“Put it on me,” she said.

She draped her hand over his arm with practiced ease, her nails trailing along the inside of his forearm. It was an intimate gesture.

Naomi's skin had always been fair, and the bracelet only made it look creamier, more flawless.

Then Tristram reached over and opened the box in front of me.

“Let me put yours on too,” he said.

He picked up the earring inside and brought it toward my earlobe. Only up close did he realize I didn't have a single piercing.

His hand froze.

I looked at the earring pinched between his fingers. Such a tiny thing.

The bracelet, same brand, cost five times as much.

This was what Tristram called fair.

One look from him, and Naomi rose and clamped down on my hands.

“Ellie, hold still,” she said.

Tristram aimed the sharp post at my earlobe, as if he actually meant to force it straight through.

“I've seen other people pierce ears like this. I'll do it fast, it won't hurt, I promise.”

I thrashed like mad. “Let go of me!”

In the struggle, Tristram's grip slipped and the earring dropped, rolling off into a corner.

The place was packed, and it ended up kicked away somewhere no one could see.

I pushed back my chair and stood, my face burning red.

“You two eat. I'm leaving,” I said.

The dinner broke up on a sour note.

That night, lying in bed, I opened that shared-account post again.

Through her profile picture, I went to Naomi's page.

There were two shared accounts.

One was the three of us. The other was hers and Tristram's.

It was called Naomi & Tris Forever, and there was still thirty thousand left in it.

Tapping in, I could see every post she'd made.

While I was pulling day-and-night shifts at the company, run so ragged my feet barely touched the ground.

She and Tristram had gone to the amusement park together, seen the movie I'd wanted to see for ages, eaten at all kinds of restaurants.

Behind every expense, a photo of the two of them.

It was a full-blown relationship scrapbook.

When I scrolled to April twenty-fourth, there was an expense of fifty-two hundred.

The note said: Day One.

I remembered that day.

Because that was the day I collapsed at my desk, after four straight days on four hours of sleep.

When I came to in the ER, my first instinct was to call Tristram.

It rang and rang. No one picked up.

So I texted Naomi.

I waited forever. The message thread stayed empty.

So that day, with my money in their hands, they'd been busy celebrating Day One of something new.

Like some form of self-torture, I scrolled all the way to the bottom, tears sliding from the corners of my eyes into the pillow.

The next day was the weekend, and I started clearing out the things in my apartment.

I'd be leaving for Southport the following week. Time was tight.

To be closer to the company, I'd rented the place myself.

It was small, only big enough for one person.

It was crammed full of my things.

The toilet leaked, the walls were spotted with mold, and there wasn't even any air conditioning.

The one good thing was that the rent was cheap enough.

The first time Tristram and Naomi came over, they'd flatly refused to step inside, planting themselves at the door.

“What kind of dump is this? Fit for rats,” they'd said.

My hands had stilled over my things back then, and I'd gone red from my ears down my neck, hot with shame.

I opened the cabinet and dug out some of the old things.

The couple's outfit Tristram and I had bought, the embroidery on the chest faded now.

The ceramic mug Naomi and I had made together, a crack running along the bottom that I hadn't noticed until who knows when.

I found a big bag, packed all of it inside, tied it shut, and tossed it into the trash room.

The moment the bag left my hand, I felt lighter than I ever had.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Along with the confirmation that my plane ticket had gone through came a message from my mother.

"Does Tristram know about you going to Southport?"

I typed with my head down.

"Not yet."

There was a pause on her end, then a location pin came through.

"Your dad and I set up a dinner with the Hensons tomorrow night. All of us together."

"Did you and Tristram have a fight? Whatever's going on between you two, work it out face to face. Don't bottle it up."

I agreed.

Everything had to come to an end sometime, and it had to be done in person.

When I got back, Naomi was standing at my door, a cake box in her hand.

The second I opened the door, she squeezed her way in behind me.

She set down what she was carrying and looked around the place.

"Why's it suddenly so empty in here?"

I tossed the last bit of clutter into the trash and didn't pour her a glass of water the way I usually did.

"Had some free time, so I cleaned up a little."

She opened the box on the table, revealing the cake inside.

Only half of it was left.

"You left in such a hurry yesterday, you never even got to try the cake."

The workmanship was rough. One look and you could tell it was homemade.

