Page 138 of The Hollywood Switch-up

“I’m telling you now.”

“Thirty minutes.” Anneliese turned to Dr. Hanson, voice rising. “She’s having panic attacks. She’s not sleeping. And your professional advice is to put her thirty minutes away from anyone who can help her?”

“Anneliese.” The same quiet pressure. “What are you afraid of?”

Anneliese’s shoulders caved. She pressed her hands to her throat.

“That she’ll call and I won’t answer in time. That something will happen and I can’t protect her.” Her voice broke. “I already failed her once. I can’t do it twice.”

Erika’s throat went tight. She wanted to reach for Anneliese—to comfort her as she always had. But that was the old pattern. The one she was trying to break.

“You didn’t fail me. Martin failed me. The studio failed me. The system failed me.” She paused. “But Annie—I can’t find myself while living in your shadow. I need space to breathe. To figure out who I am when I’m not being your twin sister.”

Anneliese reached for her hand. Erika let her take it.

“I don’t want anything from you but you,” Anneliese whispered.

Erika’s voice cracked. “I don’t know who that is yet.”

Anneliese wiped her eyes. “When do you move?”

“Next week.”

“Okay. I hate it, but okay.” She squeezed Erika’s hand. “Promise you’ll call. Even if it’s three a.m. Even if you think it’s stupid.”

“I promise.”

Dr. Hanson closed her notebook—a small, deliberate sound that meant the session was over even if nothing felt finished. “One more thing. You mentioned someone else you need to confront. Are you ready to talk about him?”

She hadn’t said his name in weeks.

“Not yet. But soon.”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

In the passenger seat, East Hollywood slid past. Neon signs bleeding into twilight, coffee shops with fairy lights, murals splashed across brick walls in colors she used to know the names of. Cadmium orange. Phthalo blue. A massive billboard loomed over Sunset: Ariel Waves, the former child star turned pop princess, red hair blazing against turquoise, promoting her new album. From the Deep.

She was an outline without color.

Anneliese drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Erika knew that rhythm. It meant she was working up to something.

“So,” Anneliese said, too casual. “Have you thought about reaching out to⁠—”

“Stop.”

“I’m saying, if you wanted to hear his side⁠—”

“I don’t.” She was shaking. She couldn’t help it. “I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to hear his side. I don’t want anything to do with him.”

Anneliese was quiet for a moment. Then: “There’s something else. About Stefan.”

Erika’s whole body went tight. “Annie⁠—”

“Let me say it.” Anneliese’s voice shook. “I was jealous. Petty. I made him the enemy before you even met him—fed you every headline, every rumor, every reason not to trust him. He hurt you, and part of me felt justified.” She exhaled. “I need you to know that. Whatever you decide about him, you deserve to make that choice without my voice in your head poisoning it.”

Erika didn’t move.

“But maybe if I hadn’t done that from the start—” Anneliese broke off. “Maybe you’d have let yourself fall without all that armor in the way.”