By skyforbes 
I shouldn’t have clicked.
It was past one. I’d been sitting in the dark, scrolling through nothing, trying to avoid thinking. But her name came up—just her name. I don’t even follow her. Not directly. But someone else does. And the algorithm knows exactly how to fuck with me.
There she was.
I wasn’t looking for her.
I wasn’t even thinking about her—well, not actively—she’d just been there in the back of my mind all week. That moment in the café, how she passed me, said “hey” like it was nothing. But it wasn’t. She was flushed, kinda shy, like she didn’t even mean to speak. And I remember thinking, what the fuck was that about?
So no, I wasn’t searching for her.
I was just scrolling—half bored, half killing time—when I saw the post. Some Miu Miu girl. Knows everyone, never tags anyone. The photo wasn’t even that good—just her, a few racks, iced lattes, behind-the-scenes shit.
But then—
Her.
Just barely in frame. Her hair braided like honeyed rope, skin glowing like she hadn’t even tried, lips soft, glossy. She was saying something to someone off-camera, not even trying to pose. Like she forgot the world was watching.
But I was.
And then I saw it—
The caption:
“shoot day w/ pearl 👼 queen of the soft slay”
No tag.
No @.
No location.
Just her name like a dropped pin on a map I didn’t know I was following.
Something burned in my chest. Tight. Hot. Instant. Like jealousy had a taste, and it was bitter and slow.
So that’s where she’s been. That’s what she’s doing. While I’m here thinking about her—
She’s with them. She’s in it.
And she didn’t even tag the post herself.
Which means… she didn’t want to be found.
But I did.
I found her.
And now I can’t stop staring.
Who was she talking to in that moment? Who made her smile like that?
And why the fuck didn’t she look like that when she said hey to me?
I want to message her.
I want to find out who that post belongs to.
I want to know why the hell she looks so soft there and so goddamn untouchable now.
Because now I’m the one who’s flustered.
Now I’m the one staring too long.
Now I get it.
And I swear to God, if I see her again, I’m not just letting her walk past me this time.
And God, she looked so calm. Like she had nothing to explain.
I sat up.
It was the kind of picture that felt rehearsed, but also completely accidental. Like she’d just turned her head for a second and someone caught it. And suddenly the rest of the world stopped trying.
She didn’t tag anyone. No location. No caption. Not even a timestamp.
Just that mouth. That look. That quiet, knowing, devastating look.
I shut my phone. Waited. Opened it again. Saved it. Deleted it. Looked at it again.
I don’t know who she took that photo for. But if it wasn’t for me, I fucking hate that.