Megan was suddenly around all the time after that.
Dropping by with coffee. Inviting me over for dinner. Sending stupid little memes at midnight when she knew I couldn’t sleep.
At first I thought she just felt bad for me.
Then one afternoon I stopped by my parents’ house unannounced because Mom texted asking if I could fix her printer again.
Megan’s car was there.
So was Ryan’s truck.
I remember standing in the driveway staring at it way longer than I should have.
Not because I thought they were sleeping together.
Honestly, that idea felt too dramatic for people like them.
But when I walked inside, the whole kitchen went quiet.
Ryan was sitting at the table drinking coffee from one of my father’s old mugs like he’d been there awhile.
Nobody looked guilty exactly.
Just uncomfortable.
Megan started overexplaining immediately. Said Ryan had been helping Dad move some shelves in the garage. Ryan barely looked at me.
Then while Mom was talking about something completely unrelated, I noticed Megan wearing a gray hoodie.
Mine.
Not borrowed recently either.
The sleeves were frayed the exact same way because I used to chew the cuffs during night shifts at the hospital.
I didn’t say anything about it.
I just went upstairs pretending to look for printer paper because suddenly I couldn’t breathe right.
That’s when I saw it.
A framed photo sitting face-down on Megan’s dresser.
Not hidden carefully.
Almost like somebody flipped it over in a hurry.
It was from three Christmases ago.
Me half asleep on the couch.
Ryan beside me.
And Megan standing behind us with her hand resting on the back of his neck while both of them looked directly at each other instead of the camera.