Althea had barely survived her latest spiral and was just starting to re-enter the realm of semi-functioning human beings when her phone buzzed. She looked at the screen and genuinely considered hurling it into the nearest body of water.
Unknown caller. Cautiously, she picked up, bracing herself for whatever fresh emotional whiplash awaited her today.
"Hey! It's me, Alaya." She stared at the phone like it had personally betrayed her. Alaya's voice was all soft vowels and effortless grace. "I got your number from Adrian," followed by a soft chuckle. "Are you free today? I was thinking we could go shopping."
Althea blinked. "Shopping. As in… together?"
"Yeah! I have to pick something for this godawful brunch event and figured — why not suffer together?"
Althea glanced at her reflection. She looked like someone who had lost an emotional bar fight and then slept in her eyeliner. "Are you... sure you meant to call me?"
"I meant to. Unless you're secretly my dentist, in which case this is a really weird professional boundary to cross."
Althea snorted. "You're very casual about inviting your emotional support nemesis on a retail date."
"You brought a cupcake to a confrontation," Alaya said. "I feel like we're past the nemesis phase."
Touché.
Althea found herself standing outside a store that looked like it would call security on her for breathing too loudly. The mannequins wore outfits that screamed I own a yacht but I'm humble about it, and everything smelled like jasmine, cashmere, and generational wealth. Alaya emerged from a black car like a damn Bond girl. Even in jeans and a top, she looked like the kind of person whose cardigan probably cost more than Althea's semester tuition.
"You came!" Alaya beamed.
"You said there'd be suffering. I show up for that."
Alaya laughed and linked arms with her. "Let's go cause economic damage."
They stepped inside, and immediately Althea regretted not brushing her hair for more than three seconds. A sales assistant materialized beside them like she'd been summoned by the scent of gold cards and unresolved mother issues.
"Can I help you find anything today?" the woman asked, eyeing Althea's sneakers with the quiet judgment of someone who ironed her socks.
"Yes," Alaya said smoothly. "I need something for a brunch. Elegant but not boring. I want to look like I might own a media empire, but also have a soft spot for cats."
The assistant nodded like that made sense. "Right this way."
Althea trailed behind, whispering, "That's… a very specific vibe."
"I like to give direction."
Within minutes, Alaya was buried in a mountain of designer clothes. Silk, satin, linen, cotton, and fabrics that probably had names Althea couldn't pronounce.
Althea sat on the plush velvet bench like a broke little goblin in exile, holding onto her handbag for life and contemplating whether the price tag on a single blouse could be exchanged for emotional validation.
Then, Alaya stepped out of the dressing room.
Althea blinked. "You look like a Vogue cover came to life and started judging me for my poor posture."
Alaya grinned. "Perfect. Now you try."
Althea's soul left her body. "Me?"
"You're not getting out of here without trying at least three outfits," Alaya said sweetly, then added with a smirk: "Or I'll tell Max you cried during The Princess Diaries 2."
Althea's face went blank. "Why Max!"
"Try the dress, Mia Thermopolis."
Althea emerged from the changing room five minutes later in a dress that made her look like she'd been invited to an award show for emotionally wounded debutantes.
Alaya's eyes lit up. "Oh. My. God."
"What?" Althea tugged at the sleeves. "Is it bad? Do I look like a napkin from Buckingham Palace?"
"You look like you could marry royalty, then start a scandal, then leave him and become a UN ambassador."
Althea stared at her reflection. "Thats..."
Alaya came up beside her. "You're beautiful, you know."
Althea rolled her eyes. "Stop trying to romance me. I already have trust issues."
They burst out laughing — sharp, real laughter that bounced off the crystal chandeliers and made the sales assistant blink.
They tried on more outfits. Alaya wore a power suit that made her look like she could assassinate billionaires with a single eyebrow raise. Althea wore a jumpsuit so soft it felt like sin. They debated over heels, tried sunglasses they couldn't afford, and critiqued each other like they were in a reality show.
Althea: "You look like you poisoned your fourth husband."
Alaya: "And you look like you just got acquitted for insider trading."
Althea: "I told them the offshore account was a gift!"
By the time they emerged, shopping bags in hand, Althea's cheeks hurt from laughing and her stomach ached from pretending she hadn't just emotionally bonded with the one person she never planned to like.
They sat on a café patio, sipping overpriced iced coffee with gold flakes (why?) and sharing a slice of cake that neither of them had the emotional stability to resist.
"You know," Alaya said, licking a fork, "for someone who didn't want to be here, you've had more fun than anyone should legally be allowed to have."
