APRICITY
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE Monica’s fingers dug into the crinkled paper bag in her lap. Her chest felt tight, her throat even tighter. “Annalise…” her voice cracked, quieter than she meant, “what are we going to do?” Annalise didn’t answer right away. Her gaze was locked on the ground, lashes low, her whole body too still. When she finally spoke, the words came out flat, brittle. “It’s over for us, Monica.” The air shifted. Heavy. Final. Nobody moved. Not even Beyoncé, who normally had something reckless to toss into the silence. Then— Ding. A tiny vibration against Monica’s palm. She blinked, glanced down. A second ding. Annalise’s phone lit up too. Both girls frowned, reading at the same time. Annalise’s brows shot up. “Wait… what?” Monica read twice just to be sure, then a startled
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