Page 149 of A Solid Guide to Surviving a Situationship

Victor’s place was quiet in that same controlled way it always was­: curtains half-drawn, light filtered just enough to soften everything. He seemed like the kind of person who didn’t allow the morning to come in too loud.

Anyway, he was already up when I stepped into the kitchen.

Hair slightly tousled. Tank top that fit him just right. Moving around like nothing in the world had shifted.

“Hey,” he said once he saw me. “You’re up.”

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice still catching up to me.

He slid a plate toward me.

Toast. Eggs. Something simple. Something easy.

“Eat,” he said. “You barely touched your dinner last night.”

I nodded and took the seat across from him.

For a while, we didn’t say anything. We just listened to the quiet clink of utensils and the low hum of the air-conditioning that filled the space between us.

It should’ve felt normal…

It almost did.

But something sat heavy in my chest, pressing just enough to make everything feel slightly off.

And Victor noticed.

“You’re quiet,” he said, not looking up from his plate.

“I’m always quiet,” I tried.

“Not like this.”

A pause.

I pushed my food around for a second, watching the yolk break without really meaning to.

“How did it go yesterday?” he asked.

I let out a small breath, somewhere between a laugh and something heavier.

“We fought.”

Victor didn’t react immediately. He just leaned slightly in his chair, waiting.

“They… did something,” I continued. “Something I didn’t expect.”

He tilted his head just enough. “Like?”

I hesitated.

“They were the reason my exes came back,” I said. “All three of them. The ones I told you about. On my birthday at the club, and throughout the weeks after.”

I let out a small, disbelieving breath. Even saying it out loud felt strange.

But Victor didn’t look shocked.

“They planned it,” I added. “They reached out to them. Set it up.”