“It is,” I whispered. “You’re the only one who’s ever stayed.”
Thalia touched my arm, grounding me. “I stayed because you let me. Because somewhere under all the sarcasm and trauma responses, there’s a real person. One who deserves more than this.”
“And yet here I am. Still hoping he’ll look at me.”
“He won’t.”
“I know.”
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, furious with myself. I didn’t cry. I didn’tdothis. But loving Theo felt like carving myself open and asking him to fill the space—and he’d filled it with silence.
“If I stay, I lose everything that makes meme,” I finally said.
“Then don’t stay.”
“I owe you for rent.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’d rather you owe me a future.”
Silence settled between us. The breeze picked up, carrying that sickly-sweet scent of roses and power. Across the lawn, Theo stood with his father, posture stiff, eyes unreadable.
I didn’t let myself look for long. I couldn’t. “I’ll leave after the gala,” I said flatly. “Get the bonus. Pack my shit, then I’m gone.”
Thalia’s jaw tightened. “I want to believe you.”
“Then believe me.”
“I do,” she said, too softly. “But you don’t.”
Later that night, we sat on the apartment floor, legs tangled, drinking from a bottle of three-dollar wine that tasted like regret.
“I think he broke something in me,” I murmured.
Thalia didn’t respond right away. She just reached for my hand. Held it tightly. “You’re not broken,” she said. “You’re just looking for someone who sees you the way I do.”
I laughed, bitter and breathless. “And how’s that?”
“Like someone who still deserves to be loved.”
My chest cracked at the edges. “I’m not sure if I believe in love anymore.”
She looked at me like I was the saddest thing she’d ever seen. “Then let me believe for both of us. Just for a little while.”
I nodded, because I didn’t know what else to do. My world had narrowed to this: Thalia’s grip. A flickering hallway light. And the knowledge that in three days, everything would change.
I’d walk away. Or I wouldn’t. And either way, the damage was done.
The club was alive,it buzzed like a wasp’s nest. Gold ribbon, elegant mood lighting, clinking glasses, clipped instructions from Timothy and Colhoun were pushing me to the edge of my sanity. The kind of cold efficiency you only got when wealth was weaponized.
I moved through the gathered crowds like a ghost. Pressed shirt. Polished shoes. Thin black tie that felt like it wasstrangling me. Members of the press circled; sharks that smelt blood in the water. Something big was going to go down tonight, but none of us knew what it was.
Everything inside me felt splintered. Like if someone touched me the wrong way, I’d crack down the middle.
“Hey.” Thalia found me near the back kitchen, balancing a tray of champagne flutes. Her lips were tight, her brows drawn. “Last night, remember? After the gala. You promised.”
“I remember.”
She studied me, wary. “You don’t look like you’re planning to follow through.”
