The Saturday sun filtered through the curtains, but for Fay, the day was best spent in the cocoon of her bedsheets. She tapped away at her phone, the soft blue light illuminating a mischievous grin.

“How are you guys? I miss you already!” she typed, hitting send on the group chat.

*Pimm.*

The notification tone broke the silence of Angel’s room. Angel squinted at the screen, her thumbs flying across the keyboard. “Oh, come on,” she replied, adding a rolling eyes emoji. “We just met a while ago.”

*Pimm.*

Len’s response was instantaneous, dripping with her signature playful antagonism. “Yeah, I miss you too except Angel.”

Across town, Angel’s expression soured into a mask of pure irritation. Her again? This idiot is getting on my nerves, she thought, her teeth gritted. She shot back: “Well, I miss you too, except the idiot.”

Watching the bubbles dance on her screen, Fay let out a delighted chuckle. To the outside world, they were just bickering friends, but Fay saw something else. She was secretly weaving a narrative for them, a “ship” she sailed in the privacy of her own mind.

“Relax, you two,” Fay texted, adding a serene smiley face.

The banter continued like a rapid-fire tennis match. Angel claimed Len started it; Len replied with a smug, blowing-a-kiss emoji. It was a dance they had performed a thousand times, but today, Fay decided to push the envelope.

“Oh, how cute,” Fay teased. “You two look great together. Maybe you’re meant for each other?”

The atmosphere shifted instantly. In her room, Len stared at the text, a faint, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. But for Angel, the suggestion felt like an exposed nerve being poked. Her pride flared up like a wildfire.

“Yuck!!!!!!!!!!!!” Angel typed, the exclamation points a physical manifestation of her recoil.

When Len read that single word, the smile died. A sharp, physical ache bloomed in her chest, a dull throb that made her breath hitch. She felt small, foolish for the split second of hope she had harbored. Her fingers felt heavy as she echoed the sentiment to save face: “Yuck!!”

But Angel wasn’t finished. Driven by a defensive reflex she didn’t quite understand, she doubled down, her heart racing with an inexplicable anger. “I never, ever, ever see her as a lover,” she sent, the words appearing cold and jagged on the screen. “She’s just a friend to me.”

She tossed the phone aside and threw herself back under the covers, trying to outrun the sudden pang of guilt in her gut.

The joy drained from Len’s room. Though the morning sun was bright, the air felt thick and suffocating. She stared at the ceiling, the words “Just a friend” looping in her mind like a broken record. The vibrant spark in her eyes faded into a hollow, lonely stare. The world felt suddenly, devastatingly dark.

Meanwhile, sleep eluded Angel. She tossed and turned, her high pride warring with a growing sense of dread. ‘Maybe I was too harsh,’ she whispered to the empty room. ‘That’s not what I really meant.’

She paced her floor, feet padding softly against the rug. She grabbed her phone, typing out a frantic apology: I’m sorry Len, it’s not that I hate you. Well, it’s not like I like you either…

Her thumb hovered over the send button. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but the stubborn wall of her ego wouldn’t break. She deleted the text, groaning in frustration. Falling back onto the bed, she pressed a pillow over her face and let out a muffled scream, kicking her feet against the mattress in a fit of self-loathing.

She was a jerk, and the silence from Len’s side of the screen was starting to feel like a death toll.