Page 57 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
"You think you can squeeze into our world, little girl?" Helga continued, her voice silk over steel. "You'll never be accepted. This is a losing battle. Woman to woman, stop embarrassing yourself."
Aria felt her cheeks heat, but refused to speak.
Helga leaned in as if sharing a secret. "Do you really want to condemn him to a life like this? With someone likeyou?"
The words landed heavy like a slap.
And then Gallen emerged from where he had been serving the next table, his eyebrows furrowed like thunderclouds. But before he could even get a word out, Liz was already at Aria's side-flour-dusted apron, hands on hips, glare like shards of broken glass.
"Get the hell out," Liz said flatly.
Helga looked up, arching one manicured brow. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You want to drink overpriced grass water and gossip with your plastic friends, then go to Chelsea. You don't walk in here and speak to our staff like that."
"Another specimen just like you," Helga mused almost to herself. "Perfect."
Gallen grunted, "Out."
But it was Liz who closed the distance. "You don't get to come in here and throw your daddy's money around like it buys you the right to humiliate people. And pay for your fucking coffee before you leave."
Helga's lips parted slightly. She stood, gathering her coat with theatrical precision. "I was only trying to help. Consider this your last moment of self-righteousness," she said coldly to Aria.
And then she left.
The café breathed again.
Aria stood frozen, unsure what had just happened.
Liz turned back towards the kitchen. "This is a one-time thing," she threw over her shoulder." I don't like people, but I really don't like rich folks trying to get away with that kind of shit."
She disappeared behind the counter.
"And she's back," Aria muttered under her breath, still gripping the edge of the table.
She continued her afternoon job at the Lackenbys, hands still trembling slightly from the scene. Her phone buzzed. Ophelia. She didn't answer. She didn't have it in her to listen to any explanations yet.
Chapter 31
Aria
One week after her ultrasound, when everything seemed to be settling into a rhythm, Aria got a call about a potential cleaning job in Chelsea. A private townhouse, with regular hours and good pay. It wasn't a dream job, but it was something. She hung up with a rare smile tugging at her lips, hope cautiously stirring in her chest for the first time in weeks.
She walked into the café in high spirits, her cheeks flushed from the cold, her mind already planning a grocery list that didn't involve the cheapest aisle in Tesco.
And that's when the first in a series of unfortunate bombs exploded in her life.
Gallen was already behind the counter, unusually quiet, his hands fussing with the till far longer than necessary. He barely grunted a hello. No jokes about the weather, no muttered curses about losing a bet. Just silence and a kind of heaviness that made her stomach clench.
An hour later, he called her into his tiny back office.
The room smelled like cheap air freshener and something sour underneath-sweat and nerves. A broken blind rattled faintly against the windowpane. Gallen was perched awkwardly on the edge of his squeaky swivel chair, hands clasped like he was trying to keep them from trembling. He didn't look directly at her.
He scratched the back of his neck, breathing heavier than usual. His skin glistened faintly with sweat despite the chill in the room.
"I've got to let you go, Aria," he said abruptly.
The words dropped like a trapdoor beneath her feet.
