The croissants crackle on the rack behind me. “Pri... Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s been coming since the summer,” she says, her chin dropping to her chest. “It’s not a fight or abuse or anything like that. There wasn’t some big night where somebody threw a plate. It just… isn’t working. It’s like trying to revive a dead body, and there’s just no heartbeat left.”
I frown. “But Pri… you worked Christmas week. You worked doubles, for God’s sake.”
“Yeah, well.” She lifts a shoulder. “The money situation is about to get a little tougher, so I figured it was good to get it in while I can.”
“Priya, I—”
“The lease is in both our names through September,” she continues over my protests. “So there’s that. And then there’s the fact that I’m about to be paying for an apartment with one income
