Eliana's POV
"Finally..." Sophia said, as she stretched her arms dramatically, her heels dangling from one hand. "I swear my feet are filing for divorce."
We're finally out of the club and ready to go home.
"You're the one who said 'pain is beauty, remember?'" Juliette laughed softly, tugging her coat tighter.
"And beauty is overrated." Sophia shot back. "You know what's not overrated? Comfort." She waved down a cab like she was summoning it by force of will.
"You could've worn flats." I shook my head, smiling.
"And deprive humanity of this view?" she gestured to her legs. "Absolutely not."
Juliette rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. I could see that faint spark in her eyes that hadn't been there earlier. The awkwardness of seeing Zara again — it has completely faded into something lighter.
We piled into the cab, Sophia immediately claiming the window seat and resting her head dramatically against the glass.
"Driver, take us to the nearest sanctuary with food." She said.
"Just take us to Maple Street, please." I said, leaning forward. "Sanctuary with food is my kitchen." I added, looking at Sophia.
"That's generous." Juliette snorted. "Last time I checked, your fridge had expired yogurt and one lonely tomato."
"That tomato had personality." I said, riding in on her joke. "He had a name."
"What was his name? Regret?" Sophia chuckled, eyes half-closed.
"Harold." I corrected, deadpan.
That made both of them laugh out loud.
By the time we got home, it was 2:54 AM.
My house greeted us like an old friend. We stumbled in like weary travelers returning from war. Sophia threw her bag on the couch; Juliette made a beeline for the kitchen.
"I need food!" she announced, already rummaging through my fridge. "Oh, miracle of miracles— you actually have leftovers."
"Told you Harold had friends." I grinned, kicking off my heels and sighing with the relief of bare feet on cool tiles.
"If it's not edible or caffeinated, I don't want to hear about it." Sophia groaned, sprawling across the couch.
"Pizza from yesterday." Juliette said, holding up a box. "Still good. Maybe."
"That's the spirit." I said, fetching plates.
They joined me in the kitchen, all of us still half-dressed from the night: glitter clinging to our skin, eyeliner smudged, hair undone by hours of dancing. We looked like the after-version of a glamorous movie scene, the unfiltered part the credits never show.
Sophia unclipped her bra, then with zero ceremony, took it off entirely and tossed it onto the counter.
"Freedom!" she declared.
I burst into laughter staring at her n**ples.
"Oh my God, Sophie—"
"What? We're all girls!" she said, stretching dramatically, chest unapologetically bare. "You have no idea how good this feels."
Juliette choked on her pizza slice.
"I can't unsee that." She said, coughing.
"You're welcome." Sophia gave her a smug grin.
The kitchen was filled with our laughter. It was soft and chaotic at the same time. That was Sophia's magic: she could turn awkwardness into comedy and sadness into mischief at any time.
"You're really something else." Juliette shook her head, cheeks pink but smiling.
"Thank you. It's a lifestyle." Sophia said, sliding onto a stool and stealing Juliette's slice.
I leaned against the counter, watching them both, smiling.
At some point, we migrated from the kitchen to the living room— plates in hand. We sat cross-legged on the rug, surrounded by the remains of midnight snacks. And Sophia played music from her phone, the 3 of us humming and singing along.
"You know what's weird?" Juliette said, leaning back on her hands, eyes on the ceiling.
"What?" I asked.
"How nights like this feel… normal. Like everything else doesn't matter for a bit." She answered.
"Yeah. It's like hitting pause." I nodded slowly.
"That's because you're with people who get it." Sophia yawned, curling up on the couch now. "Just food, freedom, and a little bit of Sophia." She bragged.
"You should trademark that." I said, shaking my head.
"Already did." she mumbled, half-asleep.
Juliette and I laughed quietly to ourselves.
By 3:20 AM, Sophia had gone from tipsy philosopher to sprawled-out chaos — lying sideways on the couch, one arm dangling, muttering nonsense about how she deserved a national holiday for surviving heels.
Juliette and I stayed on the rug, talking in quiet voices
"So…" I said lightly, tracing circles on the floor. "Zara, huh?"
"Don't start." Juliette sighed, running a hand through her hair.
"I'm not starting." I said. "Just... mentioning the obvious."
"She's…" Juliette hesitated, a small smile tugging at her lips. "She's nice."
"Nice." I repeated teasingly. "That's the word you're going with?"
Juliette threw a cushion at me, trying to get me to change the subject.
"It's weird, though. I didn't expect to see her again. She had said she was quitting so I figured she would no longer be there." She laughed softly, shaking her head.
"Maybe that's the universe giving you a second chance."
"Or testing me." she said, half-smiling. "I don't know which."
"Sometimes it's both." I said. "The test and the gift come in the same wrapping."
She stared at me for a bit before responding.
"That's actually… kind of deep." She said.
"I've had two slices of pizza and a revelation." I said. "Don't question my wisdom."
Juliette chuckled softly and genuinely, then she leaned back, closing her eyes.
"You think we're doing okay? Like… life, in general." She asked.
I thought about her question for a bit: about the club, about Asa, about us— three women trying to stitch meaning into chaos.
"I think we're surviving beautifully." I said finally. "And that's more than okay."
I finally dragged myself off the floor at a short while. The others were half-asleep— Sophia snoring softly and Juliette scrolling aimlessly through her phone with one eye open.
I reached for my own phone on the table, realizing I hadn't touched it since the club. It was still on silent since I'd been with Asa at the back of the club.
Four missed calls.
All from Mom.
"Oh, crap." My stomach dropped.
"What's wrong?" Juliette stirred.
"Mom called. Four times."
Sophia, still barely awake, muttered: "Tell her you joined a cult. She'll stop calling."
I let out a soft laugh, ignoring her, and then opened the messages.
One unread text.
Mom: "Eli, where did you drop your phone? We're in town. We're coming to see you tomorrow morning. Be ready."
I blinked at the screen for a moment. Tomorrow morning... which meant— technically, today.
"They're coming here. Today." I groaned, dropping my head back against the couch.
"Wait— your parents?" Juliette sat up instantly.
"Yup."
"Did she say what time?" She asked.
"Nope but probably early." I said, dread creeping in. "And by early I mean 7 am. My mom doesn't believe in normal visiting hours. To her, 7 am is casual."
I sighed, already mentally scanning the apartment: dishes everywhere, makeup scattered, three half-naked women lounging in chaos. Fantastic.
"We'll help you clean up. It won't take long." Juliette stood, stretching.
"You're a saint." I smiled tiredly.
30 minutes later, Juliette and I had put things in order and we fell asleep before we knew it.
Everything was in perfect order— except for Sophia, laying casually on the couch with her breast hanging free for the world to see, pushing aside the throw-blanket I had given her.