Lara-Jean POV
“Don’t panic,” Maya says. “But also… definitely panic.”
That’s how I wake up at six in the morning.
Her face fills my phone screen, hair wild, eyes blazing with the kind of energy that means disaster.
I push myself upright in bed.
“Maya,” I say slowly, “those two sentences cancel each other out.”
“Turn on the news.”
My stomach drops.
“What happened?”
“Just turn it on.”
Peter shifts beside me, half asleep. “What’s going on?”
I grab the remote and flick on the television.
Every channel.
Every single one.
Peter’s face fills the screen.
Then Alessandra’s.
Photos flash across the broadcast—Peter and Alessandra sitting at a restaurant table, laughing. Another photo: her hand on his arm. Another: the two of them leaving a building together, close enough to look intim
