Emma lay awake long after Ethan had fallen asleep beside her. His words echoed in her mind, but they brought no comfort. Trust. How could she trust what felt so wrong?
The next morning, the sun poured through the blinds, casting golden bars across the bedroom floor. Emma sat on the edge of the bed, watching the dust dance in the light, her thoughts heavy and tangled.
At work, she barely made it through the day. Her productivity dipped, her patience wore thin. She avoided the café, afraid of seeing Lily, afraid of the truth she might find in those easy smiles.
It was Lily who broke the silence first.
"Emma," she said one afternoon, catching her by the office kitchen. "Can we talk?"
Emma stiffened but nodded. "Sure."
They found a quiet corner in the courtyard, under the sycamore tree that had once been their favorite lunchtime retreat. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"I feel like you're mad at me," Lily finally said, her voice quiet but steady. "Did I do something?"
Emma looked away, heart pounding. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe it's not you. Maybe it's just… everything."
Lily took a breath. "Is it about Ethan?"
Emma nodded, the weight of unspoken pain pressing against her throat. "You're always around him. Laughing, whispering. It's hard not to feel like I'm on the outside."
Lily looked hurt. "I never meant to make you feel that way. Ethan and I… we've been friends forever, but I would never come between you two."
Emma's eyes stung. "Then why does it feel like you already have?"
Lily reached out, gently touching her arm. "Because you're scared. And maybe because you don't trust either of us right now. But Emma, I love you. As a friend. And I want you to be happy—with Ethan."
Emma bit her lip. She wanted to believe her. She really did.
"I just need space," she said finally. "To figure things out."
Lily nodded. "Take all the time you need. I'll be here when you're ready."
As Lily walked away, Emma sat back against the tree, eyes closed. The ache was still there, but something inside her had begun to shift. Not forgiveness. Not yet. But maybe the first trace of clarity.