screens

The sun had barely risen when the doorbell rang, loud and persistent. Kyrie groaned from her mattress on the floor, burying her head under a pillow. Mandy stirred beside her on the couch, and Jules crashed out like a royal in Kyrie’s narrow armchair snorted awake.

“Who the hell…” Mandy mumbled, dragging herself up as Kyrie rubbed her eyes and stood.

When Kyrie opened the door, Sebastián stood on the porch, holding a sleek black phone box. His hair was damp like he’d just showered, and he wore a fresh charcoal hoodie and joggers that looked expensive without trying.

“Morning,” he said, offering a rare half-smile as he handed her the phone. “Told you I’d drop it off.”

Kyrie blinked. “You didn’t have to come this early.”

“I did,” he replied. “Wanted to make sure you got it before your day started. It’s already activated. Passcode is your birthday.” With that, he turned and headed down the steps before she could even thank him properly.

The moment the door shut behind her, Mandy and Jules pounced like a pack of gossip-hungry wolves.

“Oh my God,” Mandy whispered loudly. “He brought you a phone?”

“Not just a phone,” Jules added, snatching the box and inspecting it. “This is the latest model. Girl, I don’t even have this one yet.”

Kyrie took it back, cheeks warm. “Guys, calm down. He’s just being nice. He reminds me of my brother, that’s all.”

“Brother, huh?” Mandy echoed, one brow high.

“Babe,” Jules drawled, spinning toward the kitchen, “If that’s your brother, I have some serious questions about your childhood.”

Kyrie rolled her eyes, laughing softly. But even she couldn’t deny how warm her chest felt.

“Well,” Mandy said brightly, clapping her hands. “Now that we can finally track your ass, let’s go blow some money.”

The mall buzzed with Saturday energy. Mandy had dressed Kyrie in her favorite oversized hoodie and black jeans, with her curls loosely tied back.

Their first stop was a vintage boutique with golden lighting and velvet curtains. Jules fawned over Kyrie in a red blazer-dress, while Mandy made her try on sunglasses that made her feel like a celebrity.

They laughed, posed for fake paparazzi shots in the dressing room mirror, and shared greasy cinnamon rolls in the food court. For the first time in a while, Kyrie forgot about everything the punch, the café, .

But somewhere between the second store and the third, the vibe shifted.

“Why are people staring?” Mandy asked under her breath, clutching a bag of shoes.

Kyrie had noticed it too whispers behind raised phones, a group of girls pointing from across the walkway.

Jules narrowed his eyes. “Something’s off.”

Just then, a girl in tight jeans and a cropped tee blatantly raised her phone and started recording.

“This is her,” she whispered loudly to her livestream. “That hostess girl from the Reynolds thing.”

Jules stormed over, snatched the phone gently but firmly from the girl’s hand, and ended the livestream. “What the hell are you doing?”

The girl shrank back. “It’s all over online! Check for yourself.”

His stomach dropped. Without a word, Jules pulled out his own phone and started scrolling.

Within seconds, his expression darkened.

Mandy leaned over his shoulder. “What is it?”

Kyrie’s heart pounded. “What’s going on?”

Jules didn’t answer. Instead, he turned the screen to show them. A video…grainy, clearly taken from a phone showed her and Lucian at the lounge. The sound was muffled, but it captured the tension… and the punch.

The comments below were a storm:

“She should be fired. What kind of place hires violent staff?” “You can tell she looks uncomfortable. Why’s everyone bashing her?” “If they keep her, I’m never going back there again.” “Another gold digger trying to act like she’s the victim.”

Kyrie felt something inside her twist and sink. She blinked fast as her mouth went dry.

Jules saw her expression and quickly shut the phone off. “Hey. Don’t even think about it. Don’t let these people get in your head.”

“But they’re saying…”

“They’re cowards behind screens,” Jules snapped. “You did nothing wrong. I’ll call your manager. He will set this straight.”

Kyrie hugged her arms around herself. “Can we just finish and go home?”

Mandy shook her head. “Nope. Not happening.”

Kyrie looked at her, confused. “What?”

“I already booked an appointment at the salon,” Mandy said, linking her arm through Kyrie’s. We’re doing something about your hair. You’re not going to let some internet vultures dim your light.”

Jules took Kyrie’s other arm. “Agreed. Now, let’s go get you that ‘I-don’t-care-what-you-think’ glow-up.”

They arrived at the salon just past noon, tucked between a boutique yoga studio and an artisanal bakery with wildflower arrangements in the window. Kyrie wouldn’t have noticed it if Mandy hadn’t confidently pushed the door open and ushered her in like she owned the place.

