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A slow breath seared through my lungs.

“Is everything okay?” Her worry dripped off the line.

“Nothing happened. I’m fine,” I lied. “It just… didn’t work out.” The words turned to ash in my mouth. “We’re worlds apart, so it’s probably for the best.”

Which was the closest I could come to telling her anything.

“Like hell it is… Can I come over?”

A pause pulled the line taut between us.

“Or… do you need time alone?”

Her voice was unbearably tender. For a flash, I considered spilling everything, letting someone else into my mess for once.

But then, the walls snapped back up.

“I-I’d like to be on my own.”

A breath sawed out of me.

“But I appreciate it, Pri.”

“Okay…” The scepticism practically screamed at me.

“Text if you need me.” She paused, probably wondering if she should push after all, before she sighed warily and settled on “goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

I cut the call before my voice could crack and betray me completely. Shameful tears stung my eyes, and I blinked them away furiously, but they wouldn’t stop.

Soft cotton pyjamas whispered over skin, and sheets rustled as I got into bed, but my plush pillows and the ylang-ylang failed to comfort me.

What was worse, as soon as my cheek touched the pillow, my mind started replaying the movie with disturbing accuracy. I buried my face in my blanket and cursed myself. For having picked horror—or for pulling away from him, I couldn’t tell.

It’s better this way, I kept repeating in my head, tossing and turning, jumping at every soft creak in the room.

Finally, I caved and called Pri, blaming the sleeplessness and the puffy eyes on the movie.

Her sweet and airy perfume and her hushed, blind reassurance were the last things I knew before sleep dragged me under.

Chapter thirty-two

Mia

The following day, I looked like I’d lost in a fistfight: puffy red eyes I could barely crack open, chapped lips, dry from the salt of my tears, and a headache that split my head with every breath.

I was in emotional and physical A&E, with Pri dishing out the cure: towel-wrapped ice compresses for the puffiness, followed by concealer painted over the purplish shadows underneath. And for my soul? Work.

I’d never seen her in the library on Sunday.

I must have worried her more than she let on.

The first of February showed no signs winter would relent to approaching spring anytime soon. On the contrary: campus slumbered under last night’s snowfall, the thick blanket crunching under our sleepy steps as the ivory facade of my favourite place came into view, blending so well with the snow, it looked built out of it.

We settled by the large arched window and waited for the rest of the squad. Pri scrolled on Pinterest while I revised the notes I’d done yesterday and tried not to think about last night.

My thoughts spiralled, jagged knots dripping venom.