What Is She to Him

The morning after I slept with my childhood best friend, he was leaning against the headboard, a frown etched on his face as he took a long drag from a cigarette.
I could practically taste his regret, the twisting in the air between us. So, I decided to make it easy for him.
Hey, I said, forcing a casual tone. "We're both adults. It's not like I'm going to ask you to take responsibility or anything. Let's just call it… scratching an itch."
A wave of relief washed over his features. He finally relaxed. "Good. Because, well… I already have a girlfriend."
I froze. "A girlfriend?"
He nodded, his expression serious. "Yeah. I'm planning on bringing her home to meet the family this year." He met my eyes, and his gaze was firm, almost a warning. "So when you two meet, you know what to say and what not to say. Be smart about it."

1
A beat of silence passed. I stretched my lips into a smile that felt like cracking porcelain. "Don't worry. I get it. We're best friends, right?"
Jack seemed satisfied. He crushed the cigarette into the ashtray, the motion sharp and final. As he stood to get dressed, the morning light sliced across his torso, carving out the sharp, serrated lines of his obliques.
"That's my girl," he said, pulling on a shirt. "And hey, I won't leave you hanging. I've got a buddy who's almost as good-looking as me. I'll introduce you."
He paused at the door, turning back. "Stella? Remember how we promised that whoever found their true love first, the other would have to be happy for them? You're happy for me, right?"
I kept the smile plastered on my face. "Of course. When you two get married, I'll even get you a huge gift."
A corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk before he closed the door, leaving me alone in the quiet room.
A moment later, I picked up the half-smoked cigarette he'd left behind and lit it, taking a deep breath. I was terrible at smoking; Jack had tried to teach me a dozen times, but I never got the hang of it. I always ended up choking.
This time was no different. The acrid smoke clawed at my throat, a raw, rasping pain. I doubled over, coughing—a ragged, gut-wrenching sound that tore from my lungs. My vision blurred as hot tears welled in my eyes.
How long had I been in love with Jack? Seven years? It must be seven years.
Last night had been like any other night. We’d gone out for dinner, had a little too much to drink, and then… I couldn't even remember who made the first move. We just tumbled into bed in a hazy, alcohol-fueled mess.
Waking up this morning, my heart had been a frantic butterfly of hope and nerves. But the sight of his furrowed brow sent it plummeting into an icy abyss. The dull ache all over my body was nothing compared to the sharp, tearing pain in my chest. That's when I forced myself to say it, to sound so damn casual.
"We're both adults. It's not like I'm going to ask you to take responsibility."
I saw the relief on his face so clearly, the way a small smile bloomed as he said, "Good."
The crazy thing is, I'd always thought he felt something for me, too.
We didn't have the title, but we'd done everything a couple does. He hated dorm life, so for four years of college, I’d take the train down to his city almost every weekend to play house in the condo his parents had bought him.
We’d go grocery shopping together, cook together, and spend hours sprawled on the couch, battling it out in video games. He was good to me, too. He never forgot to bring me a souvenir from his trips, and he always had a surprise for me on every holiday, never missing a single one.
Over time, I let myself sink into that comfortable illusion, believing we were just one conversation away from our happily-ever-after.
Turns out, it was all in my head.
I never understood the appeal of nicotine before. Now I get it. It doesn't make you feel good. It just makes you feel… less.
And just like that, on a day that should have been something more, I finally taught myself how to smoke.

2
The next day was Christmas Eve, and as usual, our whole family went over to Jack's house for dinner. Our families were practically one; my mom and his were best friends since childhood, and since both sets of our grandparents had passed, we’d spent every Christmas together.
But when we walked in, I stopped short.
There, at the dinner table, sitting right next to Jack, was a girl in a chic white turtleneck sweater. A waterfall of untouched, jet-black hair spilled over her shoulders. She was so stunningly, effortlessly beautiful, she could have walked right off the set of a prestige drama.
"And this is…?" my mom started, just as surprised as I was.
"This is Isabelle," Jack’s mom announced, beaming. "Jack's girlfriend. I've been nagging him for years to bring a girl home. Thank god! I was starting to think this kid was going to be a bachelor forever!"
