Bri stays, eyes soft now. “Have you eaten?”
I shake my head.
“I’ll make you something. Eat first. Then when you’re ready, we’ll talk. Or we won’t. Whatever you need.”
I nod and curl back into the couch, the TV showing another rerun ofLove Islandas if the soundtrack of my life could be that simple.
Don’t fall in love, I think. It only ends in hurt.
The couch is warm from my body. My skin smells faintly of last night. Outside, someone paces. Inside, I try to breathe.
We’ve migrated to the kitchen table, wine poured, charcuterie board assembled, crisis-friendship formation fully activated. The kind of emergency picnic only women in emotional triage can assemble: cheese, salami, crackers, grapes, and the unspoken agreement that no one is judging me for still being in pajamas.
Anna sips her wine, eyes narrowed.
“So… do you think he knew it was you the entire time?”
I pluck a piece of salami, roll it, and pop it in my mouth.
He had to have known. I gave him so many clues. Work trips, late nights, the same travel days, how could he not put it together?
I wave a hand dismissively, still chewing. “When we went to Houston and I said I’d just been with my parents? When I said I was running on the beach, and then literally ran into him? He knows I travel constantly. He knows I work insane hours. What are the odds he knew we kept ‘coincidentally’ traveling on the exact same days and he didn’t connect the dots?”
“Okay, that makes sense.” Bri nods. “But… did he ever giveyouclues? Anything you overlooked?”
I shake my head before she even finishes. I’ve been replaying it all day; the answer is tattooed on my brain.
“No. Nothing. Not even crumbs. He was just… him. Someone who seemed interested in me, for me. Someone I trusted. He’d say he was busy, but that could’ve meant finance or landscaping or running a secret puppy-rescue ring. Busy is busy. He never hinted who he was.”
Anna lifts her hands like she’s diffusing a bomb. “Okay, devil’s advocate… what if he genuinely didn’t know how to bring it up? You both went on Veil for anonymity. Then suddenly you’re vibing on the appandin real life, maybe he panicked.”
I stare at her hard.
“You think he panicked?” My voice cracks. “I trusted him. I opened myself up and he let me… I told him I was falling for someone else, and the whole time Rogue the secret-internet-ghost just… listened. Encouraged me. Told me to follow my heart.”
Bri winces. “So it kind of feels like he emotionally groomed you into liking him.”
“Exactly!” I slam my palm on the table “How do I know any of it was real? What if he just said what he knew would make me fall for him?”
Anna’s face softens, and she gives a tiny shrug.
“Or, don’t stab me, it’s romantic?”
I stare at her like she just confessed to loving pineapple on pizza.
She lifts her palms, surrendering. “I’m just saying, you fell for Rogue the storm-cloud football god,andRogue the thoughtful, vulnerable, I-write-like-pain-and-starlight Veil guy. Two halves of the same person.”
A tear slips down my cheek, and I swipe it away with my sleeve.
“What are the odds he really meant all of it?” I whisper. “That he didn’t tell me because he wanted me to like him for who he actually is? In a perfect world… it was fate. Kismet. Whatever. We found each other twice.”
I breathe in. Slow. Shaky.
“But this isn’t a perfect world. He didn’t tell me, and I don’t know if I can trust him again.”
“Has he tried contacting you?” Anna asks.
A humorless laugh escapes me. “He tried calling five seconds after I left. He was naked in the kitchen making scrambled eggs when I walked out in his shirt, muttering I didn’t feel well. Then? Calls. Texts. And of course, my messages on Veil. He wants to ‘talk.’ To ‘explain.’ To give me his why and his excuses and his whatever the hell.”
