Which Friends Character Represents Your Zodiac Sign?

Right after I got pregnant by accident, all three of my friends-with-benefits coworkers dumped me. "You're just a girl from an ordinary family. My parents would never accept you. Stop clinging to me." "Babe, my first love is back in the country. I can't keep playing this game with you anymore. It's over." "Take your dirty money and get the hell out of my life!" I didn't tell any of them. I slipped away to Europe and had the baby in secret. But the moment I disappeared, all three of them lost it: [You heartless woman.] [Anna, pulling the vanishing act again? Playing hard to get much?] [Baby, forget about her. I don't want my childhood sweetheart anymore. Just come back, please?]

I had a best friend who was sweet as honey but only with her mouth. Behind my back, she was a demon. She stole my boyfriend, the underboss of the Chicago Outfit. Her excuse? She wanted to keep me away from the darkness and the blood, so she'd take the suffering in my place. She pawned her wedding ring and fed her husband some story about a limited edition bag for me. She skimmed from her husband's company accounts and pinned it on my male escort habit. She was pregnant and still wanted thrills. So she went to a full-blown orgy with her husband's uncle and a group of his associates. That's how she ended up hemorrhaging. But somehow it was my fault. I was the one who organized that kind of party, according to her. And her story? She tried to stop me, so I pushed her down and made her lose the baby. In the end, her husband sent me to a cartel hellhole in Mexico to atone for my sins. There, her lover sold me to the red-light district. First came the addiction. Then the streets. I served every man in their outfit, one after another. My body rotted. I died slow, sick, and alone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night my best friend miscarried because of her own filthy party.

After returning from a three-month business trip, I rushed to meet my fiancé and resolve our dispute over my best friend, Elena. Elena’s ex-husband left her penniless and broken. I offered her my apartment, helped her "find herself" and accompanied her through nights of tequila-soaked sobbing. My fiance, Julian, hated it. Or so he said. "She’s a leech, Clara," he’d snap, watching her try on my designer coats. "She doesn't even know how to make toast without calling for help. Are you her best friend or her maid? People like her don't want to heal; they just want a free ride." She's lost everything, Julian," I argued."Without her, I wouldn't have survived my mother’s death. Please, just be patient for me." I let myself in quietly. The house was still, the air smelling of expensive candles and something else—something sweet and floral that wasn't mine. I walked toward the master suite, expecting to find Julian asleep. Instead, the door was ajar. The wine bottle I had brought to surprise Julian slipped from my hand, leaving me paralyzed for a moment. Elena was draped across my silk sheets. Julian was hovering over her, expertly shucking oysters—my favorite—and feeding them to her with a look of doting, soft-eyed tenderness he hadn't shown me in months. "You're so much better at this than she is," Julian purred. "Because she’s cold, Julian," Elena whispered, brushing a stray hair from his forehead. "She’s all business. She doesn't know how to satisfy men in bed." I stood in the doorway, my whole self trembling, not in cold but in pure rage and disgust. "I hope the oysters are fresh," I said, my voice cutting through the room like a blade.

My roommate was Rachel Travis, and something about her behavior always felt… off. On social media, she hit the like button on every single person’s posts, except mine. Whenever she asked for help, I was always there. However, the one time I asked her for a pad, she wrinkled her nose and called it "disgusting". For my birthday, I invited the whole dorm to dinner. When hers rolled around, she invited everyone, except me. Then, I saw my boyfriend, Ryan Cooper, at her birthday party. That’s when I finally snapped and confronted her. She looked at me, wide-eyed, all innocence. "What? Everything’s fine. Why are you acting like this? You’re just too sensitive." Even the other girls in the dorm piled on, saying I was overreacting and telling me I needed therapy. So maybe I was "too sensitive". Fine. Then, I would treat her exactly the way she treated me. Let’s see how she liked it.

I’d been with Hurley, the heir to the Crescent Claw pack, for seven years. He’d insisted on throwing me a huge birthday party. But on the day of the party, Hurley gave the million-dollar custom gown my mother had commissioned for me to his childhood friend, Rachel. He said it so casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Rachel’s dress got ruined, and we couldn’t find a replacement in time. You two are about the same size, so I just let her borrow it.” “I remember you have a few backup dresses, right? Why don’t you just wear one of those tonight?” I thought back on the past seven years, and how this wasn't the first time he'd put me second for Rachel. For one of my birthdays, he gave me a cheap necklace from a street stall but bought Rachel a ruby necklace at a high-end auction. His excuse? “You’re an Alpha’s daughter; you already have everything. Rachel’s different.” When I was sick with a fever and needed him, he was busy comforting Rachel because she was afraid of the dark. He’d told me, “Rachel’s fragile and timid. She needs me more.” It happened over and over again. This time, I was finally done. The borrowed dress and the unfaithful man—I wanted neither.

Ever since I was little, I have been able to hear what human organs were saying. My sickly roommate was overjoyed when she found out about this. “Lena, you can hear organs talk, and I’ve got gastritis. You must’ve been sent by the heavens to protect me! From now on, I’m putting my health in your hands, okay?” After that, she came up with endless ways to make me wait on her. “Lena, I sent you the pickup code. You know I have gastritis. I can’t walk too much.” “Lena, I want pasta tomorrow. Make sure you hurry back with it. If it gets cold, it’ll hurt my stomach.” Every time, I would simply let out a sigh and agree. It was until one day, when I came back after grabbing something to eat, I accidentally overheard her talking on the phone. “What, organs talking? If Lena could really hear them, wouldn’t she have figured out that I’m faking it by now? If she wants to play along, I’ll play along too. “Some people are born to be the heroine of the story. Others are born to be servants. Perfect timing. I picked out a dress today. Just watch how I get her to pay for it.” I pretended I had not heard a thing, I pushed open the door. The moment she saw me, tears welled up in her eyes. “You’re finally back! Lena, I asked ChatGPT today and it said my gastritis has progressed into a stomach ulcer. I might not have much time left. “There’s this three thousand dollar dress I’ve wanted forever. Consider it compensation for neglecting me. Think of it as granting my final wish!” I let out a sigh and placed the order for her anyway. The instant I checked out the item, I caught the smug look in her eyes. She thought I was stupid. What she did not know was that I really could hear her stomach speaking. It had been telling me that it was turning cancerous.