happy.

That warmth didn't last long.

As I lounged on the couch beside Y/n, her arm draped around me, my phone buzzed with a notification. It was Scarlett's Instagram post.

The caption, however, sent an icy chill through me.

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭'𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭

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scarlettjohansson: things got a little hot this weekend, nothing SPF 30 can't fix, keeps me determined to keep going 😎

scarlettjohansson turned off comments for this post.

It was vague enough to seem innocent to most people, but I knew better. So did Y/n. And so did people like Alba, Florence, and Dylan—anyone who knew the history.

I felt Y/n shift beside me as her phone buzzed too, likely with someone texting her about the post. She sighed, pulling me closer.

"Don't let her get to you," she murmured, her lips brushing my temple.

I nodded, though my stomach churned. "I won't. She's not worth it."

But the look in her eyes told me she knew this wasn't over. Not yet.