Alice's POV
"Mom, I'm home!" I called out the moment I stepped inside.
Then I noticed Bryle sitting on the sofa—right beside Camille. They looked comfortable together, far too close for two people who barely knew each other. Honestly, I told myself I didn't mind. Maybe it was a good thing; at least they were getting along.
Besides, Bryle is my best friend. If he ends up liking Camille, who am I to stop him? That's what friends do—we support them, even if we aren't fond of their choice in a partner.
"Alice, those bags look heavy. Let me take them to Tita for you," Bryle offered, already standing up.
"No need, I've got it," I said quickly.
He stopped mid-step, so I walked straight to the kitchen where Mom was busy. I helped her cook and decorate the place for Camille's nineteenth birthday. Everything about this party felt too grand. The food, the setup, even the flowers—it all had to be perfect. Her dad is wealthy, so money clearly wasn't an issue, but they could have hired a caterer instead of making Mom and me do everything.
"Hey, Alice," someone tapped my shoulder. It was Camille. "Can I get Bryle's number? I know you have it."
"Sure."
I took out my phone and showed her the contact info rather than arguing, even though Bryle was sitting right next to her and she could have asked him directly. I just shrugged and went back to work.
____
Hours passed, and the guests began to arrive. I went upstairs to change; I didn't want to look like a plain extra next to all these "aesthetic" guests. But before I could reach my room—
"Alice! Get down here!" Camille's voice echoed from below.
I sighed and went back down. When I reached her, she gave me a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"If it's okay with you, could you please assist my friends first? They're important guests, and I don't want anything to go wrong. Please, I really need your help, Alice."
"Yeah, okay," I said, forcing a smile.
She immediately turned back to her group, laughing as if I weren't there.
"Is that your maid?" one of her friends whispered, loud enough for me to hear.
"She looks so pitiful. It's like she doesn't even know how to fix herself up."
"Yeah, she looks like she's from the province. Look at her clothes—so provincial."
I froze. Every word burned. Was she seriously letting them talk about me like that? I bit my tongue, not wanting to make a scene on her birthday. I picked up a tray of champagne glasses and walked toward them.
"I smell something fishy. Yuck!" one girl said dramatically, covering her nose.
"Ugh, gross! Is that you, girl?"
"Stay away! You smell so... fishy. I can't even!"
My heart pounded, but I forced a small smile. I even caught a scent of my own shirt—I smelled fine. I'd bathed before helping out.
"Do you know that the nose is very close to the mouth?" I said calmly. "Maybe it's your own breath you're smelling, not me."
Silence. Their faces dropped for a moment before one of them stood up, eyes flashing with anger. "What did you just say? How dare you!"
I placed the tray on the table and walked away, heading straight upstairs.
The Breaking Point
My chest was tight, my hands trembling from a mix of anger and humiliation. You've gone too far, Camille. What did I ever do to you?
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I looked small. Defeated. Tears started to fall, and I hated that she had the power to make me cry like this. She wasn't just embarrassing me; she was chipping away at my soul.
"Alice, can I come in?" I heard Bryle's voice outside.
I didn't answer. I just sat there in silence, wiping my eyes. Then, I heard Camille join him.
"Hey, Bryle, what are you doing? Looking for Alice?"
"Yeah," he replied. "She's been avoiding me all evening."
"Don't mind her," Camille said sweetly. "She's probably resting. She organized everything tonight—she's exhausted. Haha."
"I know... but I still want to talk to her," Bryle said.
"You can talk to her later, okay? For now, come back and join us."
After that, silence. I assumed they went back down. It hurt that he believed her so easily—that he didn't even check the door himself. But maybe that's just how it is. Maybe I've grown too used to his concern.
I changed my clothes and slipped out of the house quietly. No one noticed. I couldn't stay there and let them humiliate me again.
I ended up at the old basketball court. It was quiet, save for the wind brushing against the fence. It was the perfect place to disappear. I sat on a bench, hugging my knees.
"If Bryle were here," I whispered to the dark, "we'd probably just be playing basketball and laughing like we used to."
But not anymore. Not with Camille around.