Chapter 1

EMILY.

Daya flopped down beside me in the library, a dramatic sigh escaping her lips. "Oh my God, Emily, yesterday was a disaster."

I raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"

“The guy was a total dud. The sex was bad, I had to fake it, and he didn’t even last long. And now he won’t stop texting me.”

I giggled, trying to stifle it. “Oof. That’s rough.”

“Don’t laugh, I’m seriously traumatized,” she said, crossing her arms with a pout.

“At least it makes a good story.”

“Yeah, yeah. So, what about you? Did you finally let your wild side out or are you still living the grandma life?”

I hesitated, then smirked. “Maybe I did something. Maybe I didn’t.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, don’t play coy with me. Who? When? Where?” she paused “ okay I know when but Give me something!”

I shrugged, trying to sound casual. “It was good. Really good.”

She groaned and flopped dramatically again. “Ugh, I wish I’d gone home with your mystery man.”

“Alright, enough. Let’s get back to work,” I said, pulling out my laptop.

“Oh, come on,” she whined. “Exams aren’t even close. You should be out there enjoying our last year of college. You’re already a brainiac—and a damn good hacker. What are you even studying for?”

“Because I want to stay that way,” I said, booting up my computer. We were both studying Computer Science at NYU.

Daya had been my ride-or-die since freshman year. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend. I just wished we’d ended up as roommates. Not that it mattered anymore—graduation was right around the corner.

Even though I wasn't really in the mood to study, pretending to be busy was easier than dealing with Daya's interrogation about the man from last night.

“Okay, okay. But seriously—do I know the guy?”

My heart skipped. “Nope. You don’t,” I lied smoothly.

“Hmm… that’s suspicious.” She narrowed her eyes. “Did you at least exchange numbers?”

“Of course not. It was a one-time thing.”

She leaned closer, grinning. “I know it was that dark looking mysterious guy from the VVIP section.”

I shut my eyes. Shit.

“Oh my God it was him!” she squealed.

“Can we not? Please?”

“Girl, you had sex with that man?! I knew he was into you. He looked so... intense. Mysterious. Dominant.”

“Yes, I had sex with him. It’s not a big deal,” I said, trying to sound indifferent.

“Hope you used the condoms I gave ya," Daya said, nudging me with a teasing grin.

I froze. "Shit."

Her eyes widened. "No way. You didn’t?"

"I totally forgot. Oh my God, what if he has something? STDs… or worse, HIV—"

Daya burst out laughing, nearly falling off her chair. "Girl, please! Who even thinks like that anymore?"

I stared at her, unamused. "Uh, people who like being alive?"

She waved me off, still giggling. "Relax. He looked too fine to be diseased. And besides—he’s rich. I doubt he has anything on him."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so now rich people are immune from STIs, huh?"

She smirked. "Maybe it’s one of their secret perks. Along with yachts and private jets."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a small container.

“Here. It’s an emergency contraceptive. I keep a few on mejust in case. Take this to the pharmacy and get the proper dosage, or ask them for a fresh one if you’re unsure.”

I nodded, taking it from her. “Thanks, Daya.”

“No problem. Just don’t wait too long, okay?”

I packed up my stuff and slung my bag over my shoulder. “See you Monday.”

“Text me when you're done,” she called after me.

I gave her a quick wave as I walked off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"This is going to be a disaster," Gabby, my roommate, whined over the phone.

"I can't just do something small—it’s graduation. It has to be bigggg," she stressed dramatically.

Gabby had already started planning her graduation party like it was a royal wedding. Must be nice being born rich. Unlike the rest of us who’d have to hustle for jobs right after college, she had her future set—her dad owned some massive company and, surprise surprise, she'd already done her internship there. The position’s basically gift-wrapped for her.

Meanwhile, Daya and I had to actually hit the pavement, handing out resumes to every company that would take a second look at us.

sometimes I feel like life isn't fair.

But I like Gabby, she's really sweet, but she whined over the tiniest things, which could get real annoying, real fast.

She was still chattering away on the phone while I scrolled through TikTok.

"Hey Emily, what’s this?" she suddenly asked, holding up the empty container

Daya gave me.

I snapped out of my scroll hole and saw her eyeing it with curiosity. She was off the phone now.

I’d already bought my own from the pharmacy and taken it, but I’d totally forgotten to toss the original sample Daya gave me.

"It’s mine," I said, getting up to take it from her.

"I guess someone's in action ." she asked, raising an eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes. "I don’t know.," I said, flopping back onto my bed.

"So you’re a liar now," she said with a smirk.

