Page 153 of A Solid Guide to Surviving a Situationship

When did loving him start to feel like something I had to carry alone?

My chest tightened, because the answer didn’t come all at once.

It crept in.

Like something I had already lived through, but never fully allowed myself to revisit.

Not the good parts. Not the version of us. But the part where it all fell apart.

When was it that something small turned into something sharp?

When was it that something easy turned into something that cut?

When was it that Victor’s love stopped feeling like love and started feeling like a weapon turned against me?

When was it where I lost myself—instantly, brutally, without even realizing?

I swallowed, my gaze dropping to my plate, because I knew exactly where it led. I had just chosen not to look at it…

…until now.

And once the memory started pulling me back, it didn’t ask for permission.

CHAPTER 18

WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN 2025

May 2025

Victor and I were in his living room, late afternoon light spilling through the windows. Soft and golden in a way that made everything look better than it actually was. He was on the couch, scrolling through his phone like he always did—relaxed, half-paying attention to the world around him.

I was beside him, leaning back, legs stretched out, trying to exist in that quiet space he created so effortlessly.

My phone buzzed.

A small smile formed when I saw Andi’s name. She had sent a screenshot of something I had posted on Instagram earlier, followed by a text that read: You look good, but your standards? Questionable.

I let out a soft laugh under my breath. It was very her—playful, a little sharp, but familiar in a way that didn’t cut too deep. Still, I stared at it for a second longer than necessary.

Then, without really thinking, I turned my phone toward Victor.

“Look,” I said, a small smile still on my lips. “Andi being Andi.”

He glanced at my screen, his eyes scanning it quickly.

For a second, nothing.

Then he let out a short breath—almost a laugh, but not quite.

“Well,” he said, shrugging lightly, “she’s not wrong.”

Something in me paused.

I let out a small chuckle anyway, because that’s what the moment seemed to ask for. “Wow. Okay.”

Victor leaned back further into the couch, completely at ease. “I mean I’ve seen your exes,” he added, his tone light—almost conversational. “You could’ve actually done better.”

There it was.