There was a crooked letter J written on top, and though the other half had been cut away, it wasn't hard to make out half of an S.

Naomi cut a slice and handed it to me.

"Go on, taste it. I baked it myself."

"Tristram said it was delicious."

I took a small bite. The frosting was so sweet it turned bitter.

Tristram had never touched sweets like this before. He always said they were for silly little girls, beneath a man of his taste.

In the silence, Naomi lowered her eyes, her voice trembling a little.

"Ellie, I'm pregnant."

It hit me like a hammer coming down hard, and my mind went blank.

The fork slipped from my hand and clattered into the plate.

I could barely keep my expression under control.

"Whose is it?"

Naomi buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled.

"My boyfriend's."

Cold-faced, I dumped the rest of the cake into the trash.

"When did you two get together? Why didn't you tell me right away?"

"I wanted to wait until things were more settled before saying anything. One thing led to another, and here we are."

She took my hand and pulled me down to sit beside her.

"Next time I'll get him to come out and eat with us, so you two can meet."

"Do you think…"

She hesitated.

"Should I keep the baby?"

I pulled my hand out of her grip. I had no idea what Naomi was getting at.

Coming to me, carrying Tristram's child, to ask that question. Was it a provocation, or was she trying to corner me?

"Something this big, you have to decide for yourself."

I said it openly enough, but a thread of bitterness leaked out of me, beyond my control.

Naomi gave a small laugh.

"You're right. I'm just impatient, that's all. I wanted to hear what you thought."

"But I have a feeling I'll have my answer by tonight."

The door shut behind her, and I threw myself back onto the bed.

I closed my eyes, and everything from the past few days flickered through my mind.

That evening, I went to the restaurant at the appointed time.

The elevator doors slid shut, showing my face in the mirror, drawn and tired in a way no makeup could hide.

When I walked into the private room, Mr. and Mrs. Swanson Henson were already seated inside.

I greeted each of them.

Mrs. Henson glanced at me and lifted her chin slightly, which passed for a response.

When her eyes landed on my clothes, washed pale from too many cycles, she frowned.

"Tristram mentioned your salary isn't very high. Now that I see you today, I can tell it's true."

"Can't even afford a single decent outfit."

She turned her wrist, letting the jade bracelet on it slip into view as if by accident.

"Tristram bought this for me. Cost him a small fortune."

She said it dripping with superiority, though the green of the jade on her wrist was cheap and dull.

It was a good while before Tristram finally sauntered in.

Mrs. Henson was still going.

"Even for a woman, you have to be ambitious at work. You can't be lazy."

I lifted my eyes to Tristram, the impatience in them barely held down.

He picked up a bite of food with his chopsticks and set it in his mother's bowl.

"Mom, ease up."

Mrs. Henson let out a hard huff and shut her mouth, but her eyelids flicked upward, fast and scornful.

Tristram turned to look at me instead.

"Honestly, my mom's not wrong."

"Ellie, your salary really does need to come up. Otherwise, down the line, our living expenses aren't going to stretch far enough."

I shot him a stunned look, the knuckles gripping my glass going white.

Anyone else had the right to say that. Tristram didn't.

For a whole year I'd broken my back at the company while he lived it up out there.

I set the glass down with a hard clunk.

I was about to say something when my father caught my wrist.

He rose to his feet, glass in hand, forcing a smile onto his face.

"The two families got together tonight mainly to talk over Ellie and Tristram's situation."

"Her mother and I were thinking we'd settle the engagement now, while we can, and once Ellie comes back from—"

Before he could finish, Mrs. Henson spat out a mouthful of tea leaves, loud, and followed it with several sharp, disgusted pehs.

Tristram just kept his head down, tapping at his phone. He probably hadn't caught a single word.

The air froze solid. My father stood there, his face red as if he'd been slapped.

The Hensons' stance was clear enough already.

For now, they weren't for it.

I took the glass from him and eased my father back into his seat.

I opened up the bill, then tossed my phone onto the table.

I was just about to speak when Tristram abruptly stood.

His chair scraped fast across the floor, letting out a shrill, grating screech.

Everyone looked up at him.

"We'll talk about the engagement later. Something urgent's come up. I have to go."

He threw on his coat and turned to leave.

At the same moment, my phone buzzed.

I saw what had popped up on the screen.

My pupils shrank all at once, my fingertips trembling slightly.