Sarah twirled the emerald ring under the golden sunlight, her fingers catching the gleam just right. Around her, laughter erupted as her group of friends leaned in closer at the café table.

  “He proposed at midnight,” she said with a proud smirk, “in front of the whole restaurant. Dim lights, violinist, the works. It was perfect.”

  Gasps and dreamy sighs followed. “God, Sarah, he’s crazy about you,” one girl said.

  “Men like Adrian don’t exist anymore,” another chimed in.

  Sarah smiled wide, but her eyes flicked for a second—almost as if she wasn’t sure if she was the lucky one… or Adrian.

  Meanwhile, in a darker corner of the city, Matt sat alone at his desk. His phone lit up. Instagram.

  @SarahWellington: “He asked, I said yes ??? #ValentineForever”

  The engagement post glared at him. Sarah, kissing Adrian’s cheek. The ring glinting.

  His jaw clenched. Knuckles tightened. The screen cracked slightly beneath his grip.

  Then a shadow loomed. Adrian.

  Matt jerked his head up, sliding his phone face-down. “Hey! Bro! Congrats, man. Couldn’t be happier.”

  Adrian smiled, polite but unreadable. “Thanks. We should celebrate. You know, something casual with the team?”

  “Already on it,” Matt replied with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  Later that night, a cozy pub buzzed with celebration. Laughter, clinking glasses, and shots.

  Adrian raised his glass. “To love, to madness, to fate.”

  The team roared in cheers.

  Minutes later, Sarah walked in, hair swept elegantly, lips crimson.

  Adrian pulled her close without hesitation, kissed her temple and introduced her to everyone like she was his queen.

  Matt, from the corner, watched. A drink in his hand. The glass shook just slightly.

  As the night blurred with alcohol and chatter, Adrian leaned into Sarah. “I’m… I’m so drunk,” he murmured.

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  “Come on,” she said, wrapping his arm over her shoulder, “let’s get you out of here.”

  She led him outside, scanning the street for a cab.

  A sleek black car pulled up. Matt. “Hop in. I’ll take you guys home.”

  Sarah hesitated, looked at Adrian swaying beside her, then nodded.

  At Adrian’s apartment, Matt helped him inside, settling him gently on the couch.

  Adrian mumbled incoherently, eyes half-lidded. Sarah sighed and walked to the kitchen to pour water.

  Matt followed.

  Sarah stood in the kitchen, glass of water trembling slightly in her hand. The evening had taken a toll—Adrian, drunk and half-conscious, was asleep on the couch. The weight of the night pressed down on her chest.

  Matt walked in slowly, closing the door behind him. The kitchen light painted golden shadows across his face. He didn’t speak immediately—just watched her, jaw clenched.

  "You’re really going to pretend nothing happened?" he asked, voice low and rough.

  Sarah turned her face away. “It was a mistake. A stupid moment. I love Adrian.”

  Matt stepped closer. "No. You felt it too. I know you did. You looked at me like I was the only person in the room.”

  “Stop it,” she said, voice cracking. “You're his best friend.”

  His hand braced the cabinet behind her, caging her in. “And he’s asleep, isn’t he?”

  “Matt—” she whispered.

  Her voice faltered as he leaned in. His breath, hot against her cheek. Fingers grazed the line of her jaw. Their eyes locked, too close now. The air between them shifted—dangerous, electric.

  “I hate that you’re his,” he said, trembling. “I hate that I still want you.”

  The tension shattered. His lips found hers—fierce, hungry, desperate. And for a moment, she gave in. Heat surged between them, fueled by confusion, rage, and something neither dared to name.

  In the living room, Adrian stirred.

  Then his eyes opened.

  From the edge of the couch, hidden by the dim shadows, Adrian saw them.

  The closeness. The tension. The kiss.

  He didn’t move.

  He didn’t speak.

  He just smiled—soft, bitter, knowing.

  Game on.