My boyfriend’s childhood best friend is a foodie with a terrible memory. She can never remember where the best spots are. The amazing boba place on the East Side, the legendary lobster roll truck on the North Side—she gets them mixed up every single time. This has been a running theme, right up until my one-hundredth date with my boyfriend, Leo. Her call came, right on schedule. First, she wished us a happy date night on the East Side. Then, she mentioned she was dying for one of those lobster rolls. "You're basically passing right by it anyway," she chirped. "Grab one for me on your way back? You're a lifesaver!" Leo laughed, the same way he always did. "Silly goose," he said into the phone. "You got it mixed up again!" But after he hung up, he smoothly executed a U-turn. "We can have a date night anytime," he said, patting my knee. "But that truck sells out early. We've got to be a little patient with our forgetful little foodie, right?" I’d heard some version of that line ninety-nine times before. So this time, instead of being patient, I decided to go home and call my mother about that guy she wanted to set me up with. After all, who doesn't have a childhood best friend? 1 Hearing that, Leo slammed on the brakes. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He turned to look at me, his brow furrowed in disbelief. "Stella, what did you just say?" He paused, and as if a thought suddenly occurred to him, his expression softened. A small smile played on his lips. "Aw, is someone getting a little jealous?" he teased. "Daisy's just… you know how she is. If she gets a craving for something and can't have it, she'll literally cry herself to sleep." He reached over, trying to take my hand. "And you can't just joke about breaking up. That really hurts, you know?" He was talking to me like I was a pouting child. He wasn’t taking me seriously at all. So I looked him straight in the eye, my own expression unyielding. "Leo, I'm breaking up with you." The smile froze on his face. After a long moment, he looked past me, toward the highway sign pointing north. His voice was faint. "Just because I'm going to the North Side to get her a lobster roll?" I nodded. And then I shook my head. Yes and no. 2 I don't think it's a big deal to grab food for a friend. I'm not the kind of girlfriend who forbids her boyfriend from having female friends. What I care about is that every single time it’s inconvenient, every single time it’s out of the way, Leo chooses to derail our plans and drive across half the city, just to deliver a snack to his forgetful foodie of a best friend. Leo sighed, launching into the familiar explanation. "Stella, we're going to be together forever. We can go on a date any night. But Daisy hardly ever asks me for anything. How can I say no when she just wants us to grab something for her on the way?" "Hardly ever?" I repeated the words, a bitter laugh threatening to escape. When Leo and I first got together, he introduced me to all his friends. He made a special point of introducing me to Daisy, his "super sweet but totally scatterbrained childhood best friend." At first, I didn't think anything of it. So what if they grew up together? So what if everyone thought they were destined to be together? On our very first date, she called asking us to pick up some spicy wings. I didn't mind. Even when it turned out the place she wanted was an hour in the opposite direction of our restaurant. The next day, Leo and I made a special trip, bought the wings, and I went with him to drop them off. But when her dad opened the door, Daisy was nowhere in sight. Her father had a complicated look on his face. "That girl of mine," he sighed. "She gets these cravings. Realized she sent you to the wrong place and didn't want to bother you again. But she was so upset about it, she cried all night. Cried so hard she could barely breathe. Her mom had to take her to the ER this morning." Even then, I just thought she was a quirky, overly sensitive foodie who got a little dramatic when she was hungry. Leo, however, was consumed with guilt. "I've known her since we were kids, Stella," he told me. "She's like a sister to me. I promised her a long time ago that if she ever wanted anything to eat, I'd move heaven and earth to get it for her. I broke my promise." We went to the hospital to visit her. The doctor said she’d had an episode of respiratory alkalosis from hyperventilating. He warned us not to let her get that worked up again. Leo nodded frantically. He sat by her bed and soothed her like a child. "Don't you worry, Daisy. Next time you want something, your