⸻
REGINA
His eyes are daggers.
I'm not even looking at him directly, but I can feel it—like he's trying to set fire to the air between us.
And for what?
I'm not doing anything wrong this time. I'm just having a normal conversation with some guy at my workplace.
I don't think that's a crime.
Well... unless he's jealous.
No. That's not possible. He hates my guts, so why—
Before I can decode his reaction, he walks off in a rage.
Maybe he wasn't looking at me and was angry about something else...
I say that knowing it's false because I know for a fact—he was looking at me.
"Is everything alright?" Mike asks, seeing my sudden change in mood and my confused expression.
I snap out of it, lifting my head, not realizing I'd dropped it—almost forgetting he was still standing there.
"Yeah, I'm fine, but I've got to go," I say, smiling—but it doesn't reach my eyes.
He nods. "Alright... maybe I'll see you around sometime?"
"Sure," I respond, giving him a nod before walking off.
On the walk home, I can't get my mind off Julian's reaction.
I keep replaying the situation in my head, trying to figure out what I could've done to infuriate him that much.
I come up empty and shrug. Maybe it was just another instance of him being weird. I decide to think nothing of it.
⸻
I reach home.
Home.
I don't know exactly when I started thinking of this place that way—but it makes me smile.
Even though I lived my whole life in my family's house, it never felt like home.
This... this is different. And I'm still getting used to it.
I walk into the house.
"I'm home," I call out.
No response.
I'm confused at first before remembering—Cora told me she had somewhere to be today.
I didn't ask where. She didn't seem ready to talk about it.
She's respected my privacy. I'll do the same for her, even though I'm a bit worried. I made her promise to call if she needed anything.
She's done so much for me. This is the very least I can do.
I walk upstairs, set my bag down on the table beside my bed, and crash down onto it.
I'm beyond exhausted after yet another long day of scrubbing and cleaning.
As I lie on the bed, drifting off into the paradise of sleep, my phone buzzes.
I groan, grabbing it and wondering who the hell is calling. It's not like I know anyone.
It's a message.
From Hanna.
Hanna
Hey, Miss Troll Slayer 🐲
Hanna
You ready?
Oh no. I suddenly remember the conversation I had with Hanna, Chloe, and Cleo.
We agreed to meet up later and go to the movies—some bonding time outside of work.
I groan.
Noooooo. There goes my plan for a quiet night of rest.
I only agreed because, honestly, I just wanted to make some real friends.
I think of Sarah for a moment before shaking the thought away.
Thinking about her always makes me sad, and this is not the time for that.
Realizing I left Hanna on read, I quickly reply:
Troll Slayer
Yeah, I'll see you at 6.
I drop my phone and immediately enter Phase Two of my breakdown.
What am I going to wear?!
I rummage through my trunk. Nothing works.
Everything I own screams rich girl, and that doesn't feel right for this kind of outing.
I sit on the floor, fighting the urge to scream and throw my case at the wall.
Cora walks in slowly, clearly alarmed.
"Is everything alright in here?"
I don't blame her. I must look insane—sitting on the floor, surrounded by clothes, pulling at my hair.
I sigh, pulling my hands away.
"I know what it looks like, but I promise I'm not insane."
"I need something to wear for a night out with some potential friends, and I have nothing to wear."
She nods, visibly relieved that I'm not having a full-on mental breakdown—well, at least not without a valid reason.
"I don't know what to do," I say, burying my face in my palms.
She smiles. "I think I might be able to help with that."
I look up at her. "Really?" I say, surprised but not getting my hopes up. "No offense, but you're an old lady in your seventies."
She rolls her eyes and smacks my arm, making me laugh.
"I'm not old," she says, clearly offended. "Besides, these are clothes from my glory days." She winks and heads to her room.
I follow, curious now.
Her room is nothing like I expected. It's modern and sleek, but still holds an old-timey charm.
I think that's what I love most about her—she's different.
She opens a trunk at the bottom of her closet.
It's filled with clothes—definitely old, no longer "fashionable" by today's standards.
They look like outfits from a '90s rom-com.
"Sorry, Cora, but these aren't exactly... my style," I say carefully, not wanting to hurt her feelings. She's just trying to help.
As I go to close the trunk, I spot it—a cute blue long-sleeved off-shoulder dress. I could wear it with my black heel boots.
I stop her, mesmerized.
"That one. Can I try it?"
She follows my gaze and smiles. "That was the dress I wore on my first date with my first love."
I freeze. Clearly, the dress means a lot to her.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It obviously means something. I'll find something else."
I go to stand, but she stops me.
"It's okay. I brought you here knowing that dress was in here. I want you to have it."
I shake my head. "I can't. It means too much to you."
She smiles gently. "Think of it this way: you're doing me a favor by wearing it. I'd really like to see someone put it to use after all this time."
I hesitate.
"Come on—it's just sitting here collecting dust."
I sigh, defeated, still feeling a little bad. She's done so much for me already. Now her dress too?
I need to promise myself—no more taking from her. I already feel like a freeloader.
"Fine, I'll take it," I say reluctantly but gratefully.
She beams, handing it over. "Now didn't you say you had somewhere to go?"
I jolt upright, remembering.
I rush back to my room—less than an hour to get ready.
I hear her laughing behind me as I bolt.
⸻
About 30 minutes later, I'm done.
I look in the mirror—and I have to say, I look good.
The dress hugs me perfectly, stopping mid-thigh, showing off my legs. The neckline dips just enough to fit my silver pendant necklace.
With my black boots and a shoulder bag, I'm feeling myself.
I race downstairs, shout a quick goodbye to Cora, and hail a cab to the theater.
The drive is slower than I'd like. I keep asking the driver if he can go faster. He's annoyed by the end, but I don't care—I'm finally here.
I toss him an apology and a little extra cash. I know I'm broke, but still—he earned it.
I spot the girls. I don't walk—I run.
"Hey! Sorry I'm late. Hope you weren't waiting long," I say, catching my breath.
Hanna waves it off. "No worries! We just got here."
Chloe eyes me. "You look amazing! Where'd you buy that dress?"
Before I can answer, Cleo cuts in. "Chloe! Let her catch her breath. This is no time to play fashionista."
I laugh. "Thanks, Chloe. And don't worry, Cleo—I don't mind. It's not mine, though. It belongs to a friend of mine. I had nothing to wear."
Chloe nods, no judgment. "Well, tell your friend I like her style."
I nod back.
No one even mentions my face mask. I'd been so nervous about that, but I guess they figured I had my reasons.
Hanna jumps in. "Come on, we've got to move—we're gonna miss our movie!"
We all laugh and walk into the theater together.
⸻
A few hours later, it's dark. We're walking out of the theater, laughing.
We ended up watching a horror movie—Hanna's choice, of course. It was a disaster in the best way. Cleo screamed the whole time and clung to a very annoyed Chloe.
We spent half the night teasing her.
We're just a few meters from the theater when I suddenly feel it—that weird sense that someone's watching me.
Déjà vu.
I turn.
It's Julian.
He's not looking at me, though. He's got a girl glued to his side. She's all over him.
And for some reason, it makes me feel... weird.
I try to rationalize. Maybe she's a relative or a friend. Maybe I'm reading too much into it.
But then I see it—she stands on her toes and kisses him.
On the lips.