I huff a laugh, trying to deflect. “That’s dramatic.”
“No,” she snaps. “That’s accurate.”
I roll my eyes. “Tia—”
She cuts me off. “You are drop-dead gorgeous, intelligent, creative, kind, and emotionally aware. Anyone with eyes and a functioning heart would fall for you.”
I stare at her.
“You don’t get to be shocked that someone loves you,” she continues, voice fierce, “when you give people so much of yourself.”
I swallow.
She exhales, calming herself. “Sorry. I just—ugh. You drive me insane sometimes.”
I laugh weakly. “You sound like him.”
She freezes. “Wait. What?”
“Dhruv,” I say. “You react the same way he does when I try to say something bad about myself.”
Her lips curl slowly. “Oh. I like him already.”
I snort. “You haven’t even met him.”
“Don’t need to,” she says smugly. “Anyone who shuts down your self-hate immediately is on my good list.”
I hesitate, then sigh. “I think I need to start therapy again.”
Her brows knit together. “What happened?”
I tell her about Maya.
About the comments. The subtle digs. The way words burrowed into my head even when I knew better. How stupid I felt for letting them affect me so much.
Tia’s face hardens with every sentence.
“I was so dumb,” I finish quietly.
She shakes her head. “No. You were human.”
I shrug. “It’s all good. I haven’t seen her around in a while.”
Her eyes narrow. “That’s interesting.”
I wave it off. “Probably nothing.”
She doesn’t look convinced.
But before she can say more, footsteps echo in the hallway.
My heart jumps.
I glance up instinctively—too quickly, too obviously.
Tia notices immediately.
She smirks. “Oh, you’re down bad.”
