CHAPTER 8
1723 Words
Gwen’s cheerful voice filled the air as we walked into a cozy little café called “Whisk & Wonder.” She picked it, of course. The girl had a sixth sense for places with pastel walls and overpriced pastries. I wasn’t really in the mood, but after everything lately—Troy’s distance, Mayor Chinjao’s smug face, my anxiety over Lexi’s gown—I figured maybe sugar would help.
“Two slices of your chocolate fudge cake, please. And an iced latte,” Gwen told the cashier like she’d rehearsed it in her dreams.
I sat down by the glass window, fingers drumming against the table. My head throbbed slightly. I hadn’t slept much last night. All I could think about was the gown, the deadline, and Troy’s empty bedroom.
Gwen slid the table number in front of me and plopped into the chair opposite. “You look like you’ve been run over by a sewing machine.”
“Thanks, Gwen. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me today.”
She giggled. “No, really. You need to sleep. Or scream. Or eat a tub of frosting. Or all three.”
I chuckled faintly, but my stomach churned. The anxiety wouldn’t go away. I pulled out my phone instinctively, scrolling up my messages with Troy.
“Gwen,” I said slowly, “am I crazy or… do you think something’s really going on with Troy?”
She hesitated, then blinked. “I think you deserve someone who texts back.”
Before I could respond, my eyes caught a blur of movement near the entrance. A tall guy in a navy blue hoodie walked in.
No.
It couldn’t be.
But it was.
Troy.
And not alone.
With him was her. The same woman from the message preview on his phone. The same strawberry blonde with the long legs and that annoyingly polished laugh.
They didn’t see us. Not yet. They walked to a corner booth, and she touched his arm like she owned it.
I froze. My mouth suddenly dry. “Gwen,” I whispered, “don’t turn around.”
“Too late,” she muttered under her breath. “Oh my… is that—?”
“Yes.”
My heart dropped. I felt heat crawling up my neck, a mix of anger and humiliation. Without thinking, I stood up.
Gwen reached for my wrist. “Wait—”
But I was already walking.
Troy looked up, mid-laugh.
And froze.
His smile vanished. “Callie?”
I stared at him. “Wow. You do remember my name.”
The girl beside him looked confused, like she didn’t expect to be interrupted in her secret date fantasy.
“Callie, it’s not what it looks like,” Troy said, standing up halfway.
“Oh, really?” I said, voice cracking. “Because it looks like you’re having coffee with her while ignoring my messages.”
“Babe—”
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped.
Gwen had followed quietly behind me and now stood awkwardly beside the booth, clearly ready to throw hands if I needed backup.
The girl opened her mouth. “I think I should go—”
“No, please,” I interrupted, eyes never leaving Troy. “Stay. I’d love to hear how long this has been going on.”
“She’s just a friend,” Troy said too quickly.
“A friend who sends you texts at midnight?” I laughed bitterly. “You must have really friendly conversations.”
Troy exhaled, visibly annoyed now. “Look, can we not do this here? You always overreact.”
I blinked. “Overreact?”
“You’re always so busy, Callie. The boutique, the gown, your ‘vision.’ I barely see you anymore.”
I stared at him. “So this is my fault now? Because I’m working hard for something I believe in?”
“I’m not saying it’s wrong to have dreams. But you’ve made it clear you don’t have time for us.”
“There is no us, apparently!” I snapped. “You replaced me with some coffee shop Barbie while I’m out here stressing over stitches and deadlines!”
He shook his head. “You just don’t get it.”
“And you never did,” I whispered.
The café was now silent. Even the barista behind the counter was pretending to polish a cup with maximum concentration.
Tears threatened to blur my vision, but I wouldn’t let them fall. Not here. Not in front of her.
Gwen gently touched my elbow. “Let’s go, Cal.”
I turned on my heel, fists clenched, head held high. As we passed the counter, our cake slices were finally being delivered to our table.
“Can we get those to go?” Gwen asked sweetly to the stunned barista.
I felt like collapsing. But I didn’t.
I kept walking.
“You okay?” Gwen asked.
“No,” I replied honestly.
And somehow, that felt better than pretending.
I didn’t even feel my legs anymore. I was floating—or maybe falling. I wasn’t sure.
