The plates were nearly scraped clean. Forks rested idle, wine glasses half-drained, conversations drifting in relaxed loops. The room had softened now, warmed by laughter and pasta and the hum of familiarity. The overhead light pooled gently over the table, casting a golden hue across flushed cheeks and tilted smiles.
Mira leaned back in her chair with a groan, patting her stomach. "Okay. If anyone takes another bite, I swear I'm rolling them into the hallway."
Jake smiled, brushing crumbs from his fingers. "It was incredible."
"You're just saying that because you're trying to charm your way into our circle," Mira replied with mock suspicion, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Is it working?"
Mira held her stare for a moment longer, then broke into a grin. "Unfortunately, yes."
Hriva chuckled but said nothing. Her plate sat mostly empty, but she hadn't touched it in a while. She felt too full. Not from food. From something else. A tension she hadn't quite named yet.
Zara nudged Mira. "Alright, chef. Come on. Let's clean up before we all collapse."
Mira started collecting dishes. As she reached across the table, Jake moved too, casually standing and gathering the nearest glasses without needing to be asked.
"Oh, a helper?" Mira looked over her shoulder. "I didn't even have to threaten you."
Jake chuckled. "That's a new experience."
"You must be raised well. Or just afraid of me."
"Probably both."
The table rippled with laughter.
Hriva's fingers stilled on the edge of her wine glass. She felt it then, small and precise. A spark. It wasn't big enough to call fire, not yet. But it was sharp enough to sting.
Jake balanced a stack of plates in one hand while Mira grabbed the serving tray. As they walked into the kitchen together, Mira flicked her hair back off her shoulder and said something low. Jake replied with a laugh. Hriva couldn't hear the words, only the rhythm. Mira's teasing was light, but familiar. Too familiar.
She turned slightly in her chair, pretending to sip her drink as her eyes followed them through the open archway. Mira placed the tray down, turned toward him with an exaggerated flourish, then bumped him lightly with her hip. Jake grinned, shook his head, and stepped aside, drying a glass as Mira reached for another.
There was nothing wrong happening. No lines being crossed.
But still.
Still.
Hriva's chest tensed as a wave of heat crawled up her neck. The kind of heat that had nothing to do with the wine.
"Earth to Hriva," Niyah said beside her, leaning in close. "You alright? You've been zoning."
"I'm fine," she answered quickly. Too quickly.
Zara leaned back in her chair, arms crossed and eyes playful. "Hmm. Someone's jealous."
Hriva's head snapped toward her. "What?"
Zara smirked. "I said someone's jealous."
"I'm not...." Hriva blinked, catching herself. "It's nothing."
"Please," Niyah chimed in. "If Mira flirted with my man like that, I'd already be pulling her ponytail."
"It's just Mira," Hriva muttered. "She's like that with everyone."
"That's the problem," Zara said, voice low, leaning closer. "She's like that with everyone. And Jake's not everyone."
Hriva looked down at her hands, fingers now tightening around her napkin. She didn't want to admit it. Didn't want to say the word out loud. But jealousy was like smoke in her lungs. Even if she didn't scream, it still filled her.
She looked up again, just in time to see Mira laughing, really laughing with her head thrown back as she stood near the sink, Jake still drying plates beside her. Their shoulders moved in sync. The kind of easy rhythm that took years to build. Or sometimes, just one dinner.
Hriva's jaw clenched.
She took a longer sip of wine than she meant to.
The girls watched her in silence for a beat, then Zara gave her a tiny, knowing smile and said nothing more.
Jake and Mira returned a few minutes later, Jake carrying the empty water pitcher and Mira humming quietly, looking pleased with herself.
"Dishwashing passed with honors," Mira said. "He even stacked the plates right. That's rare."
Jake settled back into his seat beside Hriva, his hand brushing against hers.
But Hriva didn't look at him right away.
She was too focused on Mira. On the tiny detail of flour still smudged near her chin. On the shimmer of gloss catching the light on her lips. On how many times they'd been in this apartment before. Just the girls. Just Mira and her kitchen and that same old towel draped over her shoulder.
Jake leaned toward Hriva slightly. "You okay?" he whispered.
She nodded.
A lie.
And Mira smiled without noticing.