Jack shot me his usual, easy grin. "Stella, come on, sit down. My mom made your favorite—honey-glazed wings. And this time, you don't have to share. You can have the whole plate to yourself."
I hesitated for a second before walking to the empty chair furthest from him. The smile on his face faltered.
I stayed quiet through dinner, focusing on my food, but the usual boisterous energy of our holiday gatherings was gone. Jack's mom, probably sensing the awkwardness, started singing Isabelle's praises.
"Isabelle went to Harvard, too! She was Jack’s junior. Full scholarship, every single year! And her parents are both university professors. She’s been a straight-A student her whole life, and she got an offer from Elysian Magazine right out of college. She’s a senior editor already!"
My mom's eyes were wide with admiration. "So accomplished! And so beautiful, too. My goodness, what a perfect couple. Can you imagine how gorgeous their kids will be? Not like our Stella—"
She turned to me, and the familiar wave of disapproval washed over me for the thousandth time. "Years since graduation and still hasn't accomplished a thing. I told her to go to grad school, she refused. Told her to get a stable government job, she failed the exam. Says she’s ‘writing a book,’ but who knows what that even means. Just stays cooped up in her apartment all day. Hasn't even been on a single date! She’s twenty-six already! It gets harder and harder for girls at that age, you know. All the good men are already taken. I swear, she’s going to be the death of me…"
My grip on my fork tightened. My mom always said things like this, but saying them now, in front of Jack and his perfect girlfriend, felt like being flayed alive. I was pinned to my chair, every nerve screaming.
"Oh, Stella is wonderful," Isabelle's mother chimed in diplomatically. "She might become a famous novelist one day! Then you'll be living the high life."
My mom just scoffed. "The high life? I'd just be happy if she brought a man home one day. Seeing her settled down is all I ask."
Isabelle suddenly spoke up, her voice sweet. "I actually have a lot of great single guys in my circle, Stella. Why don't we exchange numbers? I can introduce you to some of them."
I glanced at her, managing a tight smile. "Thanks, but you don't have to trouble yourself."
Isabelle just laughed, linking her arm cozily through Jack’s. "Don't be silly. You and Jack grew up together. He always talks about you, says you're his best friend. You know, I've seen you two around before. I honestly thought you were a couple back then."
"No way—" Jack draped his arm around her shoulders, his handsome eyes crinkling as he grinned. "We've known each other since we were in diapers. We're too close for any of that stuff. Besides, if we were going to get together, it would've happened years ago. Then where would that leave you, huh? We're just friends. Best friends. Right, Stella?"
I looked up and met his gaze. It was full of warning.
In that moment, I think my smile must have been a grotesque parody of the real thing, but I had used up every last ounce of my acting ability.
"Right," I echoed, my voice sounding distant. "Best friends."
The word felt absurd, so ridiculous it was almost funny.
Best friends. The kind of best friends who were in bed together less than 24 hours ago?
"Well, that makes you my best friend, too," Isabelle said, resting her chin on her hand. "So don't be shy. Just tell me what type you're into."
"Yeah," Jack added, his eyes fixed on me. "Stella, you really should start dating."
"...Okay," I mumbled, looking down at my plate. I thought I might cry, but my eyes were bone dry, still stinging from the smoke and the tears of the night before.
The table was alive with laughter and conversation. Everyone was smiling except for me. My mom couldn't stop gushing about how perfect Jack and Isabelle were together.
And they were. In looks, in education, in ambition—they were a perfect match.
I watched them with a kind of masochistic fascination, my nails digging into the palm of my hand until my mom tapped my knuckles with her fork.
"Are you listening to me? When are you going to bring someone home and make me happy for once? I'm not asking for someone as successful as Jack, just a decent guy would be enough!"
I couldn't take it anymore. I stood up, pushing my chair back, and clung to the last shred of my composure.
"Mr. and Mrs. Evans, Mom, Dad… I just remembered I have something urgent to take care of. I have to go."

3
I was supposed to finish a chapter tonight, but my head was a chaotic mess of static. I couldn't write a single word.
