Page 25 of Twisted Promise

Anya hesitantly nodded while he remained reserved and uncooperative. The interviewer pressed for clarification on whether they were friends in the present day. Anya’s pause stretched so long that the comment section spiraled into conspiracy theories.

She gave a weak smile as an answer, and the woman didn’t push further.

“What happened? Did you two grow apart?”

“Not really,” Anya muttered as she crossed her legs.

“Since you two were friends,” the interviewer emphasized slyly, “you must’ve met each other’s partners, right?”

Alessio heard her sigh, carrying a note of reluctant surrender. She understood she was cornered into following through with the interview to avoid triggering the penalty clause.

“You could say that,” Anya replied carefully.

“What was hisgirlfriendlike?” the woman asked, directing the question at Anya.

“Nice,” Anya squeaked as her fingers curled into the blanket on her lap.

“And him?” The woman redirected her interest to Alessio.

He hated how blatantly she flaunted her little trick as if she was too clever to be caught.

“She,” Alessio rectified resolutely, “was a coward.”

Tension danced around the dim room, the LED candle brightening the walls persistently, and the comments continued to change like the erratic weather above the seas.

“Who got custody of mutual friends?” the interviewer attempted to lighten the mood with a quirky question.

“We didn’t have mutual friends,” Alessio answered.

Anya’s only close friend was Meryl, whom he barely tolerated. For Anya’s sake, he would’ve tried harder to keep her in the neutral category if that woman wasn’t adamant about being a third wheel in their relationship.

As for him, he had no friends, only acquaintances, and at a distance he preferred.

“What made you attracted to your significant other?”

Anya’s response was instant. “Money.”

Alessio’s was just as quick. “Clueless mess.”

She whipped her head to him, her eyes frantically wide and affronted, but looked away when the comments on the monitor caught her in the act.

“What’s the pettiest thing you did after the breakup?”

Anya averted her eyes, then averted her whole body to the other side of the loveseat.

“She unbound my cards from her phone,” Alessio answered for her.

“Isn’t that normal for breakups?” The woman frowned as if he had grown three heads.

“No,” he replied with the confidence of a peacock. “I was used to her using it, and I still have withdrawal symptoms.”

The interviewer was stumped. Her hand went to her chin in a contemplative demeanor, and one of her fingers pressed tightly on her lips as a mountain formed between her knitted brows.

“Withdrawal,” the woman repeated as if the word itself puzzled her.

Alessio didn’t think it was a big deal. It was true. He wasn’t used to Anya not spending his money or the lack of purchase notifications popping up on his phone.

The absence felt detestable, and he hated it.

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