He looks at the ceiling. Eyes closing. His jaw tight. His entire body looks like it’s clenched in one breath he can’t quite let out.
“Liam?” I repeat, my voice quieter now. “What happened? Why are you—?”
“I fucked up.”
His voice cracks.
Two words. Croaked out like they’re killing him.
A beat of silence passes, and I stare at him. I’ve seen Liam angry. I’ve seen him exasperated, frustrated, annoyed, flirty, even blackout drunk once in Vegas.
But I’ve never seen him...helpless. It’s like looking into a mirror.
“What kind of fuck-up are we talking here?” I ask, cautious. “TheI didn’t reply to a VC emailkind or theI need a shovel and an alibikind?”
He lets out a huff of air. It’s not a laugh. Not even close. More like disbelief. Self-loathing in sound form.
He finally turns to me.
“I hurt her.”
His voice is low. Ragged.
“And I don’t even think I realized I was doing it. That’s the worst part.”
My stomach drops.
I don’t need to ask who.
There’s onlyoneherin his vocabulary right now.
Kashvi.
For the next hour, Liam rants. Unfiltered. Disheveled. Fully spiraling.
“And then—two days ago—I didn’t even know I was tagged in that photo, okay? You know, man. YouknowI don’t check my fucking DMs or notifications. I’ve got like 50 followers. Zero posts. Instagram is basically my burner account for doom scrolling. But apparently—apparently—if someone tags you, your profile shows it toeveryone.” His arms dramatically flail at the word.
“It’s like sneak-attack social media warfare. I didn’t even—fuck.”
He looks like he might cry again.
And despite myself, despite everything... I snort.
“You can change who tags you in settings,” I offer unhelpfully.
Unsurprisingly, Liam punches me in the shoulder. “Shut it!”
The guy actually pouts. “I’m inhotwater, man. Vee is gonna murder me. With something blunt. Like my own phone.”
I rub my shoulder, still half-laughing. “You really are a dumb fucker.”
He groans and flops onto my couch, face buried in his hands. “This is worse than when I accidentally called a one-night stand’dude’in bed and she thought I was into pegging.”
I snort. “Sounds a lot like Kashvi. Maybe that’s how you win her back—”
His hand slaps over my mouth before I can finish.
“Don’t,” he mutters, voice pained.
