Chapter 2
749 Words
The sharp scent of new polyester and ambition hung thick in the cramped fitting room.
Sofia stood before the full-length mirror, adjusting the drape of her Master's hood in Communications.
The deep crimson velvet looked garish against her sun-kissed skin. "Pinch me, Angie," she breathed, her Colombian accent thicker with disbelief.
"I can't believe we're actually graduating. Maestras. Us." She turned, the hood slipping slightly. "Remember scraping English together in those ESL classes? Now look."
I smoothed the heavy black folds of my own gown – Master's in Business Administration.
The fabric felt stiff, unfamiliar, a stark contrast to the silk Jonathan preferred me in. A genuine smile touched my lips, warm and unexpected. "I know. Feels unreal."
My gaze drifted to the window overlooking the bustling campus quad. Five years. From that rain-slicked sidewalk clutching an umbrella like a lifeline, to here.
The debt wasn't just financial anymore; it was woven into my bones, my ambition fueled by the need to stand beside him, not behind him.
This degree was my first real step towards paying Jonathan back… towards being worthy.
"So," I said, turning back to Sofia, the smile lingering. "Double dinner date after the ceremony? You, me, Jonathan, Matthew? Celebrate properly. Champagne, maybe that little Italian place Matthew loves?"
Sofia froze mid-adjustment. Her reflection in the mirror went carefully blank. "I… can't."
She focused intently on securing the hood's clasp, her fingers fumbling slightly. "Actually, I'm breaking things off with Matthew."
The air felt suddenly colder. "Breaking things off?" I stepped closer, the gown rustling loudly in the sudden silence.
"But… he took you to meet his parents last month. Connecticut, right? The big house, the yacht club lunch? You said his mother loved you." Jonathan had mentioned it approvingly; Matthew Palmer was a partner at a prestigious firm, a 'solid match'. Sofia had seemed… pleased. Hopeful, even.
She finally met my eyes in the mirror. Hers were dark, unreadable pools. "Yeah. She did. They were… decent." A shrug, too casual.
"But Angie, that was never the point. We had an agreement. Clear as crystal from day one. Two years. He gets arm candy for functions, I get tuition paid, an apartment, the connections. Graduation was the finish line." Her voice was flat, pragmatic. "The deal's done."
I stared at her. The pragmatic Sofia I knew, the one who laughed about sugar daddies being 'venture capitalists for v*****s', suddenly felt like a stranger.
"But… do you want to break it off?" I pressed, my voice low. "After meeting his family? After all this time? Isn't there… anything?" Feelings, I wanted to scream. Didn't you feel anything when he touched you? When he looked at you across that yacht club table?
Sofia turned fully away from the mirror to face me. Her expression was cool, composed, a mask I recognized from a thousand society events we'd attended on our respective arms.
"A deal is a deal, hermana," she said, her tone final, almost brittle. "Feelings muddy the water. They make you weak. They make you forget the price tag."
She reached out and straightened the collar of my gown with a sharp, efficient tug. "We got what we came for. Degrees. Legitimacy. A way out of the sugar bowl. Why complicate it?"
Her gaze held mine, challenging, defensive. "Matthew understands the rules. He’ll move on to the next bright, ambitious girl needing a leg up before the ink on my diploma is dry. That’s how this works. Clean breaks."
The fitting room attendant bustled in then, chirping about cap tassels. The moment shattered. Sofia plastered on her dazzling social smile, turning back to the mirror. "Does this hood make my ass look big?" she joked, the lightness forced.
I forced a laugh in return, the sound hollow in my ears. Her words echoed, sharp and chilling: Feelings muddy the water. They make you weak. I looked down at my own hands gripping the stiff black fabric.
Jonathan’s recent distance, the late-night meetings, the phone calls abruptly silenced when I entered a room… Was Sofia right?
Was I drowning in muddy water, clinging to feelings Jonathan never truly promised beyond the confines of our arrangement?
The crisp new gown suddenly felt less like armor and more like a shroud. The graduation glee curdled, replaced by a cold dread that seeped deeper than the unfamiliar polyester. Clean breaks.
Was that all there ever was? Or was Sofia just better at lying to herself than I was?
- Writer
