“What the fuck,” I breathe, snatching the paper out of his hands.
There’s another shot blurry, her leaning in to kiss my cheek. Cropped just enough to make it look like a kiss. Rithy’s grinning like a cat with a mouse in its mouth.
“Congratulations, lover boy. You’ve got a‘mystery woman.'”
“She’s not a mystery!” I snap. “It wasone coffee.That’s it. She kissed me on the goddamn cheek, not my mouth!”
Ronan just crosses his arms tighter. “Then why’s it splashed over half the internet, eh? French rags are running it like it’s gospel. It’s already trending.Some of the fans remember her from the old days, when she used to come to shows. It’s not hard to verify.”
“JesusfuckingChrist.” I drag my hands down my face. “We went out theback door. I didn’t even tell anyone where we were going.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Kiri says, still scrolling. “Someone saw you. Maybe staff. Maybe a fan waiting for you to show. They’ll piece the name together soon enough.”
I sink forward, elbows on my knees. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
The three of them exchange a look, a mix of pity andwe told you so.
Ronan sighs. “What was she even here for, Rafe?”
I hesitate. Then, quietly: “Hermarriageis over. She… wanted to see if something was still there. There isn’t, I told her that. I told her I love Kasia.”
Kiri groans. “That’s exactly the kind of tragic romance headline they dream of. Give it two hours; the vultures’ll have poetry written about it when they track down her name.”
I grip the paper until it crumples. The guilt in my stomach twists hard.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, fumbling for my phone. “Kasia.”
Rithy’s head snaps up. “What about her?”
“I didn’t call her last night. I fell asleep before—”
“Beforewhat,Rafe?” he cuts in, eyes wide.
“Before I could tell her I saw Emily.”
That’s when it hits them all at once, three sets of eyes, round and silent like owls perched on the same damn branch. Even Rithy, usually delighted by my unfortunate bouts of chaos, loses the smirk.
“Rafe,” he says carefully, like he's trying to diffuse a bomb, “maybe let me look at your phone first, okay?”
The silence that follows is worse than the headlines. It’s the sound of inevitability. Rithy doesn’t wait for me to answer. He just reaches for the phone and I hand it over, grateful and nauseous at once. His eyes move fast, thumb flicking up the screen. The room’s still except for the buzz of the minibar and Ronan pacing behind him. Kiri’s standing with his arms crossed, chewing at his thumbnail like he’s watching a car crash he can’t look away from.
Rithy exhales, low. “Okay. First text, three hours ago.” His voice shifts into something calmer. “‘Hope the show was smooth. Tell me when you’re up. Miss you already.’”
He glances at me. “Still soft. You’re good so far.”
He scrolls again. “ ‘You must be exhausted. Sleep in. I’ll call after clinic.’ ”
Another pause. “And then… yeah, here’s the turn.” He taps the screen once. “‘Did you get my calls? I just want to make sure you’re okay. There’s a lot of noise online. I don’t care what they say, but please just tell me it’s not true.’”
The words hit like cold water. I can feel the blood draining from my face.
“Shit,” Ronan mutters.
Rithy scrolls again, slower this time. “‘I know we promised to always tell each other things first. Please, Rafe. Just say something.’” His voice softens; no teasing left in it. He stops reading aloud and looks up.
“That was forty minutes ago.”
I drag a hand through my hair, still half asleep, but primarily in hell. “So she’s seen it.”