big bro will get it for you, no matter what." I didn't realize how serious he was. Until every single date after that. Daisy’s phone calls became a ritual, more reliable than an alarm clock. The boba from the East Side, the lobster rolls from the North Side. She never once remembered the right location. And every time, she'd sound devastated. "Oh, no," she'd whine. "Forget it. It's okay, I don't need it. I don't want to ruin your date." But just before hanging up, you could always hear the sound of a choked-back sob. Terrified of another hospital visit, Leo would turn to me with that pleading look. "Stella, we can reschedule. But if she doesn't get what she's craving, you know she'll cry all night. What if she ends up in the hospital again?" And then would come the U-turn, the drive to the opposite end of the city. Once, twice, three times, I told myself it was nothing. She was just a girl who really, really loved food. By the tenth, eleventh, twelfth time, I started to wonder. Even if you're that forgetful, can't you write it down? Use Google Maps? By the twentieth, thirtieth, fortieth time, it started to feel absurd. If you're that desperate for a lobster roll, call an Uber. Get it delivered. But according to Leo, "By the time a delivery driver gets it to her, it'll be cold. And Daisy's super picky about her food. It's just easier if I do it." He never sounded annoyed. In fact, he sounded proud, like it was a privilege. As for Daisy, every time he delivered, she'd grab my hands and apologize profusely. "Stella, I'm so, so sorry. Did I mess up your date with Leo again? I'm just so stupid, I can never get the locations right. I promise, next time I'll control myself. I won't call him, no matter how much I want something." Of course, that just made Leo feel even sorrier for her. "Don't be silly," he'd scold her gently. "It's not a big deal. Your sister Stella is the most understanding person in the world. She doesn't mind, do you, Stella?" He put me on a pedestal of "understanding girlfriend," leaving me no room to complain. And so, the cycle continued. But even I'm not that dense. After nearly a hundred interrupted dates, a hundred conveniently timed phone calls, and a hundred "forgotten" locations, the message was crystal clear. This wasn't about food. This was Daisy's way of showing me—and him—who really came first. Childhood sweetheart versus the new girlfriend. It was a test. After the ninety-ninth time, I had a huge fight with Leo. He swore up and down it would never happen again. I decided to believe him one last time. But on our one-hundredth date, the phone rang right on cue. The same conversation. The same U-turn. The same expectation that I would be the "understanding" one. And I was just so tired. "Leo," I said. "Let's just break up." 3 He didn't agree. He apologized over and over, even turning the car back around toward our original destination. We hadn't gone two miles before his phone rang again. It was Daisy, her voice thick with barely suppressed sobs. "Leo," she cried, "I tried to get a delivery service, but they said it would take three hours! I just checked the truck's social media, and they only have three lobster rolls left! I guess I'm not going to get one after all, boo hoo…" Her crying grew louder, and the look of distress on Leo's face deepened. He softened his voice to a gentle coo. "Hey, hey, it's just a lobster roll. Don't cry. Your big bro is on his way right now. I'll definitely get one for you." I sat in the passenger seat, silent, listening. The moment he hung up, he started another U-turn. This time, I didn't just sit there. I unbuckled my seatbelt. While the car was still moving, I reached for the door handle. That got his attention. He slammed on the brakes. I yanked the door open and got out. Leo was out of the car in a flash, jogging to catch up with me. He grabbed my arm, his voice soft and placating. "Stella, I swear, this is the last time. Please don't be mad, okay?" He gestured around at the dark, empty road. "It's late, there are no cabs out here. Are you really going to walk home?" "Stella, please, just trust me this one last…" His phone buzzed. A text from Daisy, no doubt. A second later, her panicked voice message played from his phone's speaker. "Leo! They only have one left! There's only one left! What do I do?" "Don't worry, I'm almost there," Leo texted back. Then he let go of my arm. I looked at him. There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, a moment of conflict. But it passed. He got back in the car and rolled down the window. "Stella, I have to go. Are you sure you