Twisted Ties

Chapter 1

~Park Y/N~

I went to the female restroom and fumbled for my phone, my hands still shaky from the remnants of last night's decisions. As I scrolled through my contacts, Jennie's name appeared like a lifeline. I pressed her number, not really thinking about the hour or how many other times I had called her like this—half lost, half hungover.

She picked up almost instantly, her voice silent on the other end except for the faint sound of music playing in the background. No, hello, no questions. Jennie never asked. She never needed to. She was always just there, waiting for me to reach out when I needed her.

"Hey..." I began, my voice hoarse, and cleared my throat. "Can you pick me up? I need a ride home."

For a moment, there was nothing but the soft hum of the other side of the line, then a small sound, like a quiet nod that I could picture even though I wasn't there to see it. Jennie's silence wasn't awkward—it was her way of agreeing, of saying yes without the hassle of words. She never pried, never asked for details. She knew enough about the nights I had, enough to understand why I called without explanation.

I told her the street name, rattling off a number on a block I didn't recognize, then hung up and made my way outside. The early morning light was just beginning to stretch across the city, casting a gray-blue hue over the streets, the kind of light that feels almost cold, reminding you that the night is gone and reality is creeping back in.

I stood on the curb, arms wrapped around myself in the chilly breeze, waiting for Jennie. My dress suddenly felt too tight, too revealing, the thrill it gave me last night, now replaced by the uncomfortable weight of regret. It was strange how everything felt different in the light of day—the people, the places, even myself.

Cars passed by in slow waves, the city still quiet from the aftermath of a Saturday night. I stared at the pavement, trying not to think too much, trying not to let the growing pit in my stomach consume me. I just wanted to get home, wash off last night, and crawl back into my own bed where I could hide from everything.

After what felt like an eternity, Jennie's familiar black sedan pulled up to the curb. I opened the door, sliding into the passenger seat, the warmth inside the car, a welcome contrast to the biting air outside.

Jennie glanced at me briefly, her eyes flicking over my disheveled appearance before turning back to the road. She didn't say a word, just like always. She didn't need to.

"Thanks," I muttered, sinking into the seat and pulling my legs up, curling them under me. I rested my head against the window as the car started to move, watching the buildings blur by. My thoughts swirled, but none of them landed long enough for me to grasp onto.

Jennie, with her ever-present calm, kept her eyes on the road, her fingers lightly tapping the steering wheel in time with the soft beat of the music playing in the background. She didn't push. She never did. Maybe that's why I called her every time—because she just understood. I could always rely on her silence, her quiet presence that never judged, never demanded an explanation.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the steady hum of the car soothe me. But even in the comfort of Jennie's silence, the same question gnawed at the back of my mind. 

How much longer could I keep doing this?

The question hung there, unanswered, as we drove through the slowly waking city.

The sky was still streaked with soft hues of dawn by the time Jennie dropped me off in front of my apartment. I muttered a tired thank you as I stepped out of the car, her usual silence serving as a quiet affirmation that she'd be there the next time I needed her. I made my way up to my place, slipping out of my heels the moment I crossed the threshold and tossing my crumpled dress onto a nearby chair.