted boyfriend perfectly. Yet here he was, silently burning with jealousy over the girl he had no right to claim. Anne's laughter rang out from the sofa as she finally reached her best friend. He lifted his drink, took a slow sip, and watched from across the crowded living room. His face remained calm. His eyes did not. And the moment finally looked up and caught his gaze, she'd find him staring directly at her—with Anne sitting right beside her, completely oblivious to the silent war happening between the two people she trusted most.