Elena’s POV
“I knew it.”
Maribelle’s voice rang like a gavel slamming down in court. I froze mid-bite, halfway through a leftover sandwich, crumbs hanging dangerously close to my lap.
“Knew what?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
She marched into the living room, hands on her hips, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t play innocent with me, Elena. You’re glowing. Not just glowing—radiating. That’s not moisturizer. That’s a man.”
I choked on my bite. “Excuse me?”
I tried to deflect with humor. “Fine, you caught me. I spent my nights reorganizing files and… spreadsheets are just so satisfying.”
Maribelle snorted. “Liar. You look like you’ve been
...” she paused dramatically, then whispered, “....thoroughly ruined.”
I groaned. “Maribelle!”
Her grin only widen