won't come with me?" I didn't answer. He had to choose. It was me or Daisy. It had always been me or Daisy. And he had made his choice. The car started to roll forward. "Okay, well… I'll go get this for her, and then I'll come right back and pick you up. Don't go anywhere." Then he hit the gas. The car sped off, disappearing around a bend in the road in seconds. No hesitation at all. I put a hand over my heart. The heart that once beat so fast for him now just ached. But this time, I knew I had to make a clean break. I looked around. It was nine p.m. Our date was supposed to be at Starlight Point, a scenic overlook deep in the hills east of the city. We were going to stay the night at a little cabin up there. The road was remote. From the woods on either side, I could hear the occasional cry of some animal. Other than that, the highway was utterly, terrifyingly silent. 4 That night, Leo never came back for me. Not that I expected him to. For our special date, I'd dressed up. I was wearing a short dress and five-inch heels, completely impractical for the crisp autumn air. It wasn't that far back to the city, but on foot, it would take hours. I tried calling an Uber. The app just spun and spun. "No cars available." It was a weeknight. My closest friends all had jobs; they'd be asleep, phones on silent. I didn't want to bother them. I had to walk. The heels were beautiful, but they were torture. In less than an hour, my ankles were rubbed raw and bleeding. I took them off and walked barefoot. The asphalt was rough and littered with sharp bits of gravel. In the dark, I couldn't see them, and every few steps, a searing pain shot up my leg. I don't know how long I walked. My phone battery was draining fast. The silence was unnerving, so I started scrolling through social media, just for the noise and light, to feel less alone. I saw that Daisy had just posted to Instagram. A nine-photo carousel. There was a picture of a steaming, delicious-looking lobster roll. A cute selfie of her with a happy, full-mouthed smile. And a picture of her standing next to Leo, who had an expression of fond exasperation on his face. The caption read: *The best feeling in the world is knowing there’s someone who will magically appear with whatever you're craving, just like a genie in a bottle. ✨* The comments were from their mutual friends. *You two are so cute together! ❤️* *Couple goals!* How ironic. Maybe it was a rule that breakups required rain to set the mood. The sky opened up without warning. A few drops at first, then a full-blown, freezing downpour. The big, heavy drops stung my face. There was nowhere to take shelter. The wind picked up, and soon I was soaked to the bone, shivering uncontrollably. The cuts on my feet burned. By the time I finally limped into the city limits, it was three in the morning. The rain had let up a little, but I was in pain, freezing, and still a half-hour walk from my apartment. I found the nearest hotel and checked in. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I examined my feet in the bright light. They were a mess, crisscrossed with cuts. When I'd walked into the lobby, the night clerk had gasped at the trail of bloody footprints I'd left behind and asked if he should call the police. I ordered some antiseptic from a 24-hour delivery service. It stung like hell as I cleaned the wounds, but I was too exhausted to be thorough. I didn't even have the energy to shower. I just bandaged my feet clumsily and collapsed onto the bed. When I woke up the next morning, my left foot was throbbing. One of the cuts must have had a piece of gravel still in it. The wound was inflamed and oozing, and putting any weight on it felt like stepping on a knife. I had no choice but to call a cab and go to the hospital. The doctor confirmed the infection, cleaned and bandaged my foot properly, and warned me to be careful for the next few days. Then he looked at my face. "You look terrible," he said frankly. "Let's get your temperature. After being out in the rain like that, you probably have a fever." He was right. I took the prescription he wrote and went to the hospital pharmacy. On my way, in the hallway, I saw him. Leo. And next to him, bouncing on the balls of her feet, was a perfectly healthy-looking Daisy. Leo’s face went pale when he saw me. He rushed over, his voice a frantic whisper. "Stella, I was going to come back for you, I swear. But Daisy was crying so hard she started having trouble breathing again. She was dizzy and nauseous, it was way worse than before. I had to bring her to the ER. I figured you could probably get a cab…" His