I squinted at her. "Why are you smiling?"

She grinned wider. "Because I kissed Mark last night."

I shot up a bit. "Shut up! That’s awesome!"

Gabby had been obsessing over Mark since last year. I always thought she’d reel him in way sooner. I mean, she’s rich, she’s hot, and her blonde hair isn’t from a bottle like Daya’s—it's the real deal. Guys basically line up to date her.

"Eh, not that awesome," she shrugged. "The kiss was wack. But at least now I know I’m over him."

I laughed. That was peak Gabby.

She was about to say something else when my phone rang.

"One sec," I told her and picked it up.

"Hey Mom, how’re you doing?"

"I’m good, honey. How about you?"

"I’m fine."

"I just called to let you know Racheal’s coming back from the UK."

"What? That’s great news! When?" I forced myself to sound excited.

Racheal’s my sisterthe second child. Our parents had three kids, and I’m the third.

Racheal got arrested in the UK—something about money laundering. That's what she said anyway. None of us really know what happened. My parents had sent her there to get her master’s degree, trying to give her a fresh start. But after a few months, she ghosted us. No calls, no texts—nothing for two years.

They tried everything—contacted her school, reached out to people they knew over there—but nothing came up. We weren’t even surprised, honestly.

Racheal’s always been... Racheal. Rebellious, wild, constantly chasing whatever chaos she could stir up. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she probably got mixed up with the wrong crowd.

Then out of nowhere, she calls. From prison.

And the craziest part? She sounded happy. Like she was calling from a spa or something. She’s been locked up for 18 months now, and somehow it hasn’t humbled her one bit.

"Next week," Mom said over the phone. "Your dad's picking her up from the airport, and we’re planning a family dinner to celebrate."

I sighed, my stomach knotting. Celebrate what exactly? Her release from a sentence she brought on herself?

"I don’t know if a celebration is... necessary," I said carefully, side-eyeing Gabby across the room so she wouldn’t pick up on the conversation.

"I mean... she disappeared for two years, and now she’s just back like nothing happened?"

Mom sighed. "I don’t know, Em. I’m just glad she’s out of prison."

Her voice cracked, and I hated how much that pulled at me. No matter how messed up things got, Mom always tried to hold the family together like tape on a cracked vase.

"How’s Lisa doing?" I asked, switching the topic. Lisa’s the eldest. So yeah three girls, no brothers. Just us.

"She’s fine."

"Has she decided to go find a job?" I said, not even trying to sugarcoat it.

Lisa’s been living with our parents for two years now, doing absolutely nothing to help. I get that losing a child is hard. Truly. But she’s 29. At some point, you’ve got to try and live again, if not for yourself, then for the people supporting you.

"Em, she hasn’t gotten over losing her baby," Mom said, sounding tired.

Lisa’s been living with my parents for years now, basically doing nothing. She dropped out in her third year of college to move in with Roman, her boyfriend at the time. My parents were still sending her money, completely unaware she wasn’t even attending classes. Then one day, she calls and casually mentions she got married.

Yup. Married. Court wedding. No heads-up, no family present—not even a courtesy invite.

And the white wedding? Yeah, she planned that herself. Didn’t invite a single one of us. Not even Mom and Dad. I’ll never forget how heartbroken they were —trying to smile through it like it didn’t rip them apart.

Things didn’t stay magical for long though. After she lost the baby during labor, Roman checked out completely. First emotionally, then physically. He left her not long after. Divorce papers came soon after that.

Then she rushed into another marriage, and that one lasted... maybe six months? Barely enough time to unpack. Another divorce.

Since then, she's been living with our parents. No job, no plans, just... existing.

She says she's still grieving, and I get itI really dobut Mom and Dad are breaking their backs trying to keep everything afloat, and she’s not lifting a finger to help.

"Okay," I said eventually. "If that’s what you think."

"Emily, please come for the dinner next week," Mom added gently. She knew me too well. I didn’t want to go. The idea of celebrating someone’s return from prison—when they weren’t even sorry—rubbed me the wrong way. But skipping it would break her heart, and that was something I couldn’t do.

Our family house is in Florida. It’s where we all grew up. The flight wouldn’t be a hassle, but the emotional trip? That was another story.

"I’ll come, Mom. See you then."

"Thank you, Em. Your dad and I are so proud of you. Don’t forget that."

"I know, Mom. Love you."

"Love you more, honey."

I ended the call and sighed, wrapping my arms around my legs and resting my head on my knees.

"I'm starving. What are you in for?" Gabby asked, breaking the silence.

I shook my head. "Not hungry."