She stares at me.
"I—it was dark?—"
"Try again."
"I remember feeling it when we were?—”
"You're lying. Devon doesn't have a piercing. He never has. But if you'dactuallyslept with him, you would have known I was testing you."
Mila's face deforms into something so ugly I move back.
"You think you're so smart," she hisses. "You think you've got it all figured out. But you don't know what happened in that room.Youweren't there."
“It didn’t happen, Mila.” I push back from the table. "Not the way you're claiming."
"Devonwantedme." Her voice rises, drawing glances from nearby tables. “He’s always wanted me! He kissed me like he meant it. He fucked me?—"
"He stopped." I stand, and for the first time in my life, I feel taller than her. "He stopped, and you can't stand it. So now you're inventing a pregnancy to trap him? To hurt me? What exactly is your endgame here, Mila?"
She's crying now—or performing tears, I can't tell the difference anymore. "I'mnotlying about being pregnant."
"Then get a paternity test. When it proves Devon isn't the father, we'll all know exactly who you are."
"You bitch." The word explodes out of her, her lips contorting to form the words. “You always thought you were better than me. You and your perfect little love story. Devon only stayed with you because he felt sorry for you?—"
"He stayed with me because he loves me." The truth of it burns in my chest, and a lump forms in my throat. "Something you've never understood."
I grab my purse and turn toward the door.
"He'll leave you," Mila calls after me, her voice cracking. "When he realizes what you really are—insecure and pathetic—he'll leave you for someone better.”
I stop with my hand on the door.
For years, those words would have killed me and sent me running to the bathroom to cry, to examine my body in the mirror and study every flaw, vowing to changethem.
But I'm not eighteen anymore. I'm not the girl who let Mila Harris define her worth.
I turn back, and lock eyes with the she-devil.
"You have no idea what I am," I say.
Then I walk out into the afternoon sun, where Devon is waiting in the car with his eyes fixed on the coffee shop door. When he sees me, his whole body sags with relief.
I slide into the passenger seat and close my eyes for a moment, letting the adrenaline drain from my poor, tired body.
"How bad was it?" Devon asks quietly.
"She's unhinged." I open my eyes and look at him—at this man who broke my heart but is trying so hard to put it back together. "But she's also lying. About everything."
“You—you believe me now?” Devon stammers, like he can’t believe it.
"I do.” I reach for his hand. "She didn't sleep with you, Devon. She couldn't answer basic questions about your body—she's been manipulating us both."
Devon's exhale is ragged. "Jade?—"
I squeeze his fingers. “It will probably get worse. We need to be prepared for that.”
He nods, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. "Whatever you need. Whatever it takes."
