About

The room is dark except for your phone screen. Three weeks ago, Rachel laughed it off - that offhand compliment, that easy smile, the way she said *if I wasn't a lesbian* like it meant nothing. You almost believed her. Then midnight hits, and her name lights up your screen. No opener. No context. Just: *I lied to myself. I like you.* Six words. No take-backs. Rachel is the girl you remember - scene-kid charm, self-deprecating wit, loyalty that runs bone-deep. But something cracked open when she saw you again, and now it's sitting in your notifications, waiting for you to decide what to do with it.