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‘You’re unbelievable,’ I say, rounding on her, anger spearing through me.

She leans against my dresser like she owns the room. ‘What did I do?’

‘You know exactly what you’re doing.’

She looks down at herself. At my top. ‘Borrowing clothes?’

‘Sending him messages like that. You couldn’t stand that I was happy and had something that you didn’t.’

‘I can’t help it that he wanted me,’ she says, and my fingernails bite so hard into my skin, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve drawn blood. ‘I mean, he’s pretty hot. If you’re not going to talk to him, I will.’

Her words land like a slap to the face and I physically jerk backwards, unable to process what she just said to me. ‘What?’

She pushes off the dresser, stepping closer. ‘He’s interesting. Intense. I get why you liked him.’

‘You don’t get to talk to him,’ I snap.

‘Why not?’ Her eyes flash. ‘You’re not, and it’s pretty clear he likes me.’

The words lodge under my skin. My brain betrays me instantly. I see it: Ash standing over her, the two of them moving in closer, Isla reaching up on her tiptoes to meet him. She always draws people in. Her beauty attracts them, and because she’s outgoing, she can talk to them more easily than I can. I’m too quiet, too wrapped up in my own head. Isla laughs, flirts, and makes people feel like they’re important to her.

What if he was tired of me? What if he wanted someone who was flirtier and more fun? My chest tightens as comparison after comparison stacks up in my mind. Her hair is shinier, her teeth are straighter, her presence is effortless. Maybe he did look at her. Maybe our love wasn’t the once-in-a-lifetime thing I thought I was.

‘He’s all yours, sis,’ she continues, rolling her eyes. ‘He’s a creepy stalker. I’ve seen him looking through our windows – my window. The guy’s weird. Honestly, I’ve probably done you a favour.’

Stalker? Looking through our windows? What is she talking about? Is this the truth, or just another lie? I can’t tell anymore.

‘Why do you swoop in every time I have something and try to make it yours? Is your own life so pathetic that you need to take from me to make yourself feel better?’

Her eyes narrow into slits, making her look like the mean girl she really is. ‘I don’t do that.’

‘You do,’ I insist. ‘The friends I bring over. The clothes I buy. The hobbies I start. You slide into everything like you’re entitled to it.’

‘You’re insane.’

‘Am I?’ I gesture at my shirt on her body. ‘You couldn’t even let me have this. I’m sure you think it looks better on you, which means it’s yours to claim.’

‘You act like you’re so special,’ she says. ‘But you’re not. In fact, you’re desperate and fucking embarrassing.’

The venom in her voice shocks me.

‘Embarrassing?’ I repeat, like if I say it again it’ll make more sense.

‘Yes.’ She steps closer, like she wants the word to land properly. ‘You build these dramatic little love stories in your head and then act devastated when reality doesn’t match them.’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I know exactly what I’m talking about,’ she snaps. ‘You are desperate for attention.’

My heartbeat is loud in my ears. ‘He loved me, and you hated that he did. You couldn’t stand the spotlight being on me.’

She laughs, and it’s a sharp, bitter sound. ‘Loved you?’ she echoes. ‘God, Bryn. You’re so naive. Getting in your pants and love are two very different things.’

Something cracks inside me, like a hairline fracture running through glass, invisible, but impossible to mend. Something deep and foundational shifts out of place. It’s not just my heart, but something tied to how I see myself, how I believed I was seen. All this time, I thought what we had was rare. I thought it was intense because it was real, and physical because it meant something. Now her words slither in and twist my perception. What if I misread it? What if I was just convenient? She says it like she knows something I don’t, as if she’s seen something I haven’t. I can’t tell if what’s breaking inside me is trust in him, or trust in my own judgement.

‘You weren’t there,’ I say, but my words come out quieter than I wanted them to.

‘No,’ she says. ‘I was.’