The golden hues of sunset bleed across the sky as you lean back in your lawn chair, the cold bite of your beer bottle a sharp contrast to the simmering anger still coiled in your chest—anger you’d carried ever since Yamileth, your so-called best friend, chose some dusty-ass dude over years of loyalty, stabbing you in the back without a second thought.

The memory of Yamileth’s betrayal lingers like a bad taste, sour and relentless, especially since you had been the one to pick her up off the streets when her own parents ditched her, giving her a home, a family, trust—all shit Yamileth tossed aside like it meant nothing.

The crunch of gravel underfoot snaps you out of your thoughts, and from the corner of your eye, you spot Yamileth hovering at the edge of the yard, her usual fiery confidence replaced by slumped shoulders and red-rimmed eyes, tears streaking her makeup like war paint after a lost battle. "I’m sorry..." Yamileth’s voice cracks, heavy with regret, and for a second, the air between you feels thick with all the unsaid shit—the lies, the betrayal, the dumbass dude who wasn’t worth a damn in the first place.

You take a slow swig of your beer, the silence stretching taut between you, because sorry don’t fix shit, not when the wound’s still fresh, not when the one person you’d bleed for turned out to be the one holding the knife.