Page 13 of Their Arrangement

Loyal’s gaze dropped to the floor. “She was right.”

We were quiet again.

Then he turned.

Walked away without another word.

And I stood there, in front of the only photograph of the girl I loved more than anything, feeling like maybe this building had already buried me too.

I left the photo behind.

I couldn’t stand the way Camille smiled at me—like she still believed in me. Like I hadn’t abandoned her. Like I hadn’t crawled back into this world too late, dragging guilt and debt like a shadow.

The hallway was fuller now.

People returning from meetings, coffee runs, rooftop smoke breaks. The energy had shifted—brisk, focused, self-important. Women in sharp blazers strutted past with the click of four-inch heels, their voices cool and decisive. Men walked in smooth, choreographed packs, hands tucked into pockets of tailored slacks, their laughs low and effortless.

I didn’t fit.

I never had.

And now, I didn’t even try to pretend.

I ducked into the nearest bathroom, yanked the stall door shut, and locked it with shaking fingers. The clack of the latch echoed too loud in the tiled silence.

I sat on the closed toilet lid and pulled my knees to mychest. Pressed my palms to the tops of my thighs until the heat from them grounded me.

Until I felt real.

Not like a shadow.

Not like a mistake.

Not like a girl trying to resurrect a life she never got to claim.

My phone buzzed.

One sharp vibration in the pit of my bag.

I knew who it was before I pulled it out.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

You’re not here to make friends. You’re here to keep your mouth shut.

No signature.

But I didn’t need one.

Selene.

Her voice lived inside my bones now. Cold. Controlled. Sliced into everything soft.

I stared at the message for a long moment before putting the phone on silent and shoving it back into my bag. Like I could push her away that easily.

But she always came back.

Always knew the perfect moment to tighten her grip.