Chapter 1

"Ava, I only see you as a friend."

Ethan' s words were quiet, a gentle splash in the noisy bar, but they landed on me like a ton of bricks. He wouldn' t meet my eyes, staring instead at the half-empty beer bottle on the table between us. The charming smile he usually wore was gone, replaced by a tense, uncomfortable line.

I felt my own smile freeze on my face. It felt brittle, like it might shatter into a million pieces.

For years, our friendship had been a blurry, undefined thing. We shared everything-late-night talks, project deadlines, family dinners. We were Ava and Ethan, a single unit in everyone' s mind. I had let myself believe that the blurred lines meant something more, that they were slowly resolving into a clear picture of us, together.

I had just spent ten minutes pouring out years of hidden feelings, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. And his answer was five simple words.

Only a friend.

"Is that it?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "After all this time, all the moments that felt like... more?"

He finally looked at me, his expression full of a pity I didn' t want. "Those moments were great. You' re my best friend, Ava. I don' t want to lose that."

The phrase 'best friend' felt like a curse. It was a box he was putting me in, a safe, comfortable box where my feelings couldn't touch him.

I thought back to last Christmas. We were at my apartment, decorating the small tree I' d bought. Snow was falling outside, and we were tangled in fairy lights, laughing. He' d reached out and tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my cheek for just a second too long. His eyes had looked so warm, so full of something I had mistaken for love.

I had held onto that moment, replaying it in my mind like a favorite scene from a movie. Now, I saw it for what it was: a casual gesture from a friend. Nothing more. My entire love story was a film I had directed, starred in, and watched all by myself.

I stood up abruptly, the legs of my chair scraping loudly against the floor. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't sit there and look at his apologetic face for another second.

"I have to go," I mumbled, grabbing my purse.

I didn' t wait for his reply. I just ran. I pushed through the crowd, ignoring the press of bodies and the loud music. The cold night air hit me as I burst out onto the sidewalk, but it did nothing to cool the burning shame in my chest.

I ran until my lungs ached, until the city lights blurred through the tears in my eyes.

A man bumped into me, looking me up and down with a smirk. "Hey, what' s the hurry, beautiful? Slow down."

His voice was slick and unwelcome. I just shook my head and kept walking, faster this time.

The cruel truth settled deep in my bones. Ethan never loved me. He probably never would. All those years, I was just a comfortable habit, a reliable presence he never had to question. I was his friend.

I fumbled for my phone, my fingers shaking. I scrolled past Ethan' s name, my thumb hovering over it for a painful second. I couldn't call him. Who could I call?

My finger stopped on a name: Liam.

Liam Walker. My childhood friend. My deceased best friend Lily' s younger brother. He was always there, a quiet, steady constant in the background of my life. I hit the call button before I could second-guess myself.

He answered on the second ring. "Ava? What' s wrong?"

I tried to speak, but a sob broke through instead. I leaned against a cold brick wall, pictures flashing through my mind. I remembered a sketchbook from high school, filled with doodles for graphic design projects. On the last page, hidden away, was a detailed pencil sketch of Ethan, his head thrown back in laughter.

Years later, I' d been looking for an old design and he' d been at my apartment. He' d picked up that exact sketchbook. He flipped through it, a nostalgic smile on his face.

I held my breath as he reached the last page.

He paused. He looked at the drawing for a long time, his smile fading into something unreadable. He didn' t say a word about it. He just closed the book gently, set it down, and said, "You' ve always been so talented, Ava."

At the time, I thought his silence was a kind of quiet acknowledgment, a shared secret. Now I knew. It was just another moment he chose to ignore, another line he kept firmly in place.