Robin
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By the time the weekend rolls around, I'm done. Completely, utterly done.

Tired. Drained. Exhausted to the point where even the thought of getting out of bed feels like a monumental task.

All I want to do is lock myself in my room, draw the shades, bury myself under the covers, and pretend the world doesn't exist. Just for a little while. Just long enough to catch my breath.

I'm so sick of all of it-the endless wedding stuff that feels like a parade I'm forced to march in. No matter how many times I try to step off the float, someone always pulls me back on.

The catering tastings that leave a bad taste in my mouth, the flower arrangements that make me wonder if anyone even cares about my opinion anymore. And don't even get me started on my mom, always hovering, always asking if I'm okay, as if I know the answer to that question myself.

It's like I'm a prop in someone else's play, being shoved into whatever role they need me to play, whether I want to or not. And the worst part? I'm not even sure I want to fight it anymore.

No more pretending. No more catering to Heather's and Javis's constant back-and-forth, acting like they're in love when I know the truth is far more complicated.

I'm tired of being an accessory in their charade, just standing there, silently supporting their act like I'm a damn background character in their love story.

All I want is to be left alone, to exist in a space where no one expects anything from me.

Just me. No one else. I need to breathe.

That's all I need.

But the only reason I haven't completely lost my mind is Heather.

She sneaks into my room when no one's paying attention, her movements light and quiet, like she knows I need her.

A soft knock, then the door creaks open just enough for her to slip inside, the familiar scent of her perfume filling the space before she even says a word.

She presses quick, gentle kisses against my lips, barely there but enough to send a rush of heat through me. It's a habit, something we do when we're alone, her lips brushing mine like a secret we're both in on.

Sometimes, she doesn't even kiss me at all. She just climbs into bed with me, no words, no explanation, just the steady rhythm of her breath as she settles beside me. Her presence is all warmth, all comfort, and in those moments, everything else fades into the background.

We talk-about anything, everything, or sometimes nothing at all. Conversations flow easily between us, natural and effortless.

We talk about the small, insignificant stuff that doesn't matter to anyone else but feels important to us.

And then, eventually, we both fall asleep. It's peaceful, the kind of sleep where I'm not worried, not thinking about the mess I'm in.

Just her beside me, her hand resting over mine, the sound of her breathing soft and steady in the darkness. It's the only time I can breathe easy, the only time the weight of everything else doesn't press down on me.

And when I wake up, she's already gone, but I can still feel her warmth lingering in the room, like a reminder that, for a little while, I'm not alone.

Those moments are what keep me sane. They remind me that, underneath all of this bullshit, we are still real.

But today, I'm taking a break.

No wedding planning. No fake smiles. No pretending.

I spend most of the day in bed, scrolling mindlessly through my phone, occasionally scribbling half-finished lyrics in my notes app. I tap away at the screen, trying to capture whatever emotion is swirling in my chest, but each line feels off, too raw, too close to what I'm actually feeling.

Every word seems like an echo of my own confusion and frustration, like I'm trying too hard to make sense of things that can't be made sense of. I scrap them, delete them, start again. But the cycle repeats.

The more I try to write, the more I get lost in my own head. I can't get the words right. I can't make them fit. And eventually, I put the phone down, staring at the ceiling, letting my mind wander aimlessly like everything else. It's easier to drown in my own thoughts than face the reality of what I'm avoiding.

I try not to think about the wedding, or about Heather.

Instead, I turn my attention to the window, wondering if I could just fall asleep and wake up when all of this is over. But I know that's not how things work.

I FaceTime Kelvin for a while, letting him rant about his latest situationship, and nod along even though I barely have the energy to care.

"Robin, you look like shit," he tells me at one point, squinting at me through the screen.

"Thanks, Kelvin. That's exactly what I needed to hear."

He snorts. "Seriously. You okay?"

I shrug. "Just tired."

"From what? Being the hottest bridesmaid ever?"

I roll my eyes. "Fuck off."

But he's not wrong. That's all I've been these past few weeks. A third wheel. The extra person in every decision, every conversation, every moment.

Pick a ring, Robin. What do you think of this venue, Robin? Do you think these flowers are ugly, Robin?

I don't care.

I don't care about the wedding.

I care about her.

And that's the problem.

I push the thought away, say goodbye to Kelvin, and spend the rest of the afternoon lying in bed, scrolling mindlessly through my phone. It's peaceful. It's exactly what I need.

Until dinner.

When I finally step out of my room, rubbing my eyes and yawning, something feels off.

The dining table is set like usual. The food smells good. My mom is already seated, chatting animatedly with Heather's mom about some very important wedding detail that I don't give a shit about.

Everything looks normal.

Except Heather.

She's not all soft smiles and stolen glances like she usually is. She's stiff, focused on her plate, barely looking up as I take my seat across from her.

I frown.

"Hey," I say, my voice lower than I intend.

She glances up at me, but it's brief, her expression unreadable.

"Hey."

That's it. No smirk, no playful brush of her foot against mine under the table. Just... nothing.

I wait for something-anything-to break the weird tension, but she just keeps eating, her face carefully neutral.

The conversation around the table goes on, but I can't hear a word of it. All I can focus on is her.

What the hell happened?

Did I miss something? Did Javis say something?

Or worse... did she decide something?

My stomach knots, and suddenly, I don't feel like eating anymore.