𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

The morning sun streams in through the sheer curtains, casting golden light across the room. Everything is still, quiet except for the soft hum of the city beyond the windows.

I shift slightly under the covers, stretching, and my hand instinctively moves toward the warmth beside me.

Y/n stirs, mumbling something incoherent as she presses her face deeper into the pillow. I smile, letting my fingers trace gentle circles against her bare back, enjoying the slow, easy rhythm of the moment.

For once, there's no rush. No flashing cameras, no demanding schedules. Just us.

"Hey," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She groans dramatically. "Too early."

I laugh. "It's almost ten."

"Exactly." She rolls onto her back, cracking one eye open to glare at me. I arch an eyebrow. "Right. So I'm dating a feral gremlin who can't operate outside of nighttime hours?"

She smirks. "I like the way that sounds."

Shaking my head, I push the sheets down and climb out of bed, stretching as I make my way toward the kitchen. "Come on, lazy. I'm making coffee."

Behind me, I hear her groan dramatically before she finally drags herself up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. We both walk into my bathroom, getting ourselves tidied up for the morning.

I spit out my toothpaste before beaming a smile at the mirror as Y/n swishes around some mouthwash before following me.

"Can you make me breakfast too?" she asks, voice still thick with sleep.

I glance over my shoulder, smirking. "You just want me to spoil you."

"Obviously." She leans against the counter as I start the coffee machine. "Isn't that why people get into relationships? Unlimited snacks and forehead kisses?"

I laugh, grabbing two mugs. "And what do I get out of it?"

She hums, stepping behind me and wrapping her arms around my waist, pressing a lazy kiss to my shoulder. "Me. And my charming personality."

I roll my eyes but smile. "Lucky me."

We fall into an easy routine—her grabbing plates while I pour coffee, the soft sounds of the city outside filling the comfortable silence. It feels good, normal.

Until her phone buzzes on the counter.

At first, she doesn't react, but then it vibrates again, the screen lighting up. I don't mean to look, but my eyes instinctively flick to the name.

Madelyn Cline.

Y/n's entire posture changes. The relaxed, sleepy ease disappears in an instant, her jaw tightening just slightly as she grabs the phone and swipes it open.

I don't say anything. I don't have a reason to. But I notice.

She reads the message quickly, her expression unreadable, before sighing and rubbing her fingers over her temple.

"You okay?" I ask, keeping my voice casual.

She hesitates. Just for a second. Then she nods. "Yeah. Just—uh, just need to take this real quick."

She gives me a small smile before stepping away, heading toward the hallway with her phone pressed to her ear.

And suddenly, the kitchen feels a little colder. I exhale, forcing myself to focus on the coffee, but something about the shift in her demeanor lingers in my mind.

It's not jealousy. Not yet. But for the first time, I realize—I never really asked what happened between her and Madelyn after they broke up.

And I'm starting to wonder if I should have. I know I shouldn't worry too much, she came back to me. But, I'm also not stupid.

There's no denying the connection they had, we all saw them together. Part of me, as much as I shouldn't, wonders if maybe there is something still there between them.

They don't talk, not much at least from what I know. I've seen their innocent interactions on social media, nothing to worry about. Y/n is very honest with me, there's transparency here.

However, it's Madelyn I worry about.

𝐘/𝐍'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

I step into the hallway, phone in hand, and exhale before pressing it to my ear.

"Hey."

There's a pause on the other end. Then, a quiet, "Hey."

Madelyn. Her voice is softer than usual—off in a way I can't quite place.

I glance back toward the kitchen. Scarlett is pouring coffee, pretending she's not at least a little curious.

I lower my voice. "What's going on?"

Madelyn hesitates. "I just... I needed to hear your voice."

Something in my chest tightens. "Madz—"

"I wouldn't have called if it wasn't important," she cuts in quickly. "I swear."

I lean against the wall, running a hand through my hair. "Okay. Talk to me."

Another pause. Then, barely above a whisper, "I don't know what to do."

A frown tugs at my lips. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Her voice trails off, like she's debating how much to say. "I think I really screwed up, Y/n."

I shift, glancing toward the kitchen again. Scarlett's stirring her coffee absently, her back to me.

