"That's your fiancée?" she demanded. "That's the man you're planning to marry?"
Even Amara looked stunned.
Neither woman knew what to say.
Before either of them could respond, the call abruptly disconnected.
Vincent had hung up.
Just like that.
Amara slowly lowered the phone.
When she looked back at Juliet, her chest tightened painfully.
Juliet was sitting quietly at the bottom of the stairs, blood staining one side of her face while her hands rested limply in her lap.
"What the hell is wrong with him?" Amara exploded, fury flashing across her face. "Forget being your fiancée. He doesn't even act like a friend."
Juliet remained silent.
Her eyes stayed fixed on the pavement.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Juliet finally laughed.
It was soft.
Broken.
"You know..." she began quietly, her voice sounding strangely distant. "We've been friends for so many years."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"We fought all the time. We annoyed each other constantly. We said stupid things to each other."
The smile disappeared.
"But no matter what happened..." Her fingers slowly curled against her bloodstained dress. "I never spoke badly about him behind his back."
She lowered her gaze.
"And if I ever heard that he was hurt..." Her voice faltered for the first time. "I would never leave him alone."
Amara felt her anger vanish instantly.
Because when Juliet finally lifted her head, her eyes looked empty.
Completely empty.
As though something precious inside her had finally shattered beyond repair.
"I don't think Vincent is the person I thought he was."
The words were barely above a whisper.
And in that moment, Amara realized that whatever had happened inside that club had destroyed something inside Juliet.
