"There are moments in our lives when we find ourselves at a crossroad, afraid, confused, without a roadmap. The choices we make in those moments can define the rest of our days. Of course, when faced with the unknown, most of us prefer to turn around and go back."

                                                   —Lucas Scott

Ella

I can't breathe.
I'm frozen.
Scared.
Confused.
Tears slip down my cheeks, hot against my cold skin. But I barely feel them. I barely feel anything.

A voice calls out. Familiar. Safe. Home.
"Ella!"

I know that voice. It wraps around my name like a promise. Like protection. Roman.

"Els," he pleads.

Then another voice, sharper, filled with something heavier than anger.
"Don't fucking touch her."

Callum.

Where Roman is fire, Callum is steady, grounded. Where Roman’s presence burns, Callum’s presence anchors me. My best friend.

"Oh, fuck off, Cal," Roman snaps. "This isn't about you and me anymore. Can't you see she's upset? Ella, baby, open your eyes."

I don’t.
I can’t.

"Don't act like you care about her, Ro."

"I do fucking care about her."

"Bullshit."

The tension between them crackles, a lifetime of rivalry simmering beneath the surface. This isn’t the first time they’ve fought—over stupid things, reckless things—but never over me.

"Him or me, Ella."
That’s what Callum said. A choice. One I never wanted to make. One I never thought I’d have to.

How do you choose between your best friend and the boy who makes your heart ache in ways you don’t want to admit?
How do you choose when letting go of either one would destroy you?

"You don't know anything," Roman bites out.

Callum laughs, but it’s cold. "I know enough. I know you. You manipulated her into thinking you care, but you don’t. You never have. You only care about yourself. Always have, always will. You got what you wanted, Roman. Now leave her the fuck alone, or so help me—"

"You’ll what?" Roman challenges. "Punch me? You already had your free shot. Try it again, and see what happens."

Silence hangs between them, thick with history and resentment.

Then Callum speaks, voice steady. "I'm in love with her."

A sharp inhale. A moment suspended in time.

"Yeah?" Roman says, voice rough. "Well, that makes two of us."

My heart sinks.
They love me.
They’re in love with me.

Roman has never said it before. Neither of them have. Callum may tell me he loves me all the time, but never like this.

And now, they’re making me choose.

But I can’t.
Because I love them both.
But not in the same way.

"Ella?"

Callum’s voice. Gentle. Pleading.

Roman’s voice. Rough. Waiting.

My chest tightens. My world tilts.

I can’t do this.

I can’t.

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