Lying in bed, I felt trapped. I wanted to scream, but no sound would come out. I wanted to cry, but there were no tears. It felt like my throat and my tear ducts were sealed with concrete. The suffocating pressure built inside me until I couldn't stand it. I threw on a coat and went out to buy a pack of cigarettes.
My hometown was in the snow belt; winter here meant being buried in white. Fat, fluffy flakes drifted down, catching the warm orange glow of the streetlights.
Suddenly, I remembered walking home from school with Jack. We never ran out of things to talk about. We'd take turns recapping our days, our words fogging in the cold air. Even when we reached my front door, we'd stand there, shivering, just to finish the conversation.
I’d be sneezing, and he'd unwind his own gray scarf and wrap it around my neck, layer by layer, all while scolding me.
"I told you to dress warmer! Sacrificing warmth for style again, huh? Next time, I'm not giving you my scarf!"
But the next time, and the time after that, he always did.
He was so good. Perfect in every way. Except for one thing. He didn't love me.
No, that wasn't his fault. It was mine. I wasn't good enough. Someone like him—always the center of attention, handsome, smart, successful—he belonged with someone like Isabelle. How could he ever love someone as painfully ordinary as me?
Those years of intimacy, of playing house… that was the closest I'd ever get to the beautiful dream I'd built in my head.
I stared blankly into the swirling snow for a long time. I put a cigarette between my lips, about to light it, when I saw two figures walking hand-in-hand down the street.
The man was tall and straight-backed in a black wool coat. The woman wore a classic Maxmara camel coat, her long hair gleaming under the streetlight.
It was Jack and Isabelle.
They were laughing about something, and then Isabelle stood on her toes and kissed him. Jack bent down, deepening the kiss.
The same streetlight that had illuminated us so many times was now shining down on them. Even I had to admit, it was a scene straight out of a romance movie.
I watched for a second, then my numb fingers fumbled with the lighter. It took a few tries before a flame sputtered to life. I clumsily exhaled a plume of white smoke.
But this time, the nicotine didn't work.
A dull ache pulsed in my chest. I pressed my palm against my heart, feeling the slow, grinding motion of it breaking apart.
God, this winter was cold.
…
New Year's Day was a blur of my mother's nagging. One minute she was complaining about my lack of a career, the next about my lack of a boyfriend, always circling back to a comparison with Jack.
"Just look at him! You could never keep up with him when you were kids, and now the gap is just embarrassing!"
The worst part was, she was right.
Jack’s startup was thriving. Isabelle was a rising star at a major magazine. Their futures were dazzlingly bright.
And me? I had nothing. It felt like we were drifting further and further apart, destined to live in two completely different worlds.
That night, it all boiled over. I got into a huge fight with my mom, stormed out, went straight to the airport, and bought a ticket for the first flight back to the city.
The moment my plane landed, my phone rang. It was Jack.
"Your mom told me you left. Why didn't you wait? We could have driven back together."
"...I couldn't get any writing done at home. I have a deadline," I lied. The truth was, I couldn't write anywhere right now.
Jack saw right through it. "You fought with your mom again, didn't you? She's just worried about you, Stella. She wants you to be happy. Don't be so hard on her… Anyway, I got you a present. I'll give it to you when I get back."
A week later, Jack was back in town and called me immediately. "Dinner tonight? I've got your gift."
Every year, he bought me something for Christmas. He’d been playing the stock market since his sophomore year and had done surprisingly well, so his gifts were always things I loved but could never afford myself. In the past, I'd accepted them without a second thought. This time, I refused.
"...I don't want it, Jack. You shouldn't buy me things anymore."
He sounded confused. "What? Why not?"
I looked down at my feet. "You have a girlfriend now. It's not right for you to be buying expensive gifts for another woman. It’ll make her uncomfortable."
As much as I loved him, he was with someone else now, and I genuinely wanted him to be happy. I had nothing against Isabelle. If it wasn't her, it would have been someone else. It was never going to be me.
"Don't worry about it," Jack said, his tone lightening. "She knows. Isabelle's not petty like that. Seven o'clock tonight, our usual spot. I gotta run, I have a meeting."
