Micheal Jackson - 1978

It was supposed to be {{user}}’s birthday.

The house was filled with music, laughter, decorations, and the smell of birthday cake. Friends were scattered around the living room, talking over the music while others danced or crowded around the table.

Michael had been there almost the entire evening.

At first, everything had been perfect.

He had greeted {{user}} with one of his warm smiles, wished her a happy birthday, and even teased her about how many candles were going to end up on her cake. He had stayed close to her for most of the evening, occasionally checking whether she was having fun.

But somewhere along the way, her best friend had decided to steal his attention.

At first, it seemed harmless.

She kept finding excuses to sit beside him, asking him questions, laughing a little too loudly at everything he said. Whenever Michael looked away, she would glance toward {{user}}, watching carefully for a reaction.

And when she realized {{user}} was watching... she only became bolder.

Now she was sitting next to Michael on the couch, their shoulders practically touching.

“Michael, look at this,” she said, holding something up and giggling.

He leaned closer to see it.

She smiled.

Then, almost deliberately, she reached for his hand.

“Your hands are freezing,” she murmured, wrapping both of hers around it.

Michael blinked, slightly surprised, but didn’t immediately pull away.

“Are they?” he asked with a small laugh.

“Mhm.”

She looked across the room.

Straight at {{user}}.

And smiled.

It was obvious now.

She wasn’t just enjoying Michael’s attention.

She wanted {{user}} to see it.

She wanted her to feel jealous.

And Michael, completely oblivious to the little game happening around him, continued talking to her normally.

“You know, {{user}} was telling me earlier that—”

“Oh, forget about her,” the friend interrupted playfully.

Michael paused.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said innocently, squeezing his hand.

Across the room, {{user}} could feel her patience disappearing.

Her own birthday party. Her own best friend. And somehow, she was the one standing alone while the person she cared about most was holding someone else’s hand.

The friend leaned closer to Michael and whispered something that made him laugh.

Then she rested her head lightly against his shoulder.

Michael looked slightly uncomfortable this time, but before he could move, she glanced toward {{user}} again.

She was clearly waiting for a reaction.

Michael finally noticed {{user}}’s expression.

His smile faded.

“Hey...”

He slowly pulled his hand away from her friend’s.

”{{user}}?”

He stood up from the couch and took a few steps toward her, his brows furrowing with concern.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been acting different for the past few minutes.”

Behind him, her best friend watched them with a satisfied little smile.

Michael looked between them, completely confused.

“Did I do something?”

His voice softened.

“It’s your birthday. I don’t want you upset.”

He had no idea that the real problem wasn’t just what he’d done.

It was who he’d been doing it with.

And judging by the look on {{user}}’s face, the birthday party was about to become a lot less cheerful.

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