The slap still burned on Rhea's cheek like a brand. It wasn't Prachi's slap, though; that had faded to a dull ache hours ago. This was the memory of her father slapping her when she was twelve. His voice dripped with disgust: "Never let them see you weak."
Sunlight streamed through the gap in the curtains, cutting across the rumpled silk sheets like golden knives. Rhea lay perfectly still.
Her phone vibrated violently against the nightstand. Three short bursts. Tanya's signature.
"You sound like you gargled broken glass," Tanya said when Rhea answered. The champagne bubbles in her voice popped against Rhea's eardrums.
"Your concern is touching."
"I'm at Café Noir. Bring your corpse bride aesthetic. There's something you need to see."
The line died before Rhea could respond. She stared at her reflection in the darkened screen: smudged mascara and chapped lips from biting back words. She was the ghost of the girl who used to wake up hungry.
—
The café smelled of burnt espresso and expensive perfume. Tanya perched at their usual corner table like a crow on a wire, her talons wrapped around an iced latte. Her smirk widened when Rhea's shadow fell across her.
"You look like hell."
"I live there." Rhea's chair screeched against the tile. "Talk."
Tanya leaned forward, the silver charms on her bracelet clinking like tiny bells. "Your little library mouse, Prachi?" There was a pause, heavy with implication. "She came stumbling out of Suyash's private penthouse at dawn. Her hair was a mess, and she was walking as if her thighs had just discovered gravity."
The sugar packet that Rhea was shredding exploded in her fist. Powder rained onto the table like artificial snow.
"You're lying."
"Would I lie about seeing your scholarship charity rival get railed by your one-night stand?" Tanya's grin revealed too many teeth. "She had that freshly fucked glow. You know, that freshly fucked glow when they've been ruined just right."
Rhea's pulse hammered against her temples. She could hear Suyash's voice echoing in her skull—the way he'd whispered "mine" against her throat that first night, his teeth scraping her collarbone. Liar. All of them were liars.
"Where is she now?"
"Probably changing her sheets." Tanya's foot hooked around Rhea's ankle beneath the table. "What are you going to do?"
Rhea stood up so quickly that her knees hit the edge of the table. The pain was clarifying. "What I should've done long ago."
—
The heavy door was already cracked open—a careless mistake or an open invitation. It swung inward soundlessly as Rhea shoved her way into Prachi's suite in the premium wing. The scent hit her first: jasmine shampoo and sex.
Prachi scrambled backward like a startled deer, her textbook thudding to the floor. The collar of her sleepshirt gaped open, revealing a constellation of bruises along her collarbone. Fresh ones.
Rhea's vision tunneled. Those marks should have been hers. That bed should have been hers. That look of terrified defiance—oh, that was new.
"You gutter slut," Rhea hissed. The words tasted like copper. "You spread your legs for him after everything?"
Prachi lifted her chin. There was something different about her—a quiet certainty that hadn't been there before. "I don't owe you any explanations. Or apologies."
Rhea's hand moved before her brain could register it. Her palm cracked against Prachi's cheek with the sound of a gunshot. The recoil traveled up her arm like electricity.
Prachi didn't cry. She didn't cower. She just touched her reddening skin and smiled. "Is that all you've got?"
They crashed into the desk together, a tangle of limbs and rage. Rhea's fingers twisted in Prachi's thick, soft hair—just like Suyash had always preferred—as they grappled. A lamp exploded against the wall. Something warm trickled down Rhea's temple.
Prachi landed the next blow. Her fist connected with Rhea's solar plexus, knocking the air from her lungs in a startled whoosh. They collapsed onto the bed in a gasping heap, their noses inches apart.
"You hit me," Rhea wheezed incredulously.
"You hit first." Prachi wiped blood from her split lip. "But I learned from the best."
Rhea stared at the stranger with Prachi's face—the wild eyes, the heaving chest, and the lingering scent of Suyash on her skin. Something hot and ugly uncoiled in her gut. Not hatred. Not even anger.
Jealousy.
She scrambled upright, her blazer torn at the shoulder seam. "This isn't over."
Prachi sat up slowly, her breath ragged. "No," she agreed. "It's just starting."
Rhea slammed the door hard enough to rattle the frame. Her hands shook as she pressed the elevator button. Behind her, the dorm hallway stretched long and empty, just like her future.
She didn't know what she was going to do next.
But, for the first time in years, she was going to do it for herself.
—
The penthouse smelled of bergamot and betrayal. Suyash stood framed by floor-to-ceiling windows; the city lights twinkled behind him like indifferent stars. He didn't turn when the elevator doors hissed open. He didn't flinch when Rhea's heels clicked across the marble.
"You gave Tanya the code," she said.
"I knew you'd come." His voice was calm. Infuriatingly calm. "Eventually."
Rhea stepped into the light. The black dress clung to her curves like a second skin.
"You slept with her." The words tasted like broken glass. "After everything we—"
"We only had one night, Rhea." He finally turned, his dark eyes unreadable. "You asked for an experience. I gave it to you."
The truth hit me like a slap. They had never been anything more than bodies in the dark.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to claw at his perfect face until it matched the ruin inside her chest. Instead, she sank onto the couch as if her strings had been cut.
"I don't know how to be anything else," she whispered.
Suyash crossed to her in three silent strides. His hands—those elegant, deceitful hands—cupped her face with unbearable gentleness. "Then learn," he murmured against her temple. "Start tomorrow."
She woke alone at dawn. The note on his pillow was simple:
"Start by apologizing. Not to me. To her."
Rhea folded the paper into smaller and smaller squares until it disappeared completely. Outside, the city stirred to life, unaware that, somewhere within its glittering expanse, a girl was learning how to be human again.
She didn't know if she could do it.
But for the first time in her carefully constructed life, she wanted to try.
—
Anita found Suyash reviewing security footage when she slipped into his study unannounced.
"You didn't fuck her," she observed.
"No."
"Interesting choice."
Suyash tapped the frozen image on the screen—Rhea's face in the elevator, raw and unguarded. "She needed something else."
"What?"
"Someone to see her," he said softly. "Really see her."
Anita studied him for a long moment before kissing his forehead. "You're a dangerous man, Suyash Shrivastav."
He smiled at the empty screen. "I know."
Outside, the sun rose over Island—golden and unrelenting—illuminating the wreckage and the possibilities in equal measure.
Somewhere in the Obsidian Tower,, two girls who weren't ready to be women were learning how to stand on their own.