“Yes, I’ll marry you!”

Cheers cried out across the restaurant as Chanyeol’s friends and family streamed out from their hiding spots in the shadows to congratulate the happy couple. Taking the opportunity of the chaos, I head over to the bar to drown away the burning feeling in my throat. Downing shots of tequila to distract from the tightening of my chest, I swivel in my chair to look over the festivities.

Scanning the crowd, I can’t help but focus on him. His face says it all; eyes crinkling at the sides, nose scrunched, and the widest grin he could muster. He’s truly content. Yet, what kind of best friend am I for being hurt over his happiness? It’s because of my stupid, damn feelings…

To be honest, I don’t exactly know when my feelings became something more than friendship. Maybe it was when I laid rigid in his sleepy embrace with sweating palms and a racing heart, hyper aware of his every little movement and the placement of his hands, knowing that our once comfortable sleepovers had changed into restless nights next to a guy I no longer considered as just a best friend. Perhaps it was when I couldn’t stomach the times he hugged, kissed or touched his girlfriend, feigning being sick, late or busy so I wouldn’t have to stand the sight. My friends reckon it was when I cried my heart out as we drove to the hospital, scared out of my mind after being vaguely informed of his biking accident by a stranger that called Chanyeol’s most recent contact. Though they still tease me about it, I still insist that staying by his bedside 24/7 was my best friend duty and deny that my misty eyes were an allergic reaction rather than overwhelming relief that the reckless idiot only broke his ing ankle. I was good at being in denial, so good that for years I’ve denied my own dreams of being his ‘the one’; fantasies that were fuelled by the ease we found in holding each other’s hands, laying in each other’s laps and soothing each other’s worries with forehead kisses.

However, I could pinpoint the exact moment I couldn’t rely on my years of denial to hide the fact that I had fallen in love with my best friend. That moment came when I had my first break-up.

“You’re in love with him. Right?”

Turning back to him, staring wide-eyed, I opened my mouth to automatically deny his accusation but the words died in my throat. It wasn’t an accusation...he had said it with certainty like it was a fact. His question wasn’t directed at me but rather he was questioning how he finally realised the truth. How was I supposed to keep being in denial when even the guy I was dating saw right through my best friend facade?

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you or deceive you-"

“It’s ok. I mean, it’s not the best for my ego that the girl I’m currently dating is in love with her best friend but I know you didn’t mean any harm. From how pale you look, I’m guessing that this is the first time you’ve come to terms with it. I think I should be sorry…it looks like you just watched your whole world collapse.”

“Is it that obvious? How did you know? You know, about my feelings...”

“First off, take a deep breath. I’m afraid you’re gonna faint with how white you’ve become. I had an inkling before but I only just confirmed it during this dinner. You’ve been sneaking glances at him and his date throughout the night and to top it off I’m pretty sure you physically shuddered and turned away w