Unwanted Rivals

Title: Unwanted Rivals

I never asked for this. The sideways glances, the whispers that echo like shadows in crowded rooms, the smiles that look more like snarls. It’s ironic, really — all this drama for a man who isn’t even mine. A man who I have no intentions of making mine, but try telling them that. You’d think I stole a crown from their heads the way they act.

His name is Kieran — tall, dark, and the kind of handsome that’s almost infuriating. I can see why they want him. He’s got this magnetism about him, the kind that pulls people in without effort. Women adore him, men envy him, and he floats through life as if completely oblivious to the storm he’s causing. Or maybe he knows, but simply enjoys the chaos. I’ve never asked.

I remember the first time it became obvious I’d been marked as a rival. It was at a party — one of those gatherings where everyone is dressed to impress, but the tension is thicker than the perfume in the air. I was standing by the bar, sipping on a glass of red wine, when a group of girls walked by. Their laughter dropped an octave when they saw me. The one in the middle, blonde and stunning, gave me a look that could have frozen the drink in my hand.

“Enjoying your night?” she asked, her voice sweet but her eyes sharp.

“Yeah,” I replied, matching her smile. “You?”

“Oh, it was fine,” she said, her gaze flicking to Kieran, who was chatting with a few friends across the room. “Until you showed up.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You know what you’re doing,” she snapped. “You just love the attention, don’t you? I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

I could have told her then that Kieran and I weren’t together. I could have explained that our relationship was purely platonic, that whatever she thought she saw was nothing more than her own insecurities playing tricks on her. But I didn’t. I simply finished my wine, set the glass down, and walked away, leaving her standing there with her fists clenched and her face flushed with anger.

It wasn’t just her. It never is just one. They seem to come in waves, like a tide I can’t escape. At work, at social events, even on my social media, where they leave snide comments and vague, passive-aggressive posts. And Kieran, well, he just keeps being Kieran — charming, kind, and completely clueless about the war waged in his name.

Or maybe not.

One evening, after another exhausting encounter with one of his many admirers — a brunette this time, with lips painted the color of poison — I decided to confront him about it. We were sitting in his apartment, a place I’d come to often, though never with any romantic pretense. It was our safe space, where we could unwind, away from prying eyes.

“Kieran, do you realize how many women hate me because of you?”

He looked up from his book, brow furrowing in that adorable, boyish way he has. “Hate you? Why?”

“Oh, come on,” I scoffed, throwing a pillow at him. “You know why. You flirt with everyone, and they all think you’re interested in them. And then, when they see us together, they think I’m the one standing in their way.”

He caught the pillow easily, his smile slipping into something softer, more serious. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“You didn’t realize, or you just didn’t care?”

His silence was my answer. He set the book aside and moved closer, his gaze holding mine. There was something in his eyes, a flicker of something unspoken. It made my breath catch, and for a second, I wondered if maybe they were right. Maybe there was something more between us, something neither of us had been willing to acknowledge.

“You’re not in the way,” he said finally, his voice low and rough. “You’re the one I want by my side.”

I should have felt victorious. I should have felt like I’d won some unspoken contest, but instead, a wave of exhaustion washed over me. I thought about all the women who’d looked at me with daggers in their eyes, about the way their jealousy had made them ugly, the way they’d chosen to hate me instead of questioning Kieran’s intentions.

“This isn’t a prize I want to win,” I said softly, pulling away. “Not like this.”

He reached for me, but I stood up, shaking my head. “You’ve got to make a choice, Kieran. You can’t keep playing the field while pretending we’re just friends. You have to decide if you want me, or if you want everyone else’s attention.”

The room was silent as he stared at me, the realization dawning on him slowly. I could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between his charm and something deeper, something real. And for the first time, I felt like I had the upper hand. Not because I’d won him over, but because I’d made a choice for myself.

I left his apartment that night, feeling lighter than I had in months. I didn’t know if he’d come after me or if he’d continue with his games. I didn’t care. For once, I wasn’t the girl standing in the way — I was the woman who’d chosen to walk away.

Let them hate me if they want. At least I know I’m more than the sum of their insecurities and more than the man they covet. And maybe that’s the real victory.