Chapter Three

I would’ve cancelled. God knows I wanted to.

But the moment I saw the date, I knew I couldn’t.

Today was the beginning of everything—the day my life began to unravel thread by thread, all while I smiled and played dress-up with the person holding the scissors.

The mall is just as I remember—too bright, too loud, too full of people pretending their lives are whole. The polished floors gleam under fluorescent lights, reflecting nothing but illusions and lies.

My steps slow the moment I pass through the glass doors. The cool, manufactured air rushes over me, stealing my breath like a slap to the face. I blink, trying to focus on the present, but it’s no use.

This is where it all started.

My stomach knots. I swallow it down.

I remember the way I’d felt—hopeful, excited, stupid. I’d gotten her text—Let’s shop, babe! Girls’ day! I miss you—and my heart had swelled like an idiot’s.

I showed up thinking it would be fun.

We’d laughed through the aisles like nothing in the world could touch us. Tried on overpriced sunglasses, posed with ridiculous hats, whispered about cute guys and cursed the ones we hated. Everything felt light. Easy. Safe.

Then she saw it—the jewelry set.

Elegant, expensive. A necklace that caught the light like starlight, and earrings that practically whispered wealth. The kind of set that didn’t belong in our hands. I told her that with a laugh, but she just smiled.

I’d only walked away for a moment—just a few steps toward a pair of boots I couldn’t afford. Just enough time for my world to tilt..

Security had stopped us at the exit. I’d thought it was a mistake—some silly mix-up. But then they opened my bag. And there it was. That same jewellery set staring up like an accusation.

I’d stammered. Explained. Begged them to check the cameras.

But Lisa… Lisa had stood there, all wide eyes and trembling lips.

“Anna, I—I can’t believe this. Did you really—?”

She never said she did it.

She never said she didn’t.

She didn’t have to.

The staff believed her. The other shoppers stared. One of them had their phone out, filming. I didn’t know it at the time. I didn’t know the video would go viral. That it would follow me like a scar no one could see but everyone could smell.

My coursemates, who already hated me for reasons I still don’t understand, had a field day. They finally had proof that I wasn’t who I pretended to be. Even the lecturers who used to praise me for my brilliance looked at me differently after that—one by one, they all stopped calling my name in class. They stopped answering my emails.

I became a ghost in my own life.

I tried applying for jobs after graduation, but somehow—somehow, they always found the video. “Sorry, we’ve decided to go in a different direction.” “We don’t think you’re the right fit.”

Eventually, I stopped trying.

Eventually, I gave in.

I worked for Lisa.

I worked for the person who had ruined me, every single day, with a smile on her lips and a dagger behind her back. And Josh—God, Josh—he was always right there beside her, the man who once held my heart, now pretending he didn’t know who I used to be.

I swallow hard and wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the mall.

The memory clings to me like smoke, like shame, like blood that won’t wash off.

And now I’m back here again.

Today is that day.

I take a breath.

Then another.

I try to steady myself, clenching my fists until my nails dig crescents into my palms. I remind myself that I know what’s coming—that I’m not that naïve, hopeful girl anymore. I’ve lived this life before. I’ve suffered at her hands.

I am not her victim this time.

But the moment I see Lisa…

I freeze.

She’s standing near the central fountain, waving like nothing in the world is wrong, like she didn’t carry the weight of every betrayal I’ve ever felt. She looks almost exactly the same—long curls bouncing over her shoulders, eyes glittering with secrets, lips curved into that same smile that used to feel like home.

Only now, it feels like poison.

I can’t breathe.

I thought I was ready. I thought I’d prepared myself for this moment. But seeing her again, really seeing her—the girl who’d ruined my life with a lie, the woman who will one day burn my entire world to the ground and pull the trigger herself—it knocks the air out of me.

A scream curls in my throat, but it never leaves my mouth.

Instead, something else rises.

Anger.

White-hot, bone-deep, righteous anger.

