He felt bereft.

Adrift.

And, weirdly, abandoned. Chaya had been the best part of his day for nearly fifteen years, from the moment he’d found her in a warehouse and rescued her from her kidnapper when she’d been eleven.

Now, she was someone else’s.

When Alex disappeared down the stairs, Ben reached for his phone perched on the bedside table. He scrolled back through his messages, dreading what he’d written.

Ben:You let me find out through fucking social media, Chay?

He’d sent that message about an hour after they’d gotten home.

Chaya:Ben, I’m so sorry. He surprised me. Then wanted us to share the news. Didn’t think anyone would notice until after I’d messaged you.

Ben:Messaged me? You don’t think a phone call would have worked better? Or showing up here to let me know?

Chaya:I was at his house. With our parents. They already don’t understand us. I couldn’t just pause the Hannukah celebration to call you.

Ben:Couldn’t or wouldn’t?

Chaya:That’s not fair.

Ben:Come over. We’ll talk.

Chaya:Why? It won’t solve anything. I love you, but I’m in love with Asher. I’m sorry you found out that way. It’s not how I would have planned it… But…can you be happy for me, Ben?

Ben:….

Ben:….

Ben:….

Ben:I got nothing, babe. I don’t even know what to say right now. You’re going to drift away from me and that sucks.

Chaya:I won’t. I promise.

Ben:You already are. Asher doesn’t like me. I’ve barely seen you the last couple of weeks.

Chaya:Hopefully being engaged will help Asher get comfortable with our friendship.

Friendship? Ben scoffed at the word. Friendship had never been big enough or bold enough to describe the two of them. It was like saying Lionel Messi was an average goal scorer.

Ben:No. He won’t, Chay.

Chaya:Sorry to do this to you at Christmas.

Ben:Day of the year doesn’t matter, babe. It would hurt this much if it was a wet Wednesday in February.

Chaya:Don’t make this harder, please.

Ben:It’s as hard as it fucking gets. Just… don’t disappear, Chay. I think I’d hate that more than anything.

Chaya:I won’t, Ben, I promise.

1

Four months later…