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Dove lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, the darkness of her room enveloping her. The only sound was Tara's soft, rhythmic breathing beside her, fast asleep, completely unaware of the storm brewing in Dove's mind. It was 2 a.m., and the quiet stillness of the house was unsettling, amplifying the thoughts racing through Dove's head. Her jaw clenched as she replayed the night over and over again, the image of Tara's tear-streaked face burning in her memory. She had never seen Tara so broken, so completely shattered.
Anger flared in her chest, bubbling up like a fire she couldn't put out. Someone had hurt Tara. Someone had made her feel so humiliated, so exposed, that she'd come to Dove in the middle of the night, her face streaked with silent tears. Dove's fists tightened under the duvet, nails digging into her palms. The thought of Tara crying like that—feeling so vulnerable, so betrayed—sent a wave of fury through her veins.
Dove's stomach twisted at the memory of Tara standing on her doorstep, barely able to speak, tears streaming down her face. Tara was too kind, too gentle to ever retaliate, but Dove... Dove couldn't let it go. The anger simmered hotter, an unshakable weight pressing against her chest. It clawed at her insides, demanding release.
She turned her head slightly, glancing at Tara's peaceful, sleeping form. Even now, curled up beside her, wrapped in Dove's clothes, she looked so delicate. How could anyone want to hurt her? Dove's heart ached with protectiveness, with something far deeper than just friendship.
Her eyes flicked back to the ceiling. She couldn't shake it—this rage. This need to do something. To make sure no one ever hurt Tara like that again.
But then, a sudden ping broke the silence, causing her to tense. The soft light from Tara's phone illuminated the dark space, casting shadows on the walls. Dove froze, her breath catching in her throat.
It wasn't her phone. It wasn't her business.
But curiosity tugged at her. She didn't want to snoop; she shouldn't. But her eyes darted to the glowing screen, drawn to the sudden brightness in the dark. Tara was still fast asleep, completely unaware. Slowly, almost guiltily, Dove turned her head just enough to glance at the lock screen.
Her stomach churned.
A message from Lola.
"Hey, Tara... I'm really sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to upset you, I was drunk... Please don't be mad."
Dove's heart pounded harder as she read the words. Her eyes narrowed, and her breath hitched, fingers twitching under the covers. The message swam in her vision as she connected the dots. Lola had done this. She had hurt Tara, humiliated her, caused those tears that still clung to Dove's memory like a painful reminder.
