“She Was My Best Friend. Then She Became Something Else.”

We used to tell each other everything.

First crushes. Family drama. Late-night overthinking.

She was my safest place — my anchor when everything else felt chaotic.

I don’t know when it changed.

There wasn’t a defining moment.

Just… a slow shift.

The way her hand lingered a little longer on mine.

The way my heart picked up when she texted late.

The way silence between us started to feel charged — not empty.

“She’s my best friend,” I reminded myself.

Over and over.

As if that was the rule. As if that label meant nothing else could happen.

But something did.

Not a kiss. Not a confession.

Just a moment — one that lasted too long.

Her eyes locked on mine.

My breath caught.

Neither of us spoke.

And everything changed.

We never talked about it.

But we started talking less.

The safety became static. The comfort started to ache.

Because now, every time we laugh, there’s something underneath it.

Something fragile. Something unspoken.

I don’t know if I want her.

I don’t know if she wants me.

All I know is:

I lost my best friend.

And I think I lost her to me.