Liam didn't notice when I stopped talking.
That was the first thing I learned that week.
We were sitting in his car, the same seats we'd shared a hundred times before, the same playlist humming softly in the background. He was driving, one hand on the steering wheel, the other tapping his phone screen every few seconds.
Claire. Claire. Claire again.
"Sorry," he said, smiling without looking at me. "She's asking what I want for dinner."
"It's fine," I replied.
It wasn't.
He used to ask me that question.
"What do you want to eat, Ava?"
"Do you feel like pasta?"
"Should we just order in?"
Now my name stayed silent between us, replaced by hers.
"She worries a lot," he added, as if explaining himself. "I think she just likes knowing where I am."
I nodded, staring out the window. "That's normal."
Normal. Another lie.
The truth was, I knew exactly where he was. I always had. And somehow, that had never been enough.
When we got to his apartment, I went straight to the kitchen like I belonged there. Because I did. Or at least, I used to.
Liam leaned against the counter, watching me the way he always had — relaxed, familiar. "You're quiet today."
"I told you. I'm tired."
"You always say that when something's wrong."
I laughed softly. "You don't know everything about me, Liam."
He frowned, like that thought hadn't crossed his mind before. "Of course I do."
No, you don't, I wanted to say.
You don't know that I memorise the sound of your footsteps.
You don't know that I know the exact moment you fall asleep on the phone.
You don't know that every time you say her name, something in me tightens painfully.
His phone buzzed again.
Claire.
He picked it up immediately.
I turned away.
***********************************************
Later that evening, we sat on opposite ends of the couch. Not because we were fighting — we never fought — but because something invisible had settled between us. Something with a name.
"Dinner on Saturday," he said. "She's excited to meet you."
I smiled automatically. "I'm excited too."
Another lie.
"Don't overthink it," he added. "You always do that."
I looked at him then. Really looked at him. The same boy who had held my hand when my parents separated. The same man who had slept on the floor of my hospital room because he didn't want me to wake up alone.
"Do you ever think," I asked carefully, "that things change even when you don't want them to?"
He shrugged. "Some things don't change."
He said it with so much confidence that it almost made me believe him.
Almost.
That night, I stood in front of my mirror longer than usual. Not because I wanted to look beautiful — but because I wondered when I had started fading into the background of my own life.
I imagined Claire sitting where I usually sat. Laughing at his jokes. Touching his arm the way I never allowed myself to.
She wouldn't have to pretend.
She wouldn't have to swallow her feelings and call it friendship.
She would be chosen.
My phone lit up.
Liam: Did I upset you today?
I stared at the screen.
So close.
So far.
Me: No. I'm okay.
There it was again. That sentence.
The one that kept me here.
As I put my phone down, I realised something that made my chest ache in a new way.
I wasn't just in love with my best friend.
I was slowly disappearing in his life.
And the worst part was — he was letting me.