The resort's breakfast terrace should have been paradise. Palm trees swayed in the morning breeze, the ocean sparkled beyond the infinity pool, and the buffet spread looked like something from a travel magazine. But all I could focus on was the way Sophie's fingers lingered on Cole's wrist as she handed him a piece of pineapple.

"Try this one," she said, her voice soft and intimate in a way that made my stomach clench. "It's perfectly ripe."

Cole opened his mouth without hesitation, letting her feed him like they'd done this a thousand times before. A drop of juice ran down his chin, and Sophie laughed—that musical laugh that had already started to grate on my nerves—before reaching out to catch it with her thumb.

"You always were messy when you ate," she teased, and Cole's eyes crinkled with a warmth I hadn't seen directed at me since we'd arrived.

I pushed eggs around my plate, my appetite vanishing as I watched them share bites from each other's plates. When I'd tried to offer Cole some of my toast earlier, he'd barely glanced at it before turning back to whatever story Sophie was telling about their old math teacher.

"Remember when Mrs. Peterson caught us passing notes?" Sophie was saying now, her hand resting casually on Cole's forearm. "She made us read them out loud to the whole class."

"God, I was so embarrassed," Cole said, shaking his head. "But you just owned it. You never cared what anyone thought."

"I cared what you thought," Sophie replied, and something in her tone made me look up sharply. Her eyes were fixed on Cole's face with an intensity that felt too private for a casual breakfast conversation.

I cleared my throat. "That sounds like you two had quite the partnership back then."

Sophie's gaze flicked to me, and for just a moment, her expression was unreadable. Then she smiled that perfect smile again. "Oh, we did. Cole never used to be so generous with sharing back then, though. I had to steal his cookies if I wanted any."

The comment hit like a subtle slap. I watched Cole laugh and shake his head, completely missing the implication that I somehow didn't deserve the generosity she'd had to fight for.

"Things change," I said quietly, but neither of them seemed to hear me.

Later, as we walked back to our rooms to change for the pool, I noticed Cole fumbling with his phone. The screen lit up, and I caught a glimpse of his lock screen—but instead of the photo of us from prom that had been there yesterday, I saw a generic ocean sunset.

"Did you change your wallpaper?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

Cole's thumb moved quickly over the screen. "Yeah, thought I'd try something new for vacation."

But it was his phone charm that made my blood run cold. A small silver dolphin dangled from his case—identical to the one swinging from Sophie's phone when she'd pulled it out to show us photos at breakfast.

"That's a cute charm," I said, my voice barely steady. "Where did you get it?"

"Gift shop in the lobby," he said without meeting my eyes. "Sophie and I saw them when we went down for ice last night."

Last night. While I'd been sleeping, trusting him completely, he and Sophie had been wandering the hotel together, buying matching trinkets like teenagers with a secret.

"You went to get ice together?" The question came out sharper than I'd intended.

Cole's jaw tightened. "Emma, it's not a big deal. She was having trouble with her key card, and I helped her out. We ran into each other in the hallway."

"And decided to go charm shopping?"

"You're being paranoid," he said, and the dismissive tone in his voice felt like a door slamming shut. "They're just phone charms. It doesn't mean anything."

But as I stared at the matching silver dolphins, I knew that wasn't true. Nothing about this trip felt like coincidence anymore.

An hour later at the pool, I tried to lose myself in a book while Cole and Sophie splashed around like old friends. The sun was warm on my skin, and the sound of other vacationers laughing should have been relaxing. Instead, every nerve in my body felt wound tight.

"Emma, could you grab my sunscreen?" Sophie called from the water. "I think I'm starting to burn."

I tossed her the bottle, expecting her to climb out and apply it herself. Instead, she waded over to where Cole was floating on his back.

"Cole, could you help me with my back?" she asked, her voice taking on that vulnerable quality again. "I can never reach the spot between my shoulders."

I watched, frozen, as Cole immediately stood up, water cascading off his chest. Sophie turned around, gathering her wet hair to one side and exposing the smooth expanse of her back. Cole's hands moved over her skin with a familiarity that made me feel sick.

"Don't miss the shoulders," Sophie murmured, tilting her head to give him better access. "I burn so easily there."

Cole's fingers worked methodically across her shoulder blades, and I could see the way Sophie's eyes drifted closed, a small smile playing at her lips. "You always were good at taking care of people," she said softly. "Some things never change."

"I do my best," Cole replied, his voice rough in a way that sent alarm bells screaming through my head.

When his hands lingered on her shoulders, massaging rather than just applying sunscreen, I couldn't watch anymore. I snapped my book shut and stood up so abruptly that my chair scraped against the concrete.

"I'm going back to the room," I announced.

Cole looked up, his hands still on Sophie's skin. "Already? We just got here."

"I have a headache," I lied, grabbing my bag with shaking hands.

