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storytime

Jake and I were inseparable for six years. We met in college statistics class, both failing miserably, so we started studying together at this 24-hour diner. That turned into constant hangouts-movie marathons, late night drives, him showing up for family dinners every Sunday because his parents lived out of state. Everyone always asked if we were dating. My mom would give me knowing looks, my sister would say "You two are basically married already." I'd laugh it off because Jake was just Jake. My person. My safe space We dated other people constantly. I'd listen to him complain about girls who didn't get his humor, he'd bring me ice cream when guys ghosted me. We were each other's wedding plus-ones to avoid the "why are you still single?" questions. We were genuinely best friends. We'd seen each other at absolute worst he held my hair back during food poisoning, I helped him through his dad's cancer scare. We just fit. Jake had been dating Zoya for four months, and honestly, I couldn't stand her. Something about how she'd interrupt him or roll her eyes at our inside jokes made my skin crawl. I felt guilty for not being supportive. Then came the night that changed everything. 2:17 AM, Zoya calling, crying hysterically. She'd found something on Jake's phone that would "destroy me" and I needed to come over immediately. I drove to her apartment, mind racing. Was Jake cheating? Moving away without telling me? Zoya handed me Jake's phone, eyes red and puffy. There was a voice memo pulled up-one he'd meant to send to his therapist but accidentally sent to her. I pressed play. Jake's voice filled the room, but he was sobbing. Actually crying in a way I'd never heard. He was talking about being in love with me since sophomore year, how our friendship was "beautiful torture because he got to be close but never close enough. He said he dates other girls hoping to get over me, but then I'll bring him soup when he's sick or laugh at his terrible jokes, and he falls deeper. Watching me date others was like "swallowing glass" but he'd rather have me as a friend than lose me completely. The worst part: he'd taken that Seattle job offer not for opportunity, but because being around me was "killing him slowly" and he needed to "learn how to live without her before I ruin the best thing in my life." Standing in Zoya's living room at 2:30 AM, listening to my best friend's voice break, six years of friendship suddenly rearranged itself. Every weird moment when he'd get quiet about my dates. Every time he'd show up with my favorite coffee "just because." Every look like he was memorizing my face. Zoya said, "Now you know why I broke up with him. He's been in love with you this whole time." I realized I loved him too. Not just as my best friend, but as the person I wanted to build a life with. I drove straight to his apartment and pounded on his door. When he saw me at 3 AM in pajamas with tears streaming, his face went from confusion to pure terror. I held up his phone: "Were you really going to move across the country without telling me you love me?" His face went white. "How did you-Zoya. Oh God, I never meant I cut him off by kissing him. Right there in his doorway at 3 AM, with his neighbor's dog barking We've been married two years now.