Lila’s first. Of course.
The water pressure here is VIOLENT. Pretty sure I dislocated a boob.
Also, the dorm hairdryer tried to eat my face.
Also also—WHEN CAN I SEE YOU? I’M DROWNING IN PRIVATE SCHOOL HELL.
I press the phone against my chest and close my eyes for a beat. She’s pissed, uncomfortable, dramatic as hell—but she still wants to see me.
A small lump lodges in my throat.
I haven’t told her yet.
She doesn’t know about the marriage. Doesn’t know I’ve tied my life—literally and legally—to a man she’s never even met.
I start typing, then stop. Then delete the whole thing.
I need to talk to Konstantin.
About weekends. About our house. About whether the deal includes letting me see my family—you know, the people I did all this for.
Because if this “marriage” doesn’t allow me to hug my sister every Sunday and let Julian sneak into the kitchen to raid the fridge at midnight like he always does… then what the hell was the point?
Not now.
I’ll text Lila back later—when I’ve figured out how to lie without making it worse. Or maybe when I’m brave enough to tell her the truth. Whichever version of me shows up first.
I let the phone rest on my stomach, eyes flicking up to the ceiling. Some gold chandelier thing glints overhead—excess in crystal form. It doesn’t belong to me. None of this does.
But then—another buzz. A different kind of notification. No whining. No emojis in all caps. Just a picture.
Julian.
It’s the first thing all morning that doesn’t feel confusing.
I tap out a reply.
Me: Is that a telescope behind you? So you’ve officially gone full nerd? Also—tell me you’re not charming your way into free snacks from the TA again. P.S. Proud of you. Even if you look like you’re about to launch a startup from row three.
I hesitate before hitting send. Then I add one more line.
Me: I miss you.
Because I do. And I need him to know that part’s still true.
Then Elena’s name lights up my screen.
Because if anyone is going to ruin my emotionally vulnerable moment with chaos and inappropriate emojis, it’s her.
Cultural update: vending machine. Used socks. Anime branding. Japan is deeply confusing and mildly arousing. [Photo attached: a tube of lip gloss shaped like a tiny penis.] Got you one. For emergencies.
I laugh. Loud. Which feels… wrong. I should not be laughing while naked in the aftermath of whatever last night was. But I am.
And for once, I don’t have to pretend I’m okay. I just am. Which might be the most terrifying part of all.
A second later, another text from Elena pops up.
BTW don’t think you’re escaping without DETAILS. I want to know everything. Positions. Sounds. How many times. Did he growl? Did you black out? Was there furniture involved??
