What do you do when the breakup is over, but the social devastation is just beginning? The group chat, once a constant stream of memes and weekend plans, has gone dormant. Your phone, which once buzzed with invitations and check-ins, now sits dark and still on the counter. You see photos on social media—a birthday dinner, a casual Sunday brunch—and the faces are all familiar, but yours is conspicuously absent. It’s a sharp, specific kind of pain, a secondary amputation you didn’t see coming. The breakup was one death. This is another. This is the social fallout, the quiet culling of your life, where friends you thought were your own suddenly reveal they were only ever his, or hers, or simply ‘the couple’s.’ You tell yourself it’s not personal. You rationalize. ‘They have a longer history with him.’ ‘She was her friend first.’ ‘It’s just awkward for everyone.’ But the body doesn’t lie. The body feels the sting of exclusion as a physical blow. It’s a cold stone in the pit of your stomach. It’s a tightness in your chest when you’re scrolling through your phone late at night, a digital ghost haunting the edges of a life that was