There was something deeply satisfying about watching a liar panic.
Especially when the liar was my boyfriend.
My real boyfriend.
The one who currently thought he was only my “friend.”
He stood in my living room with his phone in one hand and a look on his face that screamed I have made several terrible life choices.
Across from him sat my fake boyfriend.
Calm.
Silent.
Annoyingly handsome.
And beside my real boyfriend sat my best friend.
The other terrible life choice.
I walked into the room and smiled.
“Everyone’s here.”
Three heads turned toward me.
My fake boyfriend stood immediately.
“Why are you walking without support?”
No hello.
No good morning.
Just interrogation.
“I have legs.”
“You also have stitches.”
“I’m recovering.”
“You nearly tripped yesterday.”
My rea