"I was tricked," Althea said. "Lured in with emotional bait and luxury linen."
Alaya gave her a quiet smile. "Thank you. For not hating me. For giving this a chance."
Althea paused. "I still don't know what we are."
"Neither do I," Alaya admitted. "But I think… we're not enemies." Althea nodded. "Allies. In mutual emotional damage."
The afternoon light had mellowed into that soft, expensive-looking gold that made everything, even existential crises feel cinematic. Around them, the cafe was a curated daydream of minimalist cutlery, uncomfortable designer chairs, and patrons who probably paid someone else to worry for them.
Althea leaned back, her legs crossed at the ankle, a little dazed from the last two hours of pure chaos wrapped in silk and laughter.
Her fingers absently traced the edge of her coffee glass, still glittering with pointless but dazzling gold flakes. "Okay," she said finally. "I have to admit something."
Alaya looked up from demolishing the last bite of cake. "Is this a confession? Because I've been waiting for one."
Althea smirked. "You're not the devil." Alaya placed a hand on her chest, mock-gasping. "Wow. This is like when Regina George complimented Cady's bracelet. I'm honored."
"I'm serious," Althea said with a chuckle. "I… get it now. Why Adrian fell for you."
That stopped Alaya mid-sip. She looked at Althea carefully, the joking tone slipping just enough to let the real person peek through.
"Is that your way of saying you forgive me for existing?"
"No," Althea said. "It's my way of saying you're… not what I expected. At all."
"And what did you expect?"
Althea tilted her head, pretending to consider. "Someone who cries when their manicure chips. Who treats other girls like competition. Who says stuff like 'no offense' and then immediately offends you." Alaya winced. "Wow. That's… specific."
"You were very easy to villainize," Althea admitted, looking at the half-empty plate between them. "You had everything. You were the girl. The one everyone warned me about — not because you were evil, but because you were inevitable."
Alaya was quiet for a moment, twirling her straw. Then she said softly, "It's exhausting, being inevitable." Althea blinked. "What?"
Alaya didn't look at her. She was watching the light catch the edge of her glass. "Everyone thinks it's easy. Being the one with the perfect smile, the polished life. But the truth is, I don't get to have rough edges. I don't get to be messy. My parents prayed for a daughter after two sons. I was supposed to be the miracle. So now I have to be the miracle. Every damn day."
Althea just watched her, suddenly very still.
"I have to be elegant, but not cold. Smart, but not threatening. Ambitious, but in a way that doesn't make anyone uncomfortable. I have to smile when my uncles tell me to 'marry rich and settle down,' even though I want to start my own business and scream into the void half the time." She let out a dry laugh. "Do you know how many times I've heard 'you'll make a lovely wife someday' and wanted to punch a wall?"
Althea's voice was quieter now. "So punch it." Alaya turned to look at her.
"You're not porcelain," Althea said. "You don't have to break in silence."
For a moment, Alaya just stared at her — like she was recalibrating. Then she leaned forward with a slow smile. "Okay, that was poetic. You write that down somewhere?" Althea smirked. "That definitely did sound cool."
A beat.
"God," Alaya said, sitting back, eyes soft but bright. "You're not what I expected either." Althea quirked a brow. "Let me guess. You thought I'd be bitter and brooding, trying to win Adrian back with sad playlists and bad decisions."
"That, and I assumed you'd hate me on sight and throw your coffee at me."
"Please. Do you know how expensive this coffee is? I could use it to pay rent in certain countries."
They both laughed — real, unguarded laughter. It echoed across the patio and made a pigeon nearby flap away in protest. Then, quieter, Alaya added, "You're funny. And warm. And honestly? Way too cool to be crying over some boy."
Althea narrowed her eyes. "If you're about to say I deserve better, I might actually leave."
"No, I was going to say… maybe I deserved better too."
That startled Althea into silence. The breeze shifted slightly, tugging at the hem of her sleeve like it wanted her to say something.
"You know what's the weirdest part?" Althea said, after a while. "I think we could've been friends. If things had gone differently."
Alaya smiled, gentle and a little sad. "They didn't. But maybe… they still can." Althea stared at her for a long second, then held out her fork. "Truce?"
Alaya clinked her own against it. "Emotional damage alliance. Activated."
They burst into another fit of giggles, somewhere between grief and release, as the city moved on around them — never knowing two almost-rivals had just declared peace over cake crumbs and shared scars. And for the first time in a while, Althea didn't feel like she was watching life through a window.
She felt… in it. Confused. Overdressed. Emotionally unstable. But in it.
End of chapter 12.