Lunch was served in the courtyard under a white tent, long tables lined with salads, wraps, and chilled lemon water. The air buzzed with nervous laughter and the clink of cutlery. Everyone was sizing each other up — who looked the part, who belonged, who was just here because of money.
I stood near the edge, a plate in hand, not hungry, just going through the motions.
And then I saw her.
Serena.
Already at a central table, surrounded.
Laughter rippling around her like she'd planned it.
Her dress was designer, her hair perfect, her nails glossy and long.
She caught my eye and waved — bright, warm, like we were inseparable.
"Ev! Over here!"
I walked over.
Didn't rush.
Didn't smile too wide.
Just took the empty seat beside her.
"You're sitting with us?" one of the girls asked, glancing at my face, then my outfit — like they were checking if I matched.
"Of course," Serena said, patting my arm. "Evelyn and I go way back. She's like family."
The words were sweet.
The delivery, flawless.
But the message?
I'm allowing you to sit here.
Don't forget your place.
I didn't react.
Just sipped my water and watched.
She turned to me, all innocence. "Oh! I was just about to get food, but my phone's dying. Could you grab me something? Just a kale salad, no dressing. And a sparkling water, lime on the side?"
She didn't say "Please."
Didn't say "If you don't mind."
Just looked at me like it was natural.
Like I was there to serve.
And I remembered.
Not just the words.
The moment.
From the future.
Same day.
Same tent.
Same kale salad.
I'd gotten it for her.
Brought it back.
She'd taken a bite, wrinkled her nose, and said, "They forgot the lemon. Could you go back?"
I had.
Twice.
Smiling the whole time.
Like it was nothing.
Like I wasn't a student.
Like I was her assistant.
And later, she'd posted a photo:
"my half sister's first day at Parsons💕"
Captioned: "Some people are just meant to be together."
I'd liked it.
Commented: "Love you!"
While she whispered to Julian: "She's so easy to use."
Now?
Now I sat there.
Plate in hand.
Water in the other.
And I looked at her.
Not with anger.
Not with shame.
But with clarity.
"What happened to your hands?" I asked.
Calm.
Quiet.
Like I was just curious.
She blinked. "What?"
"Your fingers," I said, tilting my head slightly. "They look… different. Smoother. Longer. Did you do something?"
For a heartbeat, she froze.
And I saw it.
The crack in the mask.
Because she hadn't told anyone.
Not yet.
In the future, she'd get the minor surgery — tendon release, subtle fillers — to make her fingers look "more elegant for photos."
She'd say it was for "joint pain."
No one believed her.
But no one questioned it.
And now?
Now I was mentioning it before it happened.
Like I knew.
Like I'd seen her lie.
Her smile tightened — just slightly.
Her fingers curled into her palm.
"Oh, you know," she said, forcing a laugh. "Just been careful with what i do with them lately. You should be careful too with your hands."
"Must be working," I said, voice gentle. "They look… refined."
Another crack.
The girls around us shifted, sensing the tension but not understanding it.
One glanced at Serena's hands.
Then at me.
Serena changed the subject fast. "Anyway, I'm so excited for class! I heard Professor Lang picks protégés from first-year students. Maybe you'll get picked, Ev."
The way she said you'll — like it was a joke.
Like I didn't belong.
I didn't rise to it.
Didn't defend myself.
Just looked at her — really looked — and said, "You didn't answer my question."
She forced a smile. "I told you. Yoga."
"Okay," I said.
Just okay.
No challenge.
No smirk.
Just acceptance — so calm it hurt.
Because she knew.
I knew.
And I wasn't afraid.
I picked up my plate.
Stood.
Didn't offer to get her food.
Didn't apologize.
Didn't explain.
I just walked away.
And behind me, I felt it — the weight of her stare.
Not superiority.
Not control.
But fear.
Because for the first time,
the girl she used to humiliate was no more.
But it wasn't a loud declaration,
It was a quiet war yet fooled with smiles and pretence,
That could only be understood by both of them.
To Serena, Evelyn was just a puppet.
To Evelyn, Serena was just the person that will eventually take her fate.
It is just a matter of time.
And she is going to make sure that the game unfolds very well.