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Aurora:

What the hell happened?

Kat, U there???

I turn my phone off. Toss it on the floor.

Then I scream into my pillow.

One of those full-body, ugly cries that starts deep in your gut and rips its way out.

Because I’m not just pissed at Liam.

I’m pissed at myself.

For letting him in. For falling for him. For pretending it didn’t mean something.

There’s a knock at the door a few hours later. I ignore it at first, thinking maybe it’s my neighbor or a delivery I didn’t order. But it comes again. Louder.

I peek out the window and freeze.

Aurora.

Phone in one hand, Starbucks bag in the other.

I open the door in a hoodie and yesterday’s eyeliner.

She looks at me with eyes, doesn’t flinch. Just walks in like she’s been here a hundred times and knows exactly where the emotional wreckage lives.

Sets the bag on the counter, pulls me into a hug so tight it knocks the breath out of me.

She doesn’t say are you okay? Just,“I saw the pics.”

Then softer, “And I saw his face.”

I nod into her shoulder. “He left.”

“I figured.”

No judgment. Just that calm, steady thing she does—like she’ll hold me up if I need it, no questions asked.

We sit. She hands me coffee. I take it like it might glue me back together.

“What now?” she asks, eyes on me, not pushing—just there.

“Don’t know—guess I should go to work. Pretend I’m a functional adult.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, sure. Or you could just sit on the floor and cry into a muffin. I’ve done both. Equal results.”

I huff a laugh. “I’m not ready to cry. Not anymore.”

“Then don’t. You don’t owe anyone that kind of unraveling.”

I look at her. “Including him?”

“Especially him.”

We sit in silence for a second. Just sipping. Breathing.