The café door was right there, one more step and I’d be out, away from the wreckage, away from him. But for some reason, I froze. My heart was pounding so loud it could’ve echoed in the café’s walls.
Troy was still standing next to the table, arms crossed, eyes glaring at me like I was the one who had done something wrong. Like I was the one sneaking around.
No.
I turned back around. Gwen gasped softly beside me, tugging at my sleeve like she was trying to stop a tornado with a piece of yarn.
“Callie—”
I raised one hand to hush her.
My heels clacked like a battle cry against the tile floor as I walked back to Troy’s table. The girl—her, whoever she was—looked up at me with wide, mascara-heavy eyes. Probably wondering if I was going to yank her wig off. I wish I had that energy. But I was too tired.
Too. Damn. Tired.
"You know what, Troy?" I said, voice cracking like cheap porcelain but still loud enough for the curious café-goers to hear. “Let’s not drag this any longer. Maybe it’s better if we end this now.”
Silence.
His jaw clenched.
That was it. That was all I needed.
I didn’t wait for him to respond. I spun on my heel, chin up even though my heart had just shattered into glitter-sized fragments. Gwen followed quickly, practically tripping over herself trying to keep up.
“Okay, okay, oh my God—Callie—just breathe, okay?” she said, already fumbling for my car keys. “Where’s your car? I’m driving.”
“Outside.” My voice sounded weird—too calm for someone who just broke up with her boyfriend in front of his new girl. My body moved on autopilot as we exited the café. The second the sunlight hit my face, I crumbled.
Not fully—but enough.
Tears started falling in silent trails, then picked up into heavy sobs. Gwen took the keys from my hand gently, like she was diffusing a bomb. She opened the passenger door and helped me inside before running around to the driver’s seat.
“Buckle up, designer queen,” she said softly, trying to inject humor into the moment as she clicked her own seatbelt. “We’re going home.”
“I don’t want to go home,” I choked out, eyes puffy and voice raspy. “I need to work on the gown.”
Gwen paused, halfway through adjusting the seat.
“Seriously? You just got your heart stomped on, and you want to go sew pearls onto a gown?”
“I have to. It’s due in three days. And it’s Lexi Bellington’s wedding gown. Lexi Bellington, Gwen.”
“I know who she is,” Gwen mumbled. “You say her name like she’s a Marvel superhero.”
“She kind of is, in fashion terms.”
Gwen sighed, but she started the car anyway.
The drive back to the boutique was oddly quiet. No music. Just the hum of the city outside and the occasional sniffle from me as I tried to wipe away my tears with my blouse. I felt like a soggy cupcake—sweet but falling apart.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” Gwen finally said as we pulled into the parking lot of Magic Fashion Boutique. “I know you feel like everything’s collapsing, but you’ve come so far. You got Lexi Bellington to trust you. That’s not a small thing.”
“Then why doesn’t it feel like enough?” I whispered. “Why does everything else feel like it’s falling apart just when I thought I was getting somewhere?”
She parked the car and turned to me, eyes soft and full of empathy.
“Because you’ve been juggling too much. You’re human, Cal. Not a superhero. Even designers need breaks.”
I nodded weakly, unbuckling my seatbelt with shaky fingers.
As we stepped into the boutique, the familiar scent of fabric softener, freshly brewed coffee, and Gwen’s stash of candy hit me all at once. It felt like home. But even home felt unfamiliar today.
The boutique lights blinked on as we entered, casting a golden hue on the sewing machines, half-done mannequins, and pinned sketches on the corkboard. My eyes fell on the gown—Lexi’s gown—half-finished but still stunning. Like me, maybe. Still standing, but barely holding it together.
I slumped onto the couch in the back office, covering my face with both hands. Gwen didn’t say anything at first. She just sat next to me, letting the silence wrap around us like a warm quilt.
Then, after a beat, she stood up.
“Alright,” she said in her usual chipper voice. “Time for an emergency sugar dose. Let's eat your favorite cake.”
I lifted my head slightly. “It's chocolate?”
“Duh. With that thick cream chocolate frosting you love.”
I sniffled. “I shouldn’t… I have so much to do.”
“You also just dumped your cheating boyfriend. If that’s not a cake-worthy occasion, I don’t know what is.”
- Writer