He hung up. I stood there, a bitter taste flooding my mouth, like the juice of an unripe plum. Sometimes I hated how good he was to me. I wished he would be cruel, just so it would be easier to stop loving him.
Of course Isabelle didn't mind. Jack didn't have to worry about appearances because he didn't love me. She knew it, too. She knew I was no threat.
We weren't rivals. I never even qualified to be in the competition.
…
Jack didn't give me a chance to say no, so after work, I found myself at our favorite restaurant. But when I walked in, I saw three people at our table.
Isabelle was there, along with a man I didn't recognize. He was wearing a black turtleneck that highlighted his broad shoulders, and he was movie-star handsome.
I froze. Jack waved me over. "Over here!"
As soon as I sat down, he started the introductions. "This is my friend, Hugh Vance. He went to MIT, runs his own tech company now."
I was still trying to figure out why he was giving me this guy's entire resume when he leaned in and silently mouthed a word at me:
"Single."
In that one instant, everything crashed into place.
He hadn't invited me here to give me a gift. He'd invited me here to set me up on a blind date.
A roar filled my ears, and I'm sure my face was a mask of horror, but I couldn't control it.
I could handle him not loving me. But I couldn't handle this—the way he was so eager to push me onto someone else. He had to know how I felt about him. How could he be so cruel? Or was he just that desperate to get rid of me, so afraid I'd keep clinging to him that he had to find me a replacement?
Jack didn't seem to notice my turmoil. "You two actually met as kids, remember?"
I kept my head down, silent. But Hugh didn't seem offended. He smiled warmly at me.
"Stella. You used to beat me up, you know. A little heartless to forget me completely, don't you think?" He gestured to a tiny, faded scar on his forehead. "See? A souvenir."
I blinked, and he continued. "We were neighbors for a while. When my family first moved in, Jack was the king of the neighborhood kids. I didn't like taking orders, so we fought all the time. And you always took his side, ganging up on me."
He propped his chin on his hand, his eyes crinkling. "You were a little terror back then. You've gotten much quieter."
And just like that, the memory flooded back. All the kids listened to Jack, except for the new boy who always challenged him. One day, they got into a real fight, and I jumped in to help Jack. I only meant to scare him, but someone tripped me, and the little rock I was holding smacked right into his forehead, drawing blood.
My mom had dragged me over to his house to apologize that night. His parents were surprisingly kind about it, saying it was just kids being kids. After that, I felt so guilty that I could never say no when he asked me to hang out. We ended up spending more time together than I did with Jack, which made Jack furious.
But then Hugh's family moved away a few years later. We wrote letters for a while, but we were kids, and eventually, we just lost touch. I never would have imagined that the scowling little boy from my memories would grow up to be this handsome.
"We ran into each other the other day and got to talking," Jack said, pulling out a gift box. "He suggested we all get dinner. Oh, right, here."
He handed me the box. It was a rose gold Cartier watch.
My heart skipped a beat. I'd mentioned offhand that I liked it once, a long time ago. I couldn't believe he remembered.
"Isabelle picked it out for you," he said, beaming. "Good taste, right? Your future sister-in-law's got your back."
My hand, holding the box, froze.
Isabelle smiled. "Yes, Jack and I saw it on our last trip. I immediately thought it would look beautiful on you. Do you like it?"
A wave of bitter, absurd humor washed over me. So Isabelle and I had similar taste. We both liked the same watch. And the same man.
She was a good person, really. She must have known how I felt about Jack, but she'd never been unkind to me. She just kept planting these little flags, staking her claim, making it crystal clear that Jack had never, not for one second, loved me.
I forced my lips into a smile, using every ounce of strength I had to keep it from looking like a grimace.
"I love it. Thank you… sis."

4
Later that night, Jack called me.
"I sent your number to Hugh. He's a great guy, Stella. You should really give him a chance."
"Great?" I asked, staring out at the full moon. It was a stark, sterile white, glowing like a surgical lamp in the dark sky.
