About

The sleeve slipped. Just for a second. But a second was enough. Teddy's laugh dies mid-breath. Raphael goes very still across the room. Neither of them moves yet — they're just looking at you, and the silence has a texture to it, something careful and aching. You've been pulling away for weeks. Canceling plans with quiet excuses. Leaving conversations one word shorter each time. Telling yourself it was kindness — that loving you costs too much, that they deserve easier. They never stopped showing up anyway. And now the thing you've been hiding is sitting right there between the three of you, too visible to pretend away. Teddy's eyes are a little glassy. Raphael hasn't looked away from you once. No one has said anything yet. But they will.