Inside, it was a whole other world.

Soft jazz played in the background, and the scent of eucalyptus and honeyed shampoo lingered in the air. The space was bright and airy, all natural wood and gold accents, with ivy curling from the ceiling and mirrors that caught the light just right.

Stylists moved gracefully between clients, focused, professional…no drama, no loud chatter. Just quiet laughter, the buzz of dryers, and the occasional compliment exchanged like currency.

“This… is where you work?” Kyrie whispered, eyes wide.

Mandy beamed. “Yep. Welcome to Luna & Blade. Told you I didn’t just do nails in some basement salon.”

They were barely two steps in before a tall woman with silver braids and flawless skin appeared from the back. “Mandy,” she greeted warmly, pulling her into a hug. “This the friend?”

“She’s the one,” Mandy said proudly. “We need a transformation.”

Kyrie barely had time to protest before she was whisked away into a chair. No one asked about Lucian. No one whispered or stared. They treated her like any other client.

The stylist, a soft-spoken guy named Ezra, ran his fingers through her red curls with admiration. “Gorgeous texture,” he murmured. “Let’s do something that screams flirty danger, yeah?”

Kyrie blinked. “Uh…sure?”

Mandy nodded like she’d just won a bet. “Give her volume. Layers. Maybe a swoop.”

An hour and a half later, Kyrie barely recognized the girl in the mirror. Her red curls had been shaped into soft layers that framed her face and cascaded down her shoulders like fire. Ezra left a few strands to flirt with her cheekbones, and the ends bounced like they had a life of their own.

Jules gasped theatrically. “Hold on…hold on. Let me grab your phone.”

Kyrie hesitated, reaching for her bag. She pulled out the sleek new phone Sebastián had given her earlier and handed it over.

“He said it was an old one,” she murmured, watching Jules line her up for a photo. “But this is definitely brand new.“

Mandy raised a brow. “What kind of ‘brother’ lies like that?”

Kyrie didn’t answer. But her chest felt weirdly warm again.

Jules snapped a few pictures. “You look like a dangerous Disney princess. The good kind.”

By the time they left the salon, the adrenaline had worn off. Their feet ached. Their energy was dipping.

“Takeaway?” Mandy suggested, stretching her arms over her head.

“Yes,” Jules groaned. “And I’m staying over. My feet are staging a protest.”

They walked into a sleek Korean fusion restaurant near the parking garage. The place was dimly lit with paper lanterns and moody wood panels. A hostess led them toward a booth near the back but they didn’t make it that far.

A woman in towering heels and blood-red lipstick stomped up to them with the energy of a thunderstorm. Her designer dress clung to her like it was stitched onto her skin, and her hair was styled to perfection. But her expression was anything but beautiful.

Lucian’s twin.

“You…you’re the problem,” she snapped, pointing a manicured finger at Kyrie. “You’re ruining my brother’s life!”

Kyrie froze. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb, you little lowlife. You think you can hit him, cry for sympathy, and slither around in public like you’re some victim?”

The restaurant went quiet. Phones were already up. At least three people had started taking videos.

Mandy stepped in first. “Back off. She didn’t ruin anything. Your brother’s the one who…”

“shut up! I'm not talking to you. You’re all delusional,” Lucian’s sister hissed, her voice rising. “We should sue her! She’s trash. If I ever see you near him again, I swear…”

“Enough,” Jules said, stepping forward like a storm in silk. “You Reynolds think you’re some kind of royalty, huh? Newsflash, sweetheart: your whole family’s a public embarrassment. Take your fake lashes and go sob into a martini.”

Her eyes flared. “You little…”

A manager arrived, tight-lipped and clearly used to rich people drama. “I’m going to have to ask you all to leave.”

“What?” Mandy shouted. “She came at us!”

The manager didn’t flinch. “We don’t tolerate conflict. Please exit the restaurant.”

They were ushered outside under the glow of cameras and whispers.

Once they were back on the sidewalk, Kyrie sighed and dropped onto a bench. “What now?” she muttered, pressing her hands to her temples. “They’re everywhere. Why don’t I just go home and you guys can bring the food?”

Mandy, red-faced and panting from shouting, sat beside her and offered a crooked grin. “Don’t worry, Kyrie. We’ve got your back. I just… can’t believe that family has the nerve.”

Jules let out a half-laugh as he rubbed his face. “I swear, it’s genetic. All Reynolds are jerks.”