“She’s always been that way,” Mia told Victor, as if Ava weren’t sitting right there. “Counts everything. Days until exams. Days until break. Days until the next callback I’m never going to get.”
“Mia…”
“It’s fine. I’m manifesting.” Mia waved a hand. “The point is, Ava counts. It’s how she survives things.”
“By watching them end?” Victor asked.
The question landed strange in Ava’s chest. She thought about all the countdowns she’d kept: days until graduation, days until the bar exam, days until her loans came due. She’d never thought about what it meant. That she’d spent her whole life measuring how long until things were over.
“This does.” She met his eyes, made herself hold them. “We agreed. Fifty-six days.”
“Forty-nine now,” Mia added.
“Right.” Victor sat back. The chair creaked in protest. “Forty-nine.”
No one spoke. The vanilla candle had burned down to a stub, flame guttering, shadows stretching across the walls like something listening.
“Unless,” Mia said slowly, her voice careful in a way it rarely was, “someone catches actual feelings.”
“Mia.”
“What? I’m just saying. If this fake relationship becomes real, then forty-nine days is just… a number.”
“It won’t.” Ava’s fingers tightened on her wine glass. “We have terms. Boundaries. Rules.”
“Right. Those are working great.” Mia set down her wine and leaned forward, elbows on knees, the posture she used when she was done playing. “Let me ask you something, Victor. Directly. No deflecting. No demon lawyer bullshit.”
Victor’s expression didn’t change. “Ask.”
“Do you have feelings for my best friend?”
The candle flame stretched sideways, though there was no draft. The shadows on the wall shifted.
“Yes.”
Ava’s pulse stuttered. Her hand found the pendant through her shirt, pressing it against her skin like an anchor.
“Victor…”
“Real feelings?” Mia pressed, relentless. “Not arrangement feelings. Not ‘she’s useful and interesting’ feelings. Real ones. The kind that keep you up at night. The kind that make you do stupid things.”
Victor was silent for a long moment. His hands had stilled on the armrests, fingers digging into worn fabric.
“Yes.”
“The kind that might last longer than forty-nine days?”
The question hung in the air. The candle guttered and almost went out. Victor opened his mouth. Closed it.
The silence stretched. Ava couldn’t breathe. Tingling heat spread from the pendant’s chain across her collarbones, or maybe that was her own heart pounding through skin and bone and jade.
Victor stood abruptly, nearly knocking over the armchair. It rocked on its uneven legs and settled with a reproachful creak.
“I should go.” He was already moving toward the door, the careful control cracking at the edges.
“You don’t have to…” Ava started, rising.
“I do.” He pulled on his shoes with quick, efficient movements, not bothering with the laces. “Thank you for dinner, Mia. And for protecting her. Even from me.” He straightened, hand on the doorknob. “She’s lucky to have you.”
