Betty Cooper sat on the worn leather couch in her tiny Riverdale apartment, her heart pounding as the text notification lit up her phone. She stared at the screen, her breath catching when she saw the name—Archie Andrews. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, torn between responding and leaving it alone. But she knew she wouldn't resist. She never could.
Archie: Hey, can you come over?
She sighed, her mind racing as she thought about what this meant—another late-night visit, another round of stolen moments in the dark. It wasn't like the times when they were teenagers, when they could pretend their connection was innocent. Now, their meetings were different, tinged with secrecy and guilt.
The lyrics from Taylor Swift's "illicit affairs" echoed in her mind: "And clandestine meetings and stolen stares, they show their truth one single time, but they lie, they lie..." Betty knew what they were doing wasn't right, but she couldn't stop herself. There was something intoxicating about being with Archie, about feeling like she was the only one who knew the real him. But there was also something suffocating about it, like every secret moment chipped away at her soul.
She typed a quick reply.
Betty: I'll be there soon.
When Betty arrived at Archie's house, the street was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the streetlights. She parked a few houses down, like she always did, not wanting to draw attention to her car being at Archie's place so late at night. Her heart raced as she made her way up the familiar steps to his door, the weight of what she was about to do pressing down on her.
Archie opened the door before she could knock, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her chest tighten. He stepped aside to let her in, and she hesitated for a moment before crossing the threshold, stepping into the warm, familiar space of his living room.
"Thanks for coming," Archie said quietly, his voice laced with something Betty couldn't quite place—relief, guilt, maybe both.
Betty nodded, her eyes scanning the room, taking in the signs of his life—the discarded guitar pick on the coffee table, the worn leather jacket hanging on the back of a chair. She had been here so many times before, but tonight felt different. He had called her, and she had come, just like always. But this time, something about it felt heavier.
"Archie," she said softly, turning to face him. "What are we doing?"
Archie's expression faltered, and he stepped closer, his hands reaching for hers. "Betty, don't... don't overthink this."
"I can't help it," Betty replied, her voice shaky. "This—us—it's not what it used to be."
Archie's grip on her hands tightened, his gaze pleading. "I know. But it's real, Betty. What we have... it's real."
Betty shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "It might be real, but that doesn't mean it's right."
Archie dropped her hands, stepping back as if her words had physically hurt him. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that we can't keep doing this," Betty said, her voice trembling. "I can't keep sneaking around, pretending like this is okay."
Archie stared at her, his face contorted in pain. "You don't mean that."
"I do," Betty whispered, her heart breaking even as the words left her mouth. "This isn't what I want, Archie. I don't want to be your secret."
They sat in silence for a long time, the weight of the conversation hanging between them like a storm cloud. Betty wiped at her eyes, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. She loved Archie—she had always loved Archie—but this... this wasn't love. This was something else, something that left her feeling empty and hollow every time she walked away from him.
"I don't know how to stop," Archie said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how to stop wanting to be with you."
Betty's heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, but she knew they couldn't keep going like this. She couldn't keep being the girl who came to him in the middle of the night, only to leave before the sun came up. She couldn't keep pretending like this didn't hurt.
"You don't have to stop wanting me," Betty said softly, her voice breaking. "But we can't keep doing this. It's not fair to either of us."
Archie stood up, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "So what? We just... end this? We just walk away?"
Betty looked up at him, her heart shattering at the thought of losing him. "Maybe we have to. Maybe that's the only way."
Archie's eyes filled with pain, and for a moment, Betty thought he might argue with her, that he might try to convince her to stay. But instead, he just nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
"I don't want to lose you, Betty," he said quietly. "But I don't know how to keep you without hurting both of us."
Betty stood, stepping closer to him, her voice soft but firm. "You already have me, Archie. But not like this. Not like a secret."
Archie's gaze met hers, and for the first time that night, Betty saw the truth in his eyes—the truth they had both been avoiding. This was never going to work. They had been fooling themselves, pretending like they could have something real when everything about their relationship was built on lies and stolen moments.
"I'm sorry," Archie whispered, his voice filled with regret.
Betty reached up, cupping his face in her hands. "Me too."
The next morning, Betty sat in her kitchen, staring at the cup of coffee in front of her. Her conversation with Archie played over and over in her mind, the weight of it settling heavily on her chest. She had known this was coming, had known that they couldn't keep sneaking around forever. But knowing it didn't make it any easier.
The lyrics from "illicit affairs" echoed in her mind again: "And you know damn well, for you I would ruin myself a million little times..." Betty had ruined herself for Archie over and over again, had given him pieces of herself that she could never get back. But now, sitting in the quiet of her kitchen, she realized that it was time to stop.
She loved Archie—she always would—but she couldn't keep sacrificing herself for something that wasn't real. She couldn't keep being his secret, his escape. She deserved more than that.
As the morning sun streamed through the window, Betty took a deep breath and made a decision. She wasn't going to be the girl who waited for Archie anymore. She wasn't going to be the girl who lived in the shadows, always waiting for a moment that would never come.
It was time to move on.
Weeks passed, and Betty threw herself into her work, into her friendships, into rebuilding the parts of herself that had been lost in the chaos of her relationship with Archie. She still thought about him—of course she did—but she didn't let herself dwell on the what-ifs and the could-have-beens. Instead, she focused on the future, on who she wanted to be without him.
One evening, as Betty was closing up the Blue & Gold office, her phone buzzed with a text. She glanced down at the screen and saw Archie's name. Her heart skipped a beat, but she quickly shook her head, refusing to let herself get pulled back into the same cycle.
Archie: Can we talk?
Betty stared at the message for a long moment before typing a response.
Betty: I don't think that's a good idea.
There was a long pause before Archie replied.
Archie: I miss you.
Betty closed her eyes, the words hitting her like a punch to the gut. She missed him too, more than she could put into words. But missing him wasn't enough. Wanting him wasn't enough. They had tried, and it hadn't worked. And now, it was time to let go.
With trembling fingers, Betty typed out her final response.
Betty: I miss you too. But we can't go back. Goodbye, Archie.
She hit send, her heart heavy as she turned off her phone and left the office. The sun had set, and the streets of Riverdale were quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the streetlights. Betty took a deep breath, feeling the cool evening air fill her lungs.
For the first time in a long time, she felt free. Free from the secrets, the lies, and the constant ache of wanting something she could never truly have.
And as she walked through the quiet streets of her hometown, Betty knew that she was finally ready to move on.
