"So, what do you think about this new strategy?" Jane asked, turning her laptop toward me. Her voice was soft, careful, like she was testing the waters.
"Send it to me," I said, taking a quick glance at the screen. "I'll go through it, even though I already know any idea from you is solid. You know who we really have to worry about — John."
Jane laughed, rolling her eyes. "Ugh, John. I swear that man doesn't like change."
"He doesn't hate your work," I said, smiling. "He just likes doing things the same way, even when that way hasn't worked in years."
She laughed again, but there was something nervous about the sound. I could tell something was on her mind. Jane was like that — brilliant, capable, but easy to read when something was bothering her.
"So…" she said slowly, biting her lip. "I wanted to talk to you about something. Not work-related."
"You can always talk to me, Jane," I said, leaning back in my chair. "How many times do I have to tell you that? Sit down, please — you're making me feel like your school principal."
She giggled and took a seat. "Okay, fine. But you'll probably guess what I'm about to say."
"I doubt it. Go on."
She hesitated, then said in a rush, "It's about this girl I met on Tinder."
I smiled, trying not to tease too hard. "Really? Tell me more. Is she cute?"
Jane covered her face, laughing shyly. "Yes! She's very cute. She wants to take me out this weekend."
"You said yes?" I asked, surprised but happy for her.
"Yeah, but now I'm not sure. The place she picked is kind of in a sketchy part of town, and my gut keeps telling me not to go. But she's so sweet, I don't want to cancel."
"Then don't cancel," I said calmly. "But change the location. Tell her you'd feel more comfortable somewhere else. Anyone worth your time will understand that."
Jane's eyes brightened. "Why didn't I think of that?" She smacked her forehead lightly, laughing. "You're seriously a genius."
"I try," I said with a wink.
She came around the desk and gave me a quick hug. "Thanks, Han. I really needed that."
When she left, I smiled faintly. Jane reminded me of a version of myself that felt far away — hopeful, trusting, ready to fall for something new.
---
That evening, I went straight to Maya's place. Her home always felt like a second apartment to me — cozy, warm, full of personality. The faint scent of vanilla candles mixed with the smell of her favorite strawberry ice cream.
We were sitting cross-legged on her living room rug, surrounded by snack wrappers and open tubs of ice cream.
"Austin called," I said out of nowhere.
Maya froze mid-bite. "Wait… what? Why?"
I sighed, pushing a spoon through melting ice cream. "He said Mom's been gambling again."
Maya's eyes widened. "Oh no, not again. Are you serious?"
"Apparently she got arrested. That's what he told me."
"And I'm hearing this now?" she said, her tone half playful, half shocked.
"Sorry," I said quietly. "I've just been trying to process everything."
Maya reached for the bag of chips on the coffee table and opened it. "You know you can always call me, Hannah Banana. Was that the only reason he reached out?"
I hesitated. "No. He said he needed bail money."
Maya gave me a look. "I don't trust that man, and you know why."
"I know," I said softly. "But he said it was for my mom. How was I supposed to say no?"
"Still," she said firmly. "Check on her later, okay? Don't just take his word for it."
"I will," I said, nodding.
To change the topic, I dipped a chip into my ice cream and took a bite.
Maya stared at me, horrified. "You're mixing chips with ice cream?"
I smiled. "Sweet and salty. It's perfect. Don't judge it till you try it."
She laughed, shaking her head. "You're unbelievable."
---
When we finally settled on the couch, Maya leaned back with a sigh. "Okay, now that we're done with your family drama, let's talk about me and Killian."
"Oh dear," I said, bracing myself. "What's going on this time?"
She hesitated. "We decided to try an open relationship."
I blinked. "You did what?"
She fidgeted with her spoon. "He said it would be good for us. That it'll help us grow and trust each other more."
I gave her a look. "And you actually want that?"
"Not really," she admitted softly. "But I didn't want to lose him."
"Maya," I said gently, "you're one of the most beautiful, confident, talented women I know. You don't have to accept less just to keep someone around."
She smiled weakly. "That means a lot, Hannah Banana. But I just… I don't want to lose him."
"Then talk to him," I said. "Tell him the truth. You deserve someone who sees your worth without asking you to share your heart."
She nodded slowly, then whispered, "He brought another girl to the house yesterday. Said he really liked her and wanted her to stay."
I stared at her, stunned. "He said that to your face?"
"Yes," she said, her voice breaking. "I told him no, of course. We argued, and he left. He hasn't answered my calls since."
I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as she tried to keep herself together. "Maya, listen to me. You don't have to change who you are for someone to stay. If he can't see how lucky he is, that's on him — not you."
She sniffled. "You make it sound so easy."
"It's not," I said quietly. "But it's worth it."
We sat there for a long while, just the two of us, sharing silence that said everything words couldn't.
---
Later that night, after I got home, the apartment felt too quiet. I sat on my bed, holding my phone. Maya's words echoed in my head — check on her later.
So I did.
I found my mom's contact and pressed "call."
It rang once. Twice. Three times. Straight to voicemail.
I frowned and tried again. Nothing.
The unease crept in slowly, settling in my chest. I sent her a text.
> Me: Mom, are you okay? Austin said you were in trouble. Please call me.
No response.
I tried calling one last time, whispering a small prayer under my breath. When it went to voicemail again, I just sat there, staring at the wall.
My mother had her flaws, but one thing she'd never done was ignore me completely. Not when I needed her.
That was when the realization began to sink in — something about Austin's story didn't feel right.
His tone, his calmness, the way he ended the call so quickly…
None of it made sense.
I set my phone on the nightstand and lay back, but sleep didn't come. My thoughts raced all night — full of questions, of doubt, of that growing fear I didn't want to name yet.
Because deep down, I knew something wasn't right.
And I was about to find out exactly how wrong it was.