A goodbye never said

Chapter 7

Monica's pov

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I would've never guessed that I'd spend my Friday afternoon trying to get ready for a party hosted by Maya. Why did she even invite us? Maybe Michael—Melissa's best friend—invited us without telling her. I don't know Michael properly yet, but he seems really nice, though I really don't get why he is dating such a... brat. Drama aside, all the girls are in my room, ready for the party in an hour, Michael's gonna join us soon.

When Michael arrives, we're already trying to figure out how we're going to handle the evening. Melissa's pretending she doesn't care, but I can tell this whole "Michael dating Maya" thing is bugging her more than she lets on. Not because she likes Michael or anything—gross—but because watching your best friend date someone who's so annoying is like watching a slow-motion car crash. It doesn't help that Michael is, as usual, completely oblivious.

Michael grinned like he was about to drop another one of his brilliant jokes. I braced myself.

"Denmark's so flat, the highest point is probably someone's raised eyebrow when you say you like their weather," Michael says with a grin, like it's the funniest thing ever.

I chuckle despite myself. Classic Michael, always trying to lighten the mood with a dumb joke. Nicole bursts out laughing, and