"I need to see you," Madelyn continues. "In person."

Something uneasy settles in my stomach. "Madelyn..."

"Please," she says, and the way her voice shakes knocks the wind out of me.

I squeeze my eyes shut. "Yeah. Okay."

She exhales, like she's been holding her breath.

"I'll text you," I say. "We'll figure it out."

A pause. Then, quietly, "Thank you."

I nod, even though she can't see me.

When the call ends, I just stand there, staring at my phone. Something about this—about her—feels... off.

And somehow, I already know— Scarlett isn't going to like it.

.  .  .

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

Y/n had stepped out to grab food, leaving me with Dylan and Anna in her apartment. I wasn't worried about anything—at least, I shouldn't have been.

Y/n had kissed me goodbye before leaving, her lips lingering just a little too long, her thumb brushing my jaw like she didn't really want to leave at all.

And yet, even with that, something felt... off. I wasn't overthinking. I was just noticing.

"Alright, Scar," Dylan says, pulling me from my thoughts as he leans back into the couch. "You're here, which means we have to discuss the important stuff."

I raise an eyebrow. "Which is?"

Anna smirks, tucking her feet under her. "How it feels to be part of the exclusive Y/n Evans Love Club™." I laugh, shaking my head. "Oh, is that a thing?"

Dylan nods. "Oh, yeah. It's an elite group. Very few people get in."

Anna tilts her head. "You're the first one to get reinstated, though. That's groundbreaking."

I roll my eyes. "You guys are the worst." Dylan grins. "We know."

The TV is on in the background, playing a random entertainment news segment. I'm only half paying attention—until I hear a familiar name.

"And with her next movie set to release in just a few months, Madelyn Cline is showing no signs of slowing down—"

I freeze. And then, there she is—flashing across the screen in a behind-the-scenes featurette of her latest film. Madelyn, smiling, laughing, glowing under the spotlight.

I don't even realize I've tensed until Anna shifts beside me. She doesn't say anything, but Dylan? Dylan is clueless.

"Oh, man," he mutters, shaking his head as he watches the screen. "That's wild."

I glance at him. "What?" Dylan shrugs. "Just thinking about how different things could've been, you know?" I feel a prickle of something—something I don't like. "Different how?"

Dylan, still oblivious, gestures toward the screen. "I mean, come on. Madelyn was it for Y/n for a long time. They were solid. If things hadn't gone the way they did..." He trails off, but the implication hangs heavy in the air.

I exhale slowly. "But things did go the way they did." Anna subtly nudges Dylan's leg with her foot. He frowns, glancing between us. "What?"

Anna gives him the stop talking look.

But Dylan doesn't stop. "Don't get me wrong," he continues, shifting in his seat. "Obviously, you and Y/n are... you know, meant to be and all that—"

Anna groans. "Oh my God, Dylan."

"What?" He blinks at her, then at me. "I'm just saying, it's not like Y/n and Madelyn ended on bad terms."

I feel the weight of his words settle in my chest. I keep my expression neutral. "Right."

Dylan finally notices the shift in the air. He sits up. "Wait. I—Shit. I didn't mean that in a bad way—"

Anna groans again, shaking her head. "Jesus, Dylan, take the shovel out of your hands. You're making it worse."

He looks at me, wide-eyed. "Scar, I swear, I wasn't trying to say—" I smile, but it feels forced. "It's fine."

"Shit," Dylan mutters under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have got to learn how to shut up." Anna sighs, shooting me an apologetic glance. "Ignore him. He doesn't know when to keep things in his head."

I nod, but the damage is already done. Dylan just said something I hadn't even let myself fully think about. Y/n and Madelyn never really ended on bad terms.

So if Madelyn ever needed her—would she still be there? Would Y/n still be her person?

I suddenly feel like I need air. I push up from the couch, stretching like I'm just casually moving around. "I'm gonna grab some water."

Anna watches me carefully, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Scarlett..." I force a small smirk. "What? You think I'm gonna spiral?"

She shrugs. "You do have a tendency to overthink." I scoff lightly. "I don't overthink. I just... process information thoroughly."

Dylan lifts a finger. "Sounds like overthinking."

