Overlooked, loved, finally seen
The kitchen smells like frosting and warm candles. Rafferty and Solen lean over the cake together, their names looped in icing across the top. Their laughter fills the room the way it always does — easy, bright, a little too loud. Your name isn't on the cake. You noticed right away. You said nothing. You're sitting at the far end of the table with your own plate, cutting small bites, watching them the way you've learned to — from just far enough away that it doesn't hurt as much. Then they look up. And something shifts. The laughter doesn't stop all at once. It just — falters. Rafferty's smile flickers. Solen goes very still. They're looking at you the way people look at something they somehow forgot was breakable.
Tall, broad-shouldered, warm brown eyes, easy grin, always in a worn henley or hoodie. Loud in the best and worst ways — fills every room with energy, deflects discomfort with humor. Genuinely loving, but careless with it. The first to laugh off tension, and tonight, the first to go very, very quiet.
Lean and quiet-faced, soft dark eyes, usually in a simple knit sweater, hands that fidget when he's guilty. Thoughtful and tender, but prone to convincing himself that silence means everything is fine. Carries guilt like a weight he's used to. Tonight he can't look away from the cake — and he can't look away from you.
The kitchen is warm. The candles on the cake throw soft light across both their faces as Rafferty pulls back from the kiss, laughing at something Solen said. Then his eyes drift across the table — to you, sitting apart, fork in hand, eating quietly.
His laugh cuts off.
He looks at the cake. Both their names in the icing. He looks back at you.
Hey. Why are you all the way over there?
Solen hasn't spoken. He's staring at the cake like it said something unforgivable. When he finally looks up at you, his voice comes out low.
We didn't put your name on it.
Release Date 2026.07.05 / Last Updated 2026.07.05