words trailed off as his eyes fell on my bandaged foot. "Stella… you're hurt?" If this had been yesterday, I would have been furious. My boyfriend had abandoned me, again, for another woman. But last night, I had ended it. We were nothing to each other now. I could be on my deathbed, and he wouldn't have the right to shed a tear. I pulled my arm away from his touch. "I told you last night, Leo," I said, my voice cold and flat. "We're broken up." From across the hall, Daisy’s eyes lit up for a split second before she arranged her features into a mask of concern. She hurried over. "Oh, Stella, I know this is all my fault," she said, her voice trembling. "If I wasn't so greedy, Leo wouldn't have had to postpone your date. I'm so sorry he left you stranded out there. Blame me, please. Don't be mad at Leo, I…" "Fine," I cut her off. "I'm not mad at him. And we're not breaking up." The mask on Daisy's face shattered. Her expression turned ugly for a brief moment before she clutched her chest dramatically. "Leo," she gasped, "I feel… dizzy. My chest hurts. But it's okay. If Stella wants to take her anger out on me, she can. It's all my fault anyway." As she spoke, Leo was already moving to support her. She sagged against him, a perfect picture of fragile distress. Leo looked at her with pure, unadulterated concern. Then he looked up at me, and his eyes were filled with reproach. "Stella, stop it. Don't bully her. She's just a little clueless, that's all. If you're angry, take it out on me, but leave her alone. She was sick all night. She's a patient. Can't you have a little compassion?" A patient? I looked at Daisy, nestled in Leo's arms. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes bright. Then I thought of my own reflection in the mirror that morning: pale lips, tangled hair, a thick bandage on my foot. Who was the patient here? Love really is blind. It was true. I didn't say another word, but my silence seemed to unnerve Daisy. She suddenly lunged toward me. "Stella, if you want to blame someone, blame me! Don't blame—ah!" She had been moving toward me, but just as she got close, she threw herself backward with a theatrical shriek. Leo, standing right behind her, reacted instantly. He didn't even think. He shoved me out of the way. One powerful arm wrapped around Daisy, catching her just before she hit the floor. She was safe. I, however, was not. My left foot was injured, my balance already precarious. The unexpected push sent me stumbling backward. My head cracked against the wall, sending stars bursting behind my eyes. I crumpled to the ground, a fresh wave of agony shooting up from my injured foot. "Stella! I didn't mean to! I was just trying to catch Daisy before she hit her head…" Leo looked down at me on the floor, his face a mess of panic. He let go of Daisy and rushed to help me up. I flinched away from his touch. "Can you please," I said, my voice shaking with disgust, "stop being so disgusting?" One minute, he's telling me he loves me. The next, his every instinct is to protect her. A relationship can't have three people in it. Trying to have both was just… gross. His hand froze in midair. His eyes widened. "You think I'm… disgusting?" I didn't have to answer. Daisy did it for me, clutching her chest and starting to cry again. "Leo, I feel so sick." Her words snapped him back to attention. He scooped her up in a princess carry and turned to me, his voice a jumble of explanations. "Stella, I am not breaking up with you. We'll talk about this, I promise. But Daisy isn't feeling well, I have to get her to a doctor. I'll come find you as soon as she's okay…" The same empty promises. The same disgusting words. He disappeared with her around the corner. I used the wall to pull myself up, my heart a block of ice in my chest. This was the man I had given my heart to. What a joke. Just then, my phone rang. It was my mom. A traditional, wonderfully stubborn woman. "Stella, honey," she started without preamble, "you're not getting any younger. Either you bring that boyfriend of yours home so we can talk about getting married, or you listen to me and meet up with Cole. You remember Cole, old Mr. Henderson's grandson? He just moved back from overseas. You two grew up together, you know each other…" "Okay," I interrupted her. "I'll do it. I'll meet Cole." There was a pause on the other end. "Are you sure?" I looked down at my foot. Fresh blood was seeping through the white gauze. "Yes," I said. "I'm sure. And I won't regret it." After all, who doesn't have a childhood best friend?
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