smudged, hair slightly out of place, clutching her phone like a lifeline.
No backup.
No audience.
Just us.
“Olivia,” she said, voice low, not angry, not yelling. Something worse, small. “Can we talk?”
I stepped into the hallway and pulled the door mostly closed behind me, leaving a small crack so I could still hear the faint noise from my party.
My world.
“About what?” I asked. “About how I ruined your Christmas?”
She winced.
“You didn’t ruin it,” she said. “You ruined mine.”
“No,” I corrected. “I stopped pretending
