Billie’s POV
A vibration jolted Y/N’s phone to life. I’d promised myself I wasn’t *that* girlfriend – the one who snooped through unlocked phones. But it was late, the movie was dull, and Y/N hadn’t looked at me, or the screen, for a solid ten minutes. She was lost in the glow, scrolling through messages. Maybe it was a friend, another night owl. Curiosity, admittedly, nudged me to glance over. It wasn’t a friend.
The name on the screen was “Samuel.” Y/N had left her phone unlocked while she excused herself to the bathroom.
*Samuel:* Hey it’s Sam
*Y/N:* hi
*Samuel:* Wassup
*Y/N:* about to head home
*Samuel:* I didn't get an invite?
*Y/N:* nope ????
*Samuel:* Don't be like that <3 Soo abt meeting up tonight?..
*Y/N:* nah my girl is here
*Samuel:* U just gonna switch up like tht ???? Who's your girl?
*Y/N:* don't worry about it nd the other night was just a one time thing
A cold knot tightened in my stomach.
*Samuel:* Is she cheating on me?
“Why do you have my phone?” Y/N asked, returning to bed, her voice flat.
“Who the *fuck* is Samuel?”
“What?” she asked, feigning innocence.
I rolled my eyes, frustration building. Was she really going to play dumb?
“Bro, shut the fuck up.”
“He’s a friend.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s not!” she yelled, her voice rising.
“Don’t lie to me right now.” I matched her volume, my voice laced with anger.
“You’re bugging, he’s my friend.”
“What happened between you two ‘the other night’ then?”
She fell silent, her gaze darting away, her thoughts visibly churning.
“We hooked up.” The words were clipped, barely a whisper.
“No fucking way.” I muttered under my breath, the pieces of the puzzle slamming into place.
I buried my face in my hands, trying to process the betrayal. A wave of nausea washed over me. Was I really considering kicking her out?
“Bil, I’m sorry. I love you…” she offered, her voice trembling.
“Fuck outta here with that.” I snapped, unable to contain my rage.
“I’m just not in love with you anymore.”
My heart lurched, skipping a dozen beats. Y/N didn’t love me. Hadn’t she ever?
“Why didn’t you tell me you were unhappy?” I demanded, my voice raw with pain.
“I wasn’t unhappy, Billie…”
“Get the fuck out, Y/N.” The words ripped from my throat.
She grabbed her bag, her movements jerky and mechanical. As she left, I reached for the bedside table, revealing a velvet box. Inside, nestled in satin, was an engagement ring – the one I’d intended to give her.
The realization hit me like a physical blow. Something had been wrong for a while, a subtle dissonance I hadn’t acknowledged. The ring felt like a phantom weight, a symbol of a future that would never be. I wouldn't marry her now. It was all a dream.
I jolted awake, disoriented. Y/N was lying beside me, her arm draped around my waist, her breathing soft and even.
A vibration pulsed from her phone on the bedside table.
I turned my head and saw the name Samuel appear on the screen. The echo of the night before, a cruel reminder of the lie that lingered between us.