Screen Burn

Maya's thumb hovered over Jake's instagram story — her third time checking today. She wasn't a creepy ex or anything. Just a former best friend who couldn't stop checking if he was happy without her.

That's when she saw it: Jake's iphone lying on the cafeteria floor, screen unlocked, messages open.

Maya's heart did that stupid flutter thing it still did when she thought about eighth grade, about how they'd beenfriend at 4 PM; she'd responded in one minute. Friendship apocalypse, level 99.

Now here she was, literally staring at his phone like some low-budget spy.

Inside, Jake and Elena were making plans without her. Again.

Maya shoved down the hurt. She'd been running every morning since the breakup — not the romantic kind, the friend kind. Coach said her 400-meter splits were improving. At least something was.

But running hadn't fixed how much she missed them. Missed the group chat that used to blow up her phone until midnight. Missed feeling like she belonged somewhere.

Maya picked up the iphone. She could send something fake from Jake's account, cause drama, ruin them like they'd ruined her. The temptation burned in her chest like acid.

Her thumb shook.

Then she noticed a draft message — to her. From last week.

"Maya, I know you probably won't read this but I'm sorry. We never should have iced you out. Elena's just been going through stuff and I didn't know how to be your friend and hers at the same time and I chose wrong. I miss you. Like, actually miss you."

Maya's eyes burned.

Outside, Jake burst through the cafeteria doors, frantic. "Has anyone seen my—"

He locked eyes with her.

Maya held up his phone. "You're going to want to change your group chat name, by the way. 'MayaWho' is kinda pathetic."

Jake's face crumpled into something between laughter and horror. "You saw everything."

"Everything." Maya stepped closer. "So are you gonna apologize for real this time, or do I need to screenshot your draft and put it on my story?"

Jake's shoulders dropped. "I'm sorry. Like, actually sorry. I was being a coward."

"Yeah, you were." Maya handed back his phone. "You still are."

He swallowed. "Can I fix it?"

Maya considered the friend she'd missed for three months. The one who'd left her on read but was clearly spiraling without her. The one she'd been spying on like a weirdo instead of just reaching out.

"Start with coffee tomorrow," she said. "And Jake? Next time you have something to say, use your voice. Not your screen."