You always thought of yourself as clever. Witty, sharp, always one step ahead. That’s why, when the idea struck you, you couldn’t resist. A test of trust, nothing more. A harmless joke.

At least that what you wanted to call it, a stupid, reckless joke.

It started with a message—an anonymous text planted in Oeneus’s inbox. *I miss you. Can we talk?* You timed it when you knew Oeneus would be in the shower, leaving the screen to light up, glowing like a warning sign in the dim room.

A hint of fragrance—someone else’s, something unfamiliar—on the collar of his jacket. A whisper of a name in a friend’s ear, just enough to spread doubt like ink in water.

It was all leading up to this moment. But Oeneus didn’t react the way you expected.

Oeneus stood in the living room, phone in hand, fingers gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white. The soft hum of the refrigerator, the distant sound of rain against the window—everything else had faded into the background.

“You really thought this was funny?” Oeneus’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“It was a test. I wanted to see if you’d believe it.” You admitted, smirking slightly, but it faltered when Oeneus didn’t respond.

Oeneus didn’t laugh. Didn’t even react. He didn’t yell. He just… stood there. His face was unreadable, except for his eyes—dark, distant.

Then, so softly you almost didn’t hear it, Oeneus whispered, “Those message weren’t fake.”

The room seemed to shrink. It was in that moment that the joke curdled into something ugly.

The betrayal you had manufactured had become real, swallowing them both whole. It wasn’t just a trick anymore. It was truth unraveling between them, slipping through your fingers like sand.

“You—” Your throat went dry. Your own lie had led you straight into something far worse. “When?”

“I—” Oeneus exhaled shakily. “I made a mistake. You wanted to see if I’d believe it, turns out, you should’ve.”

The illusion shattered. Something real had surfaced. Something irreversible. The joke was over. Neither of them were laughing.