Recess usually gives me ten minutes to pretend I am okay.
Today, I barely make it five steps down the hallway before the universe decides to body-slam me.
I turn a corner near the lockers, mind still foggy from the morning disaster, and freeze mid-stride.
Alice and Lena are standing almost nose-to-nose.
My first instinct: Dear God, no.
My second: Turn around and become a tree. Trees do not deal with this.
Too late. They have already seen me.
Alice's voice cuts through the hallway first, sharp, low, poisonous.
"Stop hovering around him. You left him, remember? Let him move on."
Lena fires back without hesitation, and hearing her voice aimed like a blade hurts in ways I am not prepared for.
"And you are using him, like everyone else does. You do not care about him, Alice. Stay away."
Alice scoffs.
Lena's fists clench.
My soul does a somersault and face-plants.
I force myself forward.
"Alice. Lena. Hey. What the hell is going on? Stop."
Alice does not look at me.
Lena does.
And the expression on her face
God.
It is the look someone gives right before they break a promise to themselves.
She reaches out first, fingers brushing my sleeve like she is afraid I will disappear.
"Ash…" Her voice cracks, barely. "Please. Stay away from her. She is not good for you."
Alice laughs, mean and brittle.
"Oh wow, now you care? After you ditched him like spare change?"
Lena's jaw tightens. "This is not about you."
"Yeah?" Alice steps closer. "Then why are you acting like he is still yours?"
My stomach twists.
I should stop them.
I should say something.
I should… I do not know. Grow wings and fly away.
Instead, I whisper, "Lena, look at me."
She does.
And she looks jealous, scared, desperate, like she has not slept since the day she said we were over.
I swallow hard.
"Alice, give us a second," I murmur.
"No," she snaps.
"Please," I say softly.
Alice hesitates. Glares at Lena. But loosens her grip just enough for Lena to step closer.
My heart drags itself out of its grave for the millionth time as I ask the question I swore I would never ask again.
"Lena," I say quietly, "are you doing this voluntarily? Is Samuel forcing you?"
She flinches at his name.
I notice.
She notices me noticing.
I keep going. Slowly. Carefully. Like approaching a wounded animal I love too much.
"Please just tell me," I whisper. "If someone threatened you. If he hurt you. I will fix it. You know I will. Just tell me the truth."
My voice shakes. "You know I can fight the world for you."
For a second, a whole second, I think she will tell me.
Her lips part.
Her eyes soften.
Then something shutters inside her.
Like Samuel's voice is echoing in her skull.
She steps back.
"No one forced me," she says.
Her voice is steady, but her hands tremble.
"I chose Samuel. And I need you to stop asking."
The words do not hit me instantly.
They fall slowly.
Like snow.
Like ash.
Alice reacts first, exploding like a shaken soda.
"See? She just keeps hurting you." She grabs my arm. "Ash, come on. Let's go. She does not deserve to talk to you."
Lena's eyes flick to Alice's hand on me.
Her whole body tenses.
But she does not move.
Does not speak.
Does not fight for me.
Not anymore.
My chest goes numb.
My thoughts drain out.
Maybe she really did choose Samuel.
Maybe she meant it.
Maybe I am the idiot who cannot stop hoping.
"Let's go," Alice repeats, tugging my arm.
I let her pull me down the hallway because standing there hurts too much.
I do not look back.
But I feel it.
Lena's stare burning into my spine, full of something she refuses to say out loud.
And that hurts even more.
⟡ ✧ ⟡
I have gotten ready for funerals with more enthusiasm than this party.
Josh and I move around the apartment like two ghosts trying not to bump into furniture. He stands in front of the mirror, attempting to tame his hair with gel. It is not working. His hair revolts like a rebellious teenager.
I button my shirt slowly, each click a countdown to something inevitable and stupid.
Neither of us speaks for a long time.
Eventually, Josh clears his throat. "So… we will leave early if it gets weird, okay?"
His voice is quiet.
Careful.
Like he is trying to wrap me in bubble wrap.
I give him a small nod. "Yeah. Thanks."
He shrugs it off, but his shoulders drop in that relieved, good, he is not shutting down way.
Alice is not here, thank God. I do not think I would survive her commentary on my collar.
And Lena
No. I am not thinking about Lena.
I grab my coat. Josh grabs the car keys. We head out.
⟡ ✧ ⟡
The drive is too calm.
Too peaceful.
Like the world is inhaling before something cracks.
Josh fiddles with the radio until he finds a playlist of random pop songs I absolutely did not approve. He hums off-key the entire time. Normally, I would tease him. Today, I just stare out the window.
City lights flick past like smudges of gold and blue. Somewhere between two traffic signals, a heaviness settles in my chest.
Going back there feels like willingly stepping into a house that once burned you.
But Josh is here.
And that helps.
⟡ ✧ ⟡
When we pull into the gated neighborhood, Josh whistles low.
"Damn. She upgraded."
"Yeah," I mutter. "Dramatically."
The guard at the entrance gives us a smile so fake it should win an Oscar.
Josh parks near the sidewalk. The moment I step out, the air feels different. Colder. Sharper. Pretentious. Even the grass looks expensive, probably moisturized better than me.
The house is a mansion with massive glass windows, golden lighting, and enough modern art sculptures to make me consider running.
And the crowd
God.
Men in suits worth a fortune.
Women dripping diamonds like subtlety personally offended them.
Luxury cars lined up in a row, each shinier and angrier than the last.
People laugh too loudly.
Drink too confidently.
Scan the room like they are auditioning for Rich, Rude, and Bored.
Josh leans in. "Bro. Why does everyone look like they smell faintly of generational wealth?"
I almost smile. "Because they do."
He nudges me. "We stick together, okay?"
I nod.
But as we step toward the entrance, something tightens in my chest. An old memory pulling on a nerve.
Three years.
Three years without a call or a message.
And suddenly my mother wants me here.
I force myself to breathe.
Fine.
Let us see what this circus is about.
As we cross the doorway into the mansion's warm, overly perfumed air, I cannot shake the feeling that I am stepping straight into the lion's den, uninvited, unwanted, and wildly unprepared.
And somehow, deep down, I know this night is about to get worse.