Selena froze, her chest tightening as if Jennette's words had wrapped around her throat like a noose. The café was suddenly too small, too suffocating. The low murmur of other guests clinking cups and chatting felt distant, muffled, as if they were trapped inside a bubble of tension only the three of them could feel.
"Jennette—" Selena began, her voice trembling.
"Don't you Jennette me!" Jennette's voice cracked, splintering through the air, drawing stares from nearby tables. Her hands trembled against the edge of the table, knuckles white, nails digging into her own skin. She shook her head violently, her eyes red, glassy with fury and disbelief. "Do you even understand what you've done to me? To us?"