As I walked away, I heard Sophie's voice floating across the water: "Poor Emma. Maybe the sun is too much for her."

And Cole's response, casual as breathing: "She'll be fine. She always is."

But as I rode the elevator back to our floor, those matching dolphin charms burned in my memory like brands. I wasn't fine. I wasn't fine at all.

The beachfront restaurant I'd found online looked exactly like the photos—soft lighting, waves lapping at the shore just beyond the windows, couples sharing intimate conversations over candlelit tables. I'd made the reservation weeks ago, imagining Cole and me finally having uninterrupted time together, away from Sophie's constant presence.

But as we were seated at our table for two, Sophie appeared like a mirage I couldn't escape.

"What a coincidence!" she exclaimed, though her perfectly timed arrival felt anything but accidental. "I was just about to eat alone at the bar, but this is so much better."

Before I could protest, she'd already signaled the waiter to add a third chair to our intimate table. Cole's face lit up with that same eager expression I'd been seeing for three days straight.

"Sophie, that's great," he said, completely missing my clenched jaw. "Emma found this place online. She's great at finding hidden gems."

The compliment felt hollow when he immediately turned his attention back to Sophie, who was studying the menu with theatrical concentration.

"Ooh, buffalo wings," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Extra spicy. I love food with a kick."

My stomach clenched automatically. Cole knew about my condition—how spicy food triggered my gastritis, leaving me doubled over in pain for hours. He'd spent two years carefully checking restaurant menus with me, steering us away from places that might cause problems. It was one of the small ways he'd shown he cared, one of the reasons I'd trusted him so completely.

"That sounds perfect," Cole said without hesitation. "I'll get the same."

I stared at him across the flickering candle. "Cole, you know I can't—"

"Emma, just order something else," he said dismissively, not even looking at me. "Not everything has to revolve around your stomach issues."

The words hit like a slap. Sophie's smile widened as she watched the exchange, her blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"Oh, do you have dietary restrictions?" she asked with false concern. "I'm sorry, I had no idea. We could order something milder—"

"No," I said quietly, my voice steady despite the hurt racing through my chest. "Order whatever you want."

When the wings arrived, glistening with bright red sauce, Sophie made a show of biting into one, her lips glistening as she sucked the sauce from her fingers.

"These are incredible," she moaned, closing her eyes dramatically. "Cole, you have to try this one—it's the perfect level of heat."

What happened next made my blood freeze in my veins. Sophie took a large bite of her wing, the meat half-chewed and sauce-covered, then leaned across the table toward Cole with her mouth still full.

"Open up," she said playfully, holding the partially eaten wing toward his lips.

Any normal boyfriend would have laughed it off, grabbed his own wing, made some joke about sharing food. But Cole opened his mouth without hesitation, accepting the wing Sophie had already been eating, his teeth closing around the same spot her mouth had just been.

I watched in horror as he chewed thoughtfully, sauce staining his lips the same shade as hers.

"You're right," he said, licking his fingers clean. "Perfect heat."

Sophie giggled, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with her napkin. "You missed a spot."

The intimacy of the gesture, the casual way Cole accepted her touch, the complete disregard for my presence at the table—it all crashed over me like a wave. This wasn't friendship. This wasn't innocent reminiscing about middle school. This was something else entirely.

My phone buzzed against my leg. A text from my best friend: "Emma, call me. NOW."

I excused myself to the bathroom, my hands shaking as I dialed her number.

"Thank God," she said immediately. "I've been trying to figure out how to tell you this. Sophie's been posting all over social media. Photos of her and Cole sharing drinks, videos of them at the pool, captions about 'indirect kissing hundreds of times' and their 'unbreakable middle school bond.'"

The bathroom walls seemed to close in around me. "What do you mean, indirect kissing?"

"She's posting about sharing straws, eating from the same plates, using each other's chapstick. Emma, she's making it sound like they're together. Like you don't exist."

I closed my eyes, remembering every shared bite, every casual touch, every moment I'd dismissed as innocent friendship. The matching phone charms. The midnight ice run. The way Cole's hands had lingered on her skin while applying sunscreen.

"How many people are seeing this?" I whispered.

"Everyone. She's tagged your mutual friends from school. Emma, I'm so sorry."

I ended the call and splashed cold water on my face, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The girl looking back at me seemed smaller somehow, diminished by three days of being treated like an afterthought in my own relationship.

When I returned to the table, Sophie was feeding Cole another wing, their fingers intertwining as he accepted it. Neither of them looked up when I sat down.

"We need to talk," I said quietly to Cole. "Back at the hotel."

He finally glanced at me, his expression annoyed. "Can't it wait? We're having a good time."

"No," I said, standing up and placing my napkin on the table. "It can't."

As I walked toward the exit, I heard Sophie's voice floating behind me: "Don't worry about Emma, Cole. She'll get over it. She always does."

But this time, I knew with crystal clarity, she was wrong.