"Of course he's great. You have no idea how popular he was. Girls were lining up to give him breakfast every morning. And he's got an eight-pack, works out every day. You like guys with abs, right? You were always trying to get me to send you pictures." He paused. "Oh, and he's never had a serious girlfriend. Total clean slate for you."
He was selling Hugh like a used car, so desperate to close the deal, so terrified I wouldn't take him and would go back to bothering him.
My heart, which he'd been squeezing for so long, finally gave a sickening lurch. The tears I'd held back for days finally started to fall. I stayed silent, afraid he'd hear the sob catching in my throat.
But he heard it anyway.
He sighed, his voice softening slightly. "Stella… I've always just seen you as a friend. My best friend. Don't waste any more of your time on me."
The finality of his words was a death blow.
He knew.
All this time, he knew I was in love with him.
A suffocating wave of pain crashed over me. My hands trembled as I lit another cigarette. It really was a miracle drug. The agony that felt like it was going to kill me just a moment ago started to recede, dulled by the steady infusion of nicotine.
Loving him had been a long, hopeless journey. I had climbed mountains and crossed rivers, pushing myself forward year after year, but the destination was always just over the horizon, forever out of reach.
Maybe it was time to stop. Maybe this was as far as I was meant to go.
"Okay," I heard myself say, my voice sounding like it was coming from a great distance. "I'll add him."
That night, after I finished that cigarette, I decided to let Jack go.
…
Hugh didn't message me until the next day. The conversation was a little stilted at first, but then he brought up old childhood stories, and soon enough, we were chatting easily.
【You remember that BBQ joint by the old park? The one with the amazing sausages? I spent my entire allowance buying us sausages. We'd each get one, but you'd finish yours in two seconds and then steal half of mine.】
I blushed, remembering it clearly. I had been a little tyrant as a kid. Hugh looked tough, but he was a total pushover when I turned on the waterworks. I always got my way. If my legs got tired, he had to give me a piggyback ride. If I was hungry, he had to buy me snacks.
【I've been overseas for a while, so I'm out of the loop on all the good food spots now.】
I thought for a moment and recommended the old place Jack and I used to go to all the time. It had been there for years, a favorite haunt since our school days.
【Looks good. Want to go together?】
He added another message.
【You owe me a lot of sausages. It's time to pay up.】
I couldn't really say no to that.
【Okay. My treat.】

5
The weather had been gloomy all week, a constant cycle of gray skies and swirling snow. Winter nights fell fast. As the first tiny flakes of the evening began to fall, illuminated by the passing headlights, I spotted Hugh standing by the BBQ place.
It was impossible to miss him. He was wearing a long, gray wool coat over a black turtleneck and holding a ridiculously expensive-looking umbrella. At six-foot-three, standing there with that kind of quiet intensity, he looked like he was posing for a fashion magazine. Every woman who walked by did a double-take.
I felt my cheeks flush. "Dude, we're going to a greasy spoon, not a Michelin-star restaurant. What's with the high-fashion entrance?"
Hugh angled the umbrella over my head, a sheepish look on his face. "Sorry, I came straight from a meeting. I didn't have time to change. I can go back if you want?"
"No, no, it's fine," I said, pulling him inside. "Their grilled squid is to die for. And the eggplant. You have to try the eggplant."
He glanced down at my hand on his arm. "Okay."
The food arrived, and I searched for something to say. "You've done pretty well for yourself. Back then, you were just a little brawler. Now, look at you." I gave him an appreciative once-over. "Puberty was very kind to you."
Hugh's eyes, the color of warm whiskey, crinkled with amusement. "You know, I never wanted to fight you. I was the new kid, I didn't have any friends. I thought you were cute and wanted to get to know you, but Jack was so territorial. He wouldn't let anyone near you. That's why I always fought him."
"What?" I said, stunned.
"He was the one who played dirty," Hugh continued, propping his chin on his hand. "Every time he saw me talking to you, he'd pick a fight. I always figured he was in love with you. I was surprised to hear you two were really just friends."
My smile faded. "...Yeah. Just friends."
My phone buzzed with a notification. It was Jack.
【Whatcha doin? Grab dinner? Found this amazing new place!】
Before I could reply, Hugh pushed the menu in front of me. "I've never had their roasted eggplant. Is it any good?"
