Chapter Six: The Fight

The world outside the café window was drenched in golden light.....the kind that made the city look soft, forgiving. Like maybe all the ugly things in it could be forgotten under the right filter.

I didn’t believe that. Not anymore.

Still, I stared, nursing my lukewarm coffee. Waiting.

Diane had asked to meet.

She said we’d been distant lately. Ironic, considering we shared the same apartment. According to her, we needed to “bond.”

And maybe she was right.

Ma....Maybe I needed this more than I wanted to admit. Not to rebuild our friendship...no...not that.

I needed to hear her say something. Anything. Something that would convince me it wasn’t her. That she didn’t stab me.

That maybe I was wrong.

That it was just a nightmare mixed with paranoia and too much grief.

Then she arrived.

Pink. Soft. Sweet.

Like a cupcake laced with poison.

Her floral dress clung to her frame delicately, her curls bouncing like she was the main character in some teen romcom. She wore perfume like armor an expensive scent that made you lean closer even when your instincts told you to run.

“Emma, what are you wearing?” she asked, sliding into the seat across from me. Her tone was half-laugh, half-reprimand. “Since when do you dress like this?”

I didn’t answer. Not immediately. Her eyes were scanning my body, then my face—like I was a puzzle she didn’t recognize anymore.

“And you still haven’t told me why you didn’t show up for that interview,” she added, flipping her hair. “The man’s willing to reschedule, you know? He’s still interested.”

I opened my mouth, but she kept talking.

“You’re being really ungrateful, Emma. Do you know how hard it was to set that up? Do you think people just get opportunities like this every day?”

“I never asked you to.......”

Before I could finish, the door slammed open, and the whirlwind of testosterone that was Robert stormed in.

“Why the fuck didn’t you show up for the interview?” he barked, marching straight to our table like he owned the damn place.

My spine straightened with a little bit of fear.

“You have any idea what we missed?” he spat, glaring at me like I’d cost him a million-dollar deal.

We.

Not Diane. Not him. We.

He didn’t even notice her flinch beside him. But I did.

His hand settled on her waist in a way no friend’s hand should.

Ah.

The things I used to overlook.

The way he looked at her when he thought I wasn’t watching.

The way she lit up like fireworks every time he touched her.

“You were supposed to be there!” Robert snapped again. “The man was ready. Everything was ready!”

For what?

A sleazy old man in a hotel room?

The look on Diane’s face was a giveaway. She tried to hide her panic beneath a sip of her latte, but her fingers trembled.

I wanted to believe she wasn’t the girl who killed me.

But she was definitely the girl who could sell me.

I stood slowly.

“You two make a great team,” I said quietly, voice low but sharp enough to slice through the space between us. “Truly.”

Robert sneered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” I shrugged. “Just that the masks are slipping. That’s all.”

Diane’s smile was fake… forced, trembling, terrified.

“Emma, don’t be like this,” she said. “You’re overreacting.”

“More like I'm seeing clearly,” I replied, grabbing my bag. “For once.”

I left them sitting there, choking on their own guilt.

I didn’t need more proof.

That entire performance was the final push I didn’t know I needed.

Outside the café, I pulled out my phone.

My hands were steady. My heart? Not so much.

But this time, I wouldn’t hesitate.

I typed one line and hit send:

“I’ll sign it. Let’s get married.”