Chapter Seven: A Lingering Glimpse.
344 Words
All evening, Maya couldn’t shake the image of Alex in the mirror. It wasn’t that she had seen anything scandalous—at least, not exactly. It was more the way Alex had tensed, as though caught in a secret she wasn’t ready to share.
Lying awake later that night, Maya replayed the moment again and again. She told herself she was overthinking. After all, Alex had been her best friend since university. They had studied late into the night together, comforted each other through heartbreaks, even planned silly road trips that never happened. Alex was steady, loyal, familiar.
But something about that half-open door felt like a window into a part of Alex she didn’t know.
The next morning, Maya met Daniel for breakfast at a café near his office. He was distracted, scrolling through his phone between bites of toast.
“You’re quiet today,” he said without looking up.
“Just tired,” Maya replied, stirring her coffee. She wanted to tell him about yesterday, about the odd weight sitting in her chest. But she stopped herself. Daniel was practical; he’d dismiss it as nothing. And maybe it was nothing.
When she later visited Alex, she noticed again how careful she was being. Alex joked, teased, asked about Jade’s party plans—but beneath the ease, Maya thought she saw restraint. A smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes.
At one point, Maya leaned back on the sofa and asked softly, “Do you ever feel like people only know part of who you are?”
The question slipped out before she could stop it.
Alex’s expression flickered. For a heartbeat, her walls dropped, and something raw glimmered there. Then she grinned, tossing a pillow at Maya. “What, are you writing poetry now?”
They laughed, and the tension dissolved. Yet as Maya watched Alex move about the room, she knew she wasn’t imagining it. There was more to her friend than she’d ever realized. And now, the thought of not knowing pressed on her like a shadow that wouldn’t lift.
- Writer
