The Confrontation
688 Words
POV: Zara
Zara adjusted her sleeves for the third time in five minutes.
The train ride up to Montmartre had been quiet—too quiet. And now, standing in front of Camille’s door, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t going to be just coffee and gossip.
She knocked once.
The door flung open immediately.
Camille, barefoot, wearing an oversized band tee and velvet shorts, raised an eyebrow. “You’re late.”
Zara smiled stiffly. “Traffic.”
Camille stepped aside, letting her in. “You walked from the train station.”
Zara blinked. “You watching me now?”
“Just observant.”
The room smelled like grapefruit and clove. The windows were open, and the city sang softly outside. Zara perched on the edge of Camille’s emerald velvet couch, legs crossed.
Camille handed her a cup of black coffee—no sugar, no milk. A silent reminder that she knew Zara never took it that way.
Zara took a sip anyway.
“So,” Camille said, dropping onto a chair opposite her, legs folded under her like a cat. “Wanna tell me why Dani Cole was practically breathing you in on that rooftop?”
Zara froze.
Camille’s tone was casual, but her eyes were sharp. Too sharp.
“We were just talking,” Zara said.
“Mm.” Camille tilted her head. “Because when I ‘just talk’ to someone, I usually don’t touch their face or stare at their lips like I want to crawl inside them.”
Zara set the cup down a little too quickly.
Camille leaned forward.
“I’m not stupid, Z. And I’m not mad. I’m just… surprised. Dani? Dani?”
Zara swallowed hard. “It’s not what you think.”
“Really?” Camille said. “Because what I think is that you’re in way over your head.”
Zara stood. “Why does it matter to you?”
Camille didn’t flinch. “Because you’re my friend. And because she’s Maya’s friend. And this isn’t a crush anymore, is it?”
Zara didn’t answer.
That was enough.
Camille stood too. “She’s older. Complicated. And you—”
“—am not a child,” Zara cut in sharply.
“No, you’re not,” Camille said. “But you’re still someone who’s going to get hurt if you think love makes this okay.”
Zara looked away.
“Does Maya know?” Camille asked, quieter now.
Zara shook her head. “Not officially.”
“She suspects,” Camille said. “I can tell. And if you don’t say something soon, it’s going to come out ugly.”
Zara sat again, this time sinking deeper into the couch like it could hold her weight.
“I don’t know how to tell her,” she said. “I don’t even know what this is yet.”
Camille softened just slightly.
“You care about her?”
Zara looked at her, eyes burning.
“I’m in love with her.”
The silence between them stretched—no longer tense, just thick with truth.
Camille walked over and sat beside her.
“She’s not the type to love halfway,” she said. “So if she’s in this too… you need to be ready for the fallout.”
Zara nodded, heart thudding painfully.
“I don’t want to lose my sister.”
“Then tell her before she finds out from someone who doesn’t love you.”
⸻
🌙 Later that evening – Zara’s apartment
Zara sat by her window, Dani’s last message still unread on her screen.
“Lunch with Maya tomorrow. Pray for me.”
Zara typed:
“She won’t hate you. She’ll just hate that we lied.”
Then deleted it.
Then typed again.
“Come over. Just for a little.”
This time, she sent it.
She didn’t expect a reply right away. Dani liked space, time, silence.
But a minute later, her screen lit up.
Dani: On my way.
Zara stood, heart racing.
This wasn’t just about secrets anymore.
It was about choosing what kind of love they were brave enough to live out loud.
- Writer
