The part where even safe spaces felt complicated

After everything came out, I did what you're supposed to do. I went to my closest friends. The ones I trusted most. I vented. I cried. I let myself fall apart a little in front of them.

But something felt off even there.

I remembered that when I had blocked B the first time and gone to them, one of them said something strange — "the next time you vent to us, you'll definitely be crying because of the girl." I didn't understand it then. I filed it away and forgot about it.

Then when I saw the screenshots and broke down in front of them, it clicked. They already knew something. They had heard things from their friends and been asked not to tell me. That he had a girlfriend. Something he never told me. A guy who shared so much personal stuff, who spoke so well, who seemed so open — never once mentioned that.

And instead of sitting with me in that pain, one of them said "we already told you he wasn't right for you. he wasn't even good looking."

I was sad. I was embarrassed. And now I had to also explain that looks had nothing to do with why I liked him. That's not how any of this works.

Then came the part that stung differently. One of them told me he talks to the girl more than me. Tells her everything. Every single thing.

When I confronted him about it he said "well you tell everything to your friend too."

So I said fine. Take this lipstick. And I blocked him. Forever this time.

Except he texted from a friend's number.

And had the actual audacity to ask me to come to his farewell party.

I ignored it.

A few days later he texted again saying he would be waiting for me.

I didn't reply.

There's a specific kind of exhaustion that comes not just from being betrayed by someone you liked, but from realising that even the people closest to you were holding pieces of the puzzle and chose to watch instead of warn you. I don't hate them for it. But I felt alone in a way I didn't expect.

I liked someone who wasn't available, wasn't honest, and wasn't who I thought he was. My friends knew more than they said. And somehow I'm the one sitting with all of it.

But I didn't go to his farewell. I didn't reply. I didn't explain myself.

Sometimes that's enough.