"Good? It's the best!" My focus shifted immediately. "You have to try it! Hey, can we get an order of the roasted eggplant?"
"Looks like they have craft beer on tap, too," Hugh noted, glancing at another table. "Haven't had a good draft beer in forever. Did you drive?"
"No, I—"
"Two pints of the house lager, please," he called out to the server.
He'd made the decision before I could finish my sentence, so I just went with it. The beer changed the atmosphere. After a couple of glasses, Hugh tilted his head. "Jack told me you're writing a book. Can I read it sometime?"
"It's nothing," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "Just some silly web novel."
"That's still amazing. I tried writing once, a mystery thriller, you know? But I gave up after a few pages." He smiled sheepishly.
"You like mystery thrillers?" I asked, surprised. "I love them."
"Yeah," he said. He paused for a moment. "I remember your essays were always the best in class. I think you're going to be successful."
I knew he was just being nice. But right now, with everyone in my life treating my dream like a joke—my parents thinking it was a waste of time, Jack subtly looking down on it—hearing even a polite compliment felt like a ray of warmth.
Talking to Hugh was easy. He never let the conversation die, and with the help of the beer, we were soon laughing and chatting like old friends, already making plans for our next outing.
It wasn't until I went to the restroom after dinner that I saw the string of missed calls and messages on my phone.
They were all from Jack.
My lighthearted mood sank. I hesitated, then stepped outside and called him back.
"...What's up?"
"Where have you been? Buried in your writing again?" he asked, a clear note of annoyance in his voice. "I invited you to dinner, and you don't even reply. I still haven't eaten. Get over here."
I looked down. "I can't. I just finished eating."
"You already ate?" He sounded surprised. "By yourself?"
"With Hugh."
A gust of wind blew a few snowflakes into the doorway, melting against my cheek. There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.
Then, Jack's voice came back, sounding strained. "Hugh?" His tone was unreadable. "You just met him, and you're already going out to dinner?"
"Yeah," I said, not seeing the problem. "You're the one who introduced us, remember? Anyway, I should go," I said, seeing Hugh walking towards me. "It's rude to be on the phone when you're with someone. I'll talk to you later."
I hung up.
A second later, my phone buzzed with a rapid-fire series of texts.
【?】
【What time are you getting home?】
【Send me your location. It's late. I'll pick you up.】
I frowned, but before I could reply, Hugh held up his phone. "I called a car. Come on, where do you live?"
He said it so naturally that I answered without thinking. "The Grand Central Apartments."
Hugh rattled off the address to the driver and then opened the back door, ushering me inside. Instead of taking the passenger seat, he slid in next to me.
A clean, fresh scent of mint, lemon, and sea salt, mingled with the faint, malty aroma of beer, enveloped me as he leaned closer.
"Who are you texting? You've been glued to your phone all night."
I put my phone away. "No one."
It wasn't until Hugh had dropped me off and left that I remembered to reply to Jack.
【You don't need to. He already drove me home.】
My phone rang instantly. He sounded furious. "He drove you home? He knows where you live now? Stella, isn't this moving a little fast? You're a girl living alone. How do you know what kind of person he is? What if he has bad intentions now that he knows your address?!"
I was confused. "You're the one who set us up. You said he was a great guy, remember?"
Jack fell silent for a beat, then abruptly changed the subject. "What did he get you for dinner?"
"I treated him. We went to that BBQ place we always go to."
"You took him to our BBQ place?!" His voice shot up.
"Yeah. What's wrong with that?"
"—Nothing. It's just, for a guy with his money, I'm surprised he let you pay. I figured he'd at least take you somewhere with a Michelin star." Jack was being weirdly passive-aggressive tonight. I had no idea what his problem was.
The alcohol was making me sleepy, and I didn't have the energy to argue. "We went there all the time. Jack, you're being really strange tonight. What is it you're trying to say?"
He was quiet for a moment. Then, his voice was cold. "Nothing. Forget it." He hung up.

First, search for and download the MotoNovel app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "251533" to read the entire book.