The next morning, I woke to the smell of pancakes and coffee. Despite everything weighing on my heart, my stomach reminded me that I hadn't eaten properly in hours. I found Sophia in her kitchen, already dressed for work but clearly making time for me.
"I called in and told them I'd be late today," she said without looking up from the stove. "Figured you might need someone to talk to."
I slumped into a chair at her kitchen island, grateful for her friendship. "I don't even know where to start processing all of this."
Sophia set a plate of warm pancakes in front of me and poured syrup generously over them. "Start with what you're feeling right now. Not what you think you should feel – what you actually feel."
"Betrayed," I said immediately. "Hurt. Confused. Angry." I paused, cutting int
