Roselle Easton
Letting Aubrey sleep over at my place was a bad idea.
The clock had barely struck midnight when her phone rang, loud and sharp in the quiet room. I didn't even need to look to know who it was. Aaron—her boyfriend—calling to wish her a happy birthday.
She answered immediately.
I lay there on my side, watching her pace the room as she laughed softly into the phone. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Thirty minutes later, she was still talking, still smiling, completely wrapped up in him.
The small gifts on my nightstand felt heavier with every second.
I had planned this moment so carefully—midnight, her reaction, the squeal I knew would come. But she was still on the call. Eventually, disappointment gave way to sleep.
The next thing I heard was a squeal loud enough to make me sit upright.
"Oh my God! Roselle!"
Aubrey was standing in the middle of the room, staring down at two things I had left for her: a sleek car key and a folded document in one hand, and a shiny envelope in the other.
"You didn't," she whispered, breathless. "You actually didn't."
I blinked. "Check the names."
She unfolded the document first. Her eyes widened. "My name… it's in my name." Then her hand went to the key. "A Mercedes-Benz GLC? My dream car?" She squealed again. "I can't believe this!"
I smiled softly. "I knew you've wanted it forever."
She barely had time to breathe before ripping open the envelope. Inside was another surprise—a set of vacation tickets, plus one, to the destination she'd been dreaming about for years. She gasped, hands trembling. "Wait… plus one? Oh my God… Rose, we have to plan—this is perfect!"
My stomach sank a little as I realized she wasn't planning the trip with Aaron. She was planning it with me.
Her phone buzzed again on the bed.
Aaron.
She glanced at the screen, then back at me, already moving toward the door. "He's outside," she said, smiling. "We'll talk later. Thank you again, Rose. Seriously, this is the best birthday ever."
And just like that, she was gone.
The apartment fell silent.
I lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. I had given her everything she'd ever wanted—the car, the trip, both real, both exciting. Yet somehow, it still didn't feel like enough.
Maybe birthdays weren't about giving people everything.
Maybe they were about who stayed.
Yet somehow, a part of me still felt sad about Cole. He hadn't called me yet.
The next morning, I dressed carefully, slipping into a soft pastel A-line midi dress and pulling on my boots. I stood in front of the mirror, tilting my head slightly, running my fingers through my long, soft hair. My reflection looked effortless—gorgeous without trying, with skin like smooth white milk and a calm confidence I didn't always feel inside.
I had planned to go to the spa before heading to Aubrey's birthday lounge celebration. I needed the quiet, and I wanted to ask why Rachel hadn't come by yesterday.
Stepping outside, I froze. There he was. Cole, looking tense, almost worn out, standing in the soft morning light.
"Cole?" I said, surprise mixing with concern.
He glanced at me, rubbed his forehead, and gave a small, tired smile. "Hey… can I come in?"
I nodded and stepped aside, my mind spinning. Part of me wanted to go celebrate with Aubrey, to enjoy her birthday party with her. But another part—an undeniable, heavier part—knew that today, Cole was my priority.
We walked inside together, the quiet hum of the morning wrapping around us.
"Rose… I… I need to tell you something," he began, voice low, almost breaking.
I stayed silent, heart thudding, sensing the weight of whatever was coming.
He ran a hand through his hair. "Sloane… she's pregnant."
My chest froze. My mind went blank. Sloane? My stomach twisted, and my hands shook.
"W-what?" I stammered, disbelief and fury mixing into a tight ball in my chest.
Cole nodded, shoulders heavy. "I… I don't know what to do. She's saying things that aren't true… she's framing me, but my parents… they can't know. Not now. Not ever. Because of everything… my reputation."
I stepped back instinctively, anger flashing across my face. "Sloane? You mean… the Sloane I know?!"
He looked at me, eyes desperate. "I… I swear, Rose, it's complicated. I didn't—"
"Complicated?" I cut him off sharply, voice trembling. "Cole! Do you realize what you're saying? Sloane… pregnant?!"
My heart was pounding, a mix of shock, fury, and disbelief. I felt like the room was spinning. I knew Sloane, and the idea that she was carrying his child—but he hadn't told me anything until now—made me see red.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw something. And part of me… part of me wanted to help him, because I knew how dangerous this was for his family and his reputation. But right now… I was too angry to even think straight.
"You need to leave," I said, voice low but firm.
He hesitated. "Rose… I…..Are you sure you want me to leave..
"I do mean it, Cole! I'm angry. I'm tired of this! Leave!"
"Are you sure? You've said it so many times, but… I don't think you really want me to go," he pleaded.
My hands trembled at my sides. "I said it, Cole. I mean it. Now, leave. Please."
He paused, searching my eyes, then slowly turned and left, shoulders heavy.
The second the door clicked shut, everything broke inside me. I sank onto the couch, hands covering my face, and let the tears fall freely. I cried for him. I cried for myself. I cried because I didn't know how to handle this… or what to do next.
Even through my tears, I whispered softly into the empty room, "I want to help you, Cole… but I don't know how."
Somehow, in that fragile moment, I realized that caring for someone didn't mean letting go of your anger. It meant feeling both—the hurt and the compassion—and finding a way forward through both.
And right now, I need to see my best friend