Page 13 of Their Arrangement
Loyal’s gaze dropped to the floor. “She was right.”
We were quiet again.
Then he turned.
Walked away without another word.
And I stood there, in front of the only photograph of the girl I loved more than anything, feeling like maybe this building had already buried me too.
I left the photo behind.
I couldn’t stand the way Camille smiled at me—like she still believed in me. Like I hadn’t abandoned her. Like I hadn’t crawled back into this world too late, dragging guilt and debt like a shadow.
The hallway was fuller now.
People returning from meetings, coffee runs, rooftop smoke breaks. The energy had shifted—brisk, focused, self-important. Women in sharp blazers strutted past with the click of four-inch heels, their voices cool and decisive. Men walked in smooth, choreographed packs, hands tucked into pockets of tailored slacks, their laughs low and effortless.
I didn’t fit.
I never had.
And now, I didn’t even try to pretend.
I ducked into the nearest bathroom, yanked the stall door shut, and locked it with shaking fingers. The clack of the latch echoed too loud in the tiled silence.
I sat on the closed toilet lid and pulled my knees to mychest. Pressed my palms to the tops of my thighs until the heat from them grounded me.
Until I felt real.
Not like a shadow.
Not like a mistake.
Not like a girl trying to resurrect a life she never got to claim.
My phone buzzed.
One sharp vibration in the pit of my bag.
I knew who it was before I pulled it out.
UNKNOWN NUMBER:
You’re not here to make friends. You’re here to keep your mouth shut.
No signature.
But I didn’t need one.
Selene.
Her voice lived inside my bones now. Cold. Controlled. Sliced into everything soft.
I stared at the message for a long moment before putting the phone on silent and shoving it back into my bag. Like I could push her away that easily.
But she always came back.
Always knew the perfect moment to tighten her grip.
