ALEX.
I hated the back and forth almost immediately. It felt childish, messy, and unnecessary, like being dragged into a scene I never auditioned for. I replayed the scene in my head again, for the umpteenth time. Her voice was sharp, clipped, each word aimed like a blade, while mine trembled between apology and restraint. I had already said sorry—twice, actually—but it didn’t seem to matter. The more I tried to calm things down, the ruder she became, her eyes narrowing as though my very presence offended her.
“I already apologized,” I said softly, forcing myself to stay polite. “There was no intention to—”
“Oh, please,” she cut in, scoffing. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”
I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into my palm. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck, that familiar mix o