Anna smacks him in the arm. I ignore them, walking toward the kitchen, placing my hands on the counter as I take a deep breath.

Don't spiral. Don't spiral. Don't—

I grip the counter. This isn't a big deal. Madelyn is Y/n's ex. She's in the past. But is she? Because if she still relies on Y/n... Where does that leave me?

I hear Dylan mutter something about digging his own grave in the living room, followed by Anna telling him to shut up and let me be. I close my eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out.

I'm not spiraling. I'm just... noticing.

And I can't unnotice it.

.  .  .

I hadn't planned on saying anything. Really, I hadn't. The rational part of my brain told me I was overreacting, that Dylan was just talking out of his ass, like he always did.

But the other part? The part of me that had spent months fighting for this, terrified I would lose Y/n again? That part wouldn't let it go.

Which is why I found myself at Chris's house, wine glass in hand, staring blankly at his kitchen island as he watched me like I was a time bomb waiting to go off.

"Okay." He sets his beer down, leaning forward on his elbows. "You're doing that thing."

I blink. "What thing?"

"The thing where you sit there, looking calm, but inside you're spiraling harder than a Marvel multiverse timeline."

I scoff, rolling my eyes. "I am not spiraling." Chris raises an eyebrow. "Scarlett. You showed up here unannounced, stole a glass of wine, and haven't spoken for five whole minutes."

I exhale, swirling the wine in my glass. He's not wrong. Chris leans in, smirking. "Tell me. Who do I need to kill?"

I huff a laugh, shaking my head. "No one." He waits. And waits.

Until finally, I groan, rubbing my temples. "Okay, fine. It's... it's about Y/n." Chris tilts his head. "Go on." I hesitate. "Dylan said something earlier."

Chris immediately groans. "Oh, Jesus. Dylan?"

"Yes."

"Scarlett, you know better than to listen to Dylan."

I shoot him a look. "Would you just let me finish?" He gestures. "By all means."

I take a breath. "We were just hanging out. Y/n had stepped out, and Madelyn's movie came on TV, and Dylan just—said things." Chris watches me carefully. "What kind of things?"

I shift uncomfortably. "That she and Y/n never ended on bad terms. That she still... relies on Y/n."

Chris's expression softens slightly. "Scar..." I shake my head. "I know. I know. I sound ridiculous, don't I?"

He shrugs. "I wouldn't say ridiculous." I sigh. "But you're thinking it."

Chris leans back, studying me. "Let me ask you something." I brace myself. "Go for it."

"Do you trust Y/n?" I stare at him. His words settle over me, heavier than I expect.

Do I trust her? I want to say yes. I do. But trust isn't just about her. It's about me.

And suddenly, I'm realizing that my fear? The thing curling up in my chest, making me question everything? It's not about Y/n at all. It's about me.

Chris watches me carefully, his voice softer now. "Scarlett." I swallow. "I do trust her. But... I don't know if I trust that I won't screw this up."

Chris exhales, rubbing his jaw. "Ah." I give him a wry smile. "Yeah. Ah."

He leans forward again, tapping his fingers against the counter. "Scar. Listen to me. You and Y/n? You've been through hell to get here. You chose each other. But if you let this eat at you, if you let some dumb passing comment from Dylan get in your head?"

I look at him. Chris meets my gaze evenly. "You'll be the one to mess it up. Not her." I inhale sharply. He's right.

God, I hate when he's right. I rub my forehead. "Why are you annoyingly insightful when I need you to just let me wallow?" Chris grins. "Because I'm the big brother of the year."

I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch. "I swear, you get cockier every day." He shrugs, sipping his beer. "It's the burden of being this wise." I sigh, setting my wine glass down. "You think I should talk to her?"

Chris nods. "Absolutely. But not from a place of accusation. Just... be honest. Lay it out. Let her reassure you." I hesitate, chewing on the inside of my cheek. "And if I don't like the reassurance?"

Chris levels me with a look. "You will." I narrow my eyes. "You sound so sure."

He smirks. "Because I know Y/n. And I know you. And I know that when two people love each other the way you two do?"

He shrugs. "They always find their way."

I stare at him for a long moment. And then, finally, I nod. Because maybe... just maybe... he's right.