Raya watched the girl practically run out the door, her heels clicking frantically against the pavement. The girl's parting words—"I don't care, I know he loves me"—hung in the air like a desperate, flimsy shield.
"Seven years," Raya whispered, looking at the empty doorway. "Seven years for a man who was building a life with someone else for two of them."
Chloe stepped up beside her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. "Honey, she didn't win. She just inherited a professional liar. Let her keep the trash; you’ve got a king waiting for you."
Raya took a deep breath, the cold clarity of the situation settling in. She walked up to the counter and handed the black card to the cashier, who had been watching the drama with wide eyes. "I'll take everything we picked out," Raya said, her voice
