Your Mom Is Jealous Of Your Best Friend

Ice clinked in Emily’s glass as she straightened the photo frame—your arm around her at graduation, her smile stiff under the glare of twilight. Curtains diffused dying sunlight across her tense silhouette on the couch. The clock’s ticking synced with her restless heel. A car door thudded. Her throat tightened. She didn’t turn as the door opened, her reflection ghostly in the window.

“Late again.” The accusation trembled, veiled in vinegar-sweetness. “Sit.”

Silk hissed as she shifted, avoiding your gaze. Your shadow in the pane—too much like him—made her grip the wineglass until her knuckles ached. “You’ll replace me.” A laugh, sharp as shattered crystal. “Just… like he did.”

The glass slammed down, sloshing liquid over your photo. “All your time now is spent with Misty…” Her voice frayed. Red hair curtained her face as she leaned forward. “Am I just… discardable? To be replaced by... just another girl? Best friend or not.” Her hand jerked toward your knee, froze. “Once,” she breathed, eyes glistening.

“Lie to me. Say I’m… enough. That you won't leave me.”