April closed her eyes, leaning against the stall door. Her mother still thought she was dating Chad. April hadn't found the emotional bandwidth to update her on the fact that Chad was a cheating clown and her life had become a reality show she hadn't auditioned for and also she was engaged now. For real? Maybe? It was complicated.
The stall felt too small. Too familiar. It evensmelledof lemon.
Her phone buzzed. Another text. Another notification.
Then she heard soft crying from the stall two doors down. Quiet, the kind of crying someone does when they're trying very hard not to be heard.
April stared at the stall door in front of her.
"Do you want company or privacy?" she asked, her voice carrying over the partition. "I'm in here having my own meltdown. We could coordinate."
Silence.
Then a wet laugh. "Company, I think?"
April unlocked her stall, stepped out. Texted Laura quickly.
April:BRB someone is crying in the bathroom.
Her phone buzzed immediately.
Laura:…
Laura:Are YOU crying in the bathroom.
Laura:Because that’s on brand tonight.
April didn't answer. She knocked gently on the occupied stall. “I’m April. I have concealer and zero judgment.”
The lock clicked. The door opened. The woman was maybe April's age, dark hair falling out of what had probably been an elegant updo, mascara tracked down her cheeks in uneven lines. Her dress had a broken strap hanging loose at her shoulder.
"Hi," the woman said, then immediately started crying harder. "Sorry. God. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize." April pulled tissues from her clutch, handed them over. "What happened?"
"My—" The woman gestured vaguely at her shoulder. "My date was... he kept pulling me around the club. And then he got mad when I said I wanted to leave and he—" She touched the broken strap. "It just... it snapped."
April's jaw tightened. She dug through her clutch, found the safety pin she kept there. "Here. Let me help."
She worked quickly, pinning the strap back into place with the efficiency of someone who'd spent years solving small emergencies. "There. It'll hold."
"Thank you." The woman wiped at her face with the tissues, smearing mascara further. "God, I'm a mess."
"You're allowed to be a mess." April handed her another tissue. "Also, that guy sounds like an asshole."
The woman laughed, still wet, but more genuine this time. "He really is."
"So don't go back to him." April leaned against the sink, arms crossed. "Don't make yourself smaller so he can feel bigger."
The woman's eyes dropped to April's hand. To the ring catching the purple LED light like a spotlight. Her expression turned bitter. "That's easy for you to say."
April looked down at the ring. Twisted it slightly on her finger. Let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
"This?" She held up her hand. "This is a prank. Or it started as one. This morning I walked in on my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—with someone else. On his desk. On our anniversary."
"He told me it was an April Fools' joke. Which is when I realized I'd spent three years making myself smaller so he could be whatever he wanted."
The woman stared at her.
