Chapter 3

3.

I was just finishing a bowl of noodles when Winslow finally came home.

Seeing me sitting there so calmly seemed to agitate him.

He pressed his lips together and looked at me with annoyance. "I told you to wait at the shop. Why didn't you? You didn't even send a text. I went there for nothing."

I took a sip of the hot soup, not even looking up. "Was there any point in telling you?"

My coldness seemed to spark a flicker of frustration in his eyes.

He sat across from me at the table, crossing his arms as he watched me.

After a long silence, he spoke. "I've always been the one to buy Bianca's pajamas. She can't sleep if I don't pick them out."

"I didn't lie about the overtime to hurt you. I just didn't want to ruin our special day by starting a fight."

I let out a small, forced smile at his pathetic explanation.

Winslow looked surprised that I wasn't screaming or crying like I usually did.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but I cut him off.

"I know, Winslow. You're just good friends."

"If there was anything else going on, I wouldn't even be here, right?"

I didn't expect those words to set him off.

He suddenly exploded, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Sonya! Enough with the sarcasm!"

I looked at him, genuinely confused.

I was only repeating his own words back to him. If he thought it sounded like sarcasm, that was his own guilt talking.

But I wasn't being sarcastic. I was just done.

I looked into his eyes, and he quickly looked away, looking a bit guilty.

Just then, Bianca walked in. She draped herself over Winslow's arm, her chest pressed firmly against his shoulder.

She shot me a look of pure disdain, as if I were the one being unreasonable.

She reached up and pinched Winslow's ear playfully. Seeing their intimacy made my stomach turn with genuine disgust.

Bianca looked at me and sighed. "Sonya, the company is about to go public. We're all under a lot of pressure. Winslow carved out time for this silly engagement just to make you feel secure. Can't you be grateful?"

"If you're upset about the pajamas, just say it. Why do you have to act like such a child?"

I tuned out her lecture. My eyes were fixed on her pale neck, where a bright, unmistakable hickey sat.

Then I looked at Winslow. There was a matching mark on his throat.

They both looked flushed, and the way they looked at each other was sickeningly sweet.

Everything clicked. It wasn't just suspicion anymore; it was the ugly truth.

I interrupted her mid-sentence, my voice flat. "What kind of friends pick out each other's underwear? And what kind of friends sleep together?"

Winslow's face turned purple with rage. He grabbed my bowl of noodles and threw it at me.

I tried to block it, but the boiling liquid splashed across my chest and arms.

A searing pain erupted across my skin instantly.

Seeing me drenched and hurt, a flash of regret crossed Winslow's face for a split second.

But Bianca spoke up first. "Sonya, if you really hate me that much, I'll just leave."

"But I have to wait until after the IPO. I can't let Winslow handle all that stress by himself."

Winslow's regret vanished, replaced by a look of pure loathing. He turned to me and growled, "Why can't you be mature for once? Why can't you be more like Bianca?"