ClaireRegina254

Daniel stood alone in his apartment. The far-off wail of sirens along 7th Avenue echoed in through the window, but it was unable to drown out the question clawing in his mind. He stared at his reflection on the dark TV screen, and barely audible above the city noise, he whispered, “I love Cindy more than anything, but her best friend is a man.”
This question troubled him, month after month. Cindy was everything he desired: brilliant, ambitious, magnetic. Her laughter would light up a room. However, her connection with Frederick as her best friend since college was clouding Daniel’s heart. All the shared jokes reminded him he was not her everything. His desire was to have been her support, her trusted friend, and her only love, but fear held him back. The fear of pushing her away, the fear of appearing small, the fear of lack of not being enough.
He sat in his leather armchair holding his phone in hand, thumb hovering over Cindy’s name in his contacts list. Should he call her? Spill the insecurity gnawing on him? Or would that simply show his inability to integrate into her world, in which Frederick was an established reality, much like the city’s ceaseless beat? The fact Daniel wanted to have a life with Cindy, get married, have children, live in a brownstone in Park Slope, conflicted with his fear of losing her to someone who knew her better than he did. He closed his eyes, and here he left the question to hang unanswered. Bur Frederick’s presence was, however, a crack in his drafted blueprint, a factor he had no control over. Daniel gripped his phone tighter; the weight of his doubt forced him down. He desired to be enough for Cindy, but the fear that he wasn’t left him on the edge of silence and a loop of desires and doubts.

Her Bestfriend is A Man

Over the week, Daniel buried himself in his work at Apex Engineering and worked on a new high-rise in Midtown. But Frederick's shadow loomed larger, a reminder of his insecurity. Cindy mentioned him in passing-amusing texts he sent, memories of their college days. Every mention was a pinch, not only for Frederick, but for Daniel himself, his fear that he would never amount to anything. His desire to be everything to Cindy clashed with her bond with Frederick, and the tension was unbearable.

One Thursday, Daniel arrived at Cindy's loft with sushi from her favorite restaurant in hopes of a quiet evening. He used the key she had given him, stepping into her cozy space filled with art. To his dismay, Frederick was there, sprawled out on the couch next to Cindy, both engrossed in a FIFA match on her PlayStation. And they were jabbering and laughing like teenagers, and throwing out insults, unaware of Daniel's presence.

"Goal! " Frederick leaped to his feet and performed a mock victory dance."

"It was pure luck!" she retorted, throwing a pillow at him, her laugh bright and unguarded.

Daniel was in the doorway, frozen, the sushi bags heavy in his hands. The ease between Cindy and Frederick, the shared joy, was a stab through his heart. "This is what I want with her," he thought, but his fear screamed: "You will never have it." The scene was a vivid reminder of his insecurity; the shadow of Frederick's presence was looming longer.

Clearing his throat, Daniel stepped forward. Cindy turned, and her face lit up with surprise. "Daniel!" She leaped off her chair and came across to hug him. "I didn't expect you would come by so early! Look! Frederick is here—we are just finishing a game."

Daniel returned her hug and breathed in her perfume but was still watching Frederick, who was now watching them with a smile.

Frederick stood to shake his hand and offer a warm smile. "Cindy was telling me about your high-rise project. It sounds intense". It was reasonable why they clicked, and this deepened Daniel's fear.

Daniel answered, "So far, everything seems to be going smoothly," as he placed the meal on her table. "I came by with dinner for you if you'd like to eat."

Daniel hugged Cindy tight when she responded, "Thank you, we were right at the end of this game. Frederick was already getting ready to leave."

Yet, Frederick stayed at the table and didn't hurry away. Instead, he went back to the couch, grabbed his controller and got back to playing.

"On second thought, I'd like to finish the tournament we've been preparing for," he told Cindy. It's tied two-two, and I'm not ready to let you think you're better at FIFA.

Cindy laughed and looked between them, clearly torn. "Baby, do you mind if we finish this game? Fredrick has been mouthing off and I have to shut him up."

Daniel wanted to say no, insist that they had to eat the sushi he brought and claim the moment as theirs. But his fear of seeming controlling won. "Sure, go ahead," he said in a flat voice. He sat at the kitchen table eating alone as Cindy and Frederick resumed their game, their laughter echoing through the loft. The scene cemented his resolve: he had to do something to shift the dynamic.

It was in that moment, as Daniel saw them laughing and touching without thinking much about it, that anger and jealousy hit him with a force he thought he wouldn't feel. It was obvious how easy they were around each other. It was an experience like someone watching a couple after many years together.

He didn't say anything as I finished my meal and felt awkward as a visitor in his girlfriend's place.

The Unseen Rival