The next morning came too bright, too ordinary—one of those days that dressed itself in normalcy just to hide the storm beneath.

After what happened at the café, Serena told herself she wouldn’t think about Eve anymore. She wouldn’t think about the coffee, the whispers, or the words that refused to leave her head: You took my life for me.

To her, Eve was jealous. Bitter. Wicked. That was what Serena repeated to herself, again and again, until the sting of shame dulled into ...