It shoots through me like fire, momentarily drowning the fear, the grief, the heartbreak that always seems to follow her. My spine straightens. My heartbeat slows.

I won't let her break me. Not again.

Not this time.

I smooth my expression, brush my hair back, and paste on a smile so sweet it could rot teeth.

“Lisa,” I call out, my voice light, almost musical.

She turns, and for a second, I hate that I still remember what her hugs felt like. I hate that I ever loved her. But I walk toward her, slow and casual, like I haven’t been reliving my own personal hell just moments ago.

“Hey, babe,” I say, like nothing’s wrong.

Lisa loops her arm through mine like she’s done a hundred times before, her voice bright and cheerful as she launches into a story about one of her professors and how “completely obsessed with her” he is.

I nod when I should, hum every now and then to make it seem like I’m listening, but every word she says bounces off the armor I’ve built around myself. My mind is elsewhere—caught between now and the past. Between pretending, and remembering.

She’s so animated. So effortlessly carefree. Laughing like she hasn’t destroyed anyone, like there’s no blood on her hands—on her smile.

It’s sickening.

I feel like I’m walking beside a ghost. Or maybe I’m the ghost.

And still, I follow.

Because I have to.

We wander through a few shops, Lisa trying on sunglasses and holding bags against her body to see how they match her outfit. I watch her with that same painted smile, my jaw aching from the effort of keeping it there.

Then she says it. Casually.

“Let’s stop by that new boutique on the corner—you remember it, right? The one with the velvet walls and insane price tags?”

I feel my stomach twist.

I remember again.

God, do I remember.

The place that led to the video. The rumours. The isolation.

The shame.

And now, here she is again, smiling like nothing happened. Like history isn’t about to repeat itself.

“Sure,” I say quietly, forcing the words out past the tightness in my chest. “Let’s go.”

The boutique is just as I remember it—clean, chic, and steeped in that kind of hush that makes you aware of your every move. The sales attendants watch discreetly from their corners, perfectly still, perfectly polite.

We walk together, weaving past displays of limited-edition shoes and silk dresses, until Lisa’s steps slow. I follow her gaze.

It’s the same jewelry set.

A delicate necklace with a single, glimmering sapphire pendant, and matching earrings that sparkled beneath the overhead lights. It was beautiful then. It's beautiful now.

I let the admiration slip from my lips, just as I did last time.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmur, almost to myself.

Lisa sighs, wistful. “It is, isn’t it? I wish we could afford it.”

She runs her fingers across the glass, eyes soft with longing. For a second, I almost believe her.

Then she straightens up with a small, dismissive shrug. “Let’s just look around a bit more before we go.”

I nod and turn around, pretending to admire a red leather handbag on the other side of the room. Its surface gleams under the lights. I reach out and brush my fingers across it, as if seriously considering it.

And then—out of the corner of my eye—I see her.

Just as before.

Her hand is quick, practiced. She plucks the jewelry set from its stand and slips it into my bag with a subtle flick of her wrist, all while keeping her gaze fixed ahead, pretending she’s just browsing.

I feel it again—that twist in my chest.

A wave of sadness crashes into me, dragging the air from my lungs. How could I have ever called her my best friend? How many signs had I missed? How many moments like this had I dismissed with the benefit of the doubt?

If I’d seen through her sooner… maybe my family would still be alive. Maybe my father wouldn’t have lost everything. Maybe—

No.

I shut that thought down.

I’ve been given a second chance. A chance to see clearly. A chance to fight back.

I wait until Lisa is turned away, chatting with a store clerk about something she’ll never buy. Then I reach down, lift my bag quietly, and open it.

There it is—the same velvet box, nestled inside like a curse.

I take it in my hand, my fingers trembling for only a second, I reach to return it, but I was struck with a thought.

Then I smile.

If she wanted to set me up again, let her taste her own poison.

With all the care she used moments ago, I walk to where her bag sits propped on a display bench, half-zipped. Without hesitation, I slip the box inside and let my smile curl into something wicked and quiet.

This time it’s going to be fun.