They had the conversation. He was her boyfriend. She was his girlfriend. The label was in place, and for a few weeks, the label felt like enough. But then a moment arrived, small and sharp, that cracked something open. They were at a party, and a woman she did not know came up to him with an ease that suggested familiarity. They talked for a long time. Laughing. Touching his arm. She watched from across the room, a cold weight settling in her stomach. When she asked him about it later, he said they had gone on a few dates before she and he had become official. They were just friends now. He had not thought to mention it. It meant nothing. But it did not feel like nothing. It felt like a boundary she had assumed was there, and realized too late had never been drawn.