The video call notification popped up on Donovan's laptop just as he was closing out of yet another tab of Barcelona job listings he'd been scrolling through. He'd told himself he was just curious, just browsing, but the browser history told a different story—fifteen tabs about Spanish work visas, twelve PR agencies in Barcelona, and a saved document titled "cost of living estimates."

  He quickly closed everything and answered Emma's call. Her face appeared on the screen, hair tied back with what looked like a silk scarf, her dorm room in London visible behind her with its collection of art prints already covering the walls.

  "There he is!" Emma said, her bright smile genuine. "The mysterious ghost who hasn't responded to my messages in two weeks."

  "Sorry," Donovan grimaced. "It's been crazy with exams and—"

  "And avoiding your best friend from Barcelona who can read you like a book?" Emma's tone was light, but her eyes were sharp, assessing. "Come on, Donovan. I know avoidance when I see it."

  Donovan laughed despite himself. That was Emma—able to call him out while somehow making it feel like she was on his side. "You got me. Things have just been... complicated."

  "Complicated," Emma repeated, leaning closer to her camera. "Okay, so—you're still talking to Alejandro, aren't you?"

  The directness of the question caught Donovan off guard. He'd been expecting to ease into this conversation, maybe dance around it for a while. But Emma, as always, went straight to the heart of things.

  "Yes," he admitted. "We text most days. Sometimes video calls."

  "And Tyler knows about this?"

  Donovan's silence was answer enough.

  Emma let out a long breath, running a hand over her face. "Okay. Wow. So you're just... what, sneaking around to talk to him? While Tyler thinks you came home and moved on?"

  "It's not sneaking around exactly," Donovan protested. "We're just friends keeping in touch."

  "Donovan." Emma's voice was gentle but firm. "I lived down the hall from you for three months. I saw you two together. That wasn't 'just friends' then, and I'm guessing it's not 'just friends' now."

  Donovan looked away from the screen, focusing on a spot on the wall behind his laptop. "He's going through a tough time with school. I'm just being supportive."

  "Okay, but if it's just friendship and support, why are you hiding it from Tyler ?" Emma asked. "Like, genuinely asking."

  The observation hit home. Donovan had been telling himself the same thing—that if this was innocent, why did he feel the need to delete messages, to have calls only when Tyler was out, to lie about who he was texting?

  "I don't know what I'm doing," Donovan admitted quietly. "I know I should probably stop. I know I should just... move on, focus on my life here with Tyler . But every time I think about cutting contact with Alejandro, I just... can't."

  "Why not?" Emma asked, softer now.

  Donovan was quiet for a long moment, trying to articulate something he'd been avoiding examining too closely. "Because talking to him makes me feel like myself," he said finally. "Like the version of myself I was in Barcelona. And I miss that person. I miss feeling that present, that... I don't know, authentic?"

  Emma nodded slowly. "And with Tyler?"

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "With Tyler I feel... safe. Comfortable. Like I'm following a script I've been reading for years." Donovan paused, hearing his own words. "That sounds terrible, doesn't it?"

  "It sounds honest," Emma said. "Which is kind of rare right now, honestly."

  "What am I supposed to do?" Donovan asked, frustration creeping into his voice. "I can't just throw away a three-year relationship because I had a summer thing that felt intense. That's not how real life works."

  "I don't know," Emma said, and there was something refreshing about hearing her admit uncertainty. "I really don't. But I do know that what you're doing right now? It's not sustainable. You can't just... exist in two places at once forever."

  "I'm not—"

  "You kind of are though," Emma interrupted gently. "Look, I don't know what to call it. Emotional affair? Secret relationship? Whatever. But you're hiding it, and that means something, right? If it was innocent, you wouldn't need to hide it."

  Donovan closed his eyes. "I know."

  "And it's not fair," Emma continued. "Not to Tyler, who has no idea what's going on. Not to Alejandro, who—I mean, does he even know you're with someone? And honestly, not to you either, because this guilt thing is clearly eating you alive."

  "You make it sound so simple," Donovan said. "Just decide, just be honest. But it's not that easy."

  "I never said it was easy," Emma replied. "God, it sounds awful, actually. I'm not trying to make you feel worse, I'm just—" She paused, searching for words. "I care about you, and watching you torture yourself like this kind of sucks. Something's going to give eventually, and I'd rather you have some control over it instead of it all just... exploding."

  They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Finally, Emma spoke again, quieter this time.

  "Can I ask you something? And you don't have to answer, but just... think about it?"

  "Okay," Donovan said.

  "What do you actually want? Like, if you could wave a magic wand and have any outcome—what would it be?"

  Donovan opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. He didn't have an answer. Or rather, he did, but it was complicated and messy and would require admitting things he wasn't ready to admit.

  "I don't know," he said finally.

  "That's okay," Emma said. "But maybe figure it out? Because I think you're kind of stuck until you do."

  "What if I can't figure it out?"

  Emma shrugged. "Then... I don't know. Keep thinking about it? Take some actual time to sit with it, not just late at night when you're scrolling through Barcelona job listings."

  "How did you—"

  "Please, I know you," Emma said with a small smile. "You're not subtle."

  Donovan managed a weak laugh despite everything.

  "Look," Emma said, leaning back in her chair, "I'm not going to tell you what to do. I don't think anyone can. But maybe just... pull back a little with Alejandro? Not cutting him off entirely if you can't, but like, maybe some boundaries? Stop the midnight calls. Stop hiding so much. If you can't tell Tyler about a conversation, maybe that's a sign you shouldn't be having it."

  It was reasonable advice. Uncomfortable, but reasonable. Donovan nodded slowly.

  "And be kind to yourself," Emma added. "But also—and I say this with love—be honest. Because right now you're being neither, and that's not working out great."

  "When did you become so wise?" Donovan asked.

  "I've always been this wise," Emma replied, some of her usual lightness returning. "You were just too busy being lovestruck to notice."

  They talked for a few more minutes about easier things—Emma's classes, a pretentious professor she couldn't stand, the terrible London weather. But when they finally said goodbye, Emma's last words lingered.

  "Just think about it, okay? What you actually want. Not what you think you should want. What would make you happy."

  After the call ended, Donovan sat in the quiet of his apartment, Emma's words echoing in his mind. He looked at his phone—an unread message from Alejandro, a notification about Tyler being home in forty-five minutes.

  Emma was right. Something had to give. He couldn't keep living like this, divided between two worlds that couldn't coexist.

  But knowing something had to change and actually making that change were two very different things.

  He picked up his phone and started typing a response to Alejandro, then stopped. Boundaries, Emma had said. Be more intentional.

  Instead, he set the phone down and opened his laptop again, pulling up a blank document. "What do I actually want?" he typed at the top.

  The cursor blinked at him, waiting. He sat there for several minutes, fingers poised over the keyboard, but no words came.

  Some questions, he was learning, were easier to ask than to answer.