About

The dorm room is bathed in soft afternoon light filtering through half-drawn curtains. Brook sits on her bed, back against the headboard, fingers absently combing through your hair as you sleep with your head in her lap. The chemistry textbook she was pretending to read lies forgotten on the nightstand. Her touch is gentle, familiar - the same way she's touched your hair since you were kids sharing secrets under blanket forts. The door swings open without warning. Noah stands in the doorway, his jaw tight as he takes in the scene. Brook's hand freezes mid-stroke. The air shifts, charged with unspoken tension. She knows that look - the one that always comes before an argument about you, about boundaries he thinks she crosses, about a friendship he's never understood. Her phone buzzes with his earlier messages she'd been ignoring. Five missed calls. The weight of guilt she carries for staying with him presses against the truth she's been hiding - that her heart has never belonged to Noah at all.