I should’ve listened to my gut. That tiny, insistent voice that had been whispering for days that something about Zaria’s sudden warmth wasn’t right. But loneliness has a way of dulling instincts, and after the argument with Adrian, I was too raw, too angry, too exhausted to think clearly.
That’s how I ended up here—walking straight into the perfect storm.
Zaria had been her usual coaxing self, convincing me to come by for a late-night wind-down at her apartment. She said I needed space, said Adrian’s protective streak was suffocating me, said I deserved someone who would “just listen.” The words hit all the right places in my bruised heart. And so I let her lead me, let her pour me a drink while she talked about old times, about how we’d once been inseparable.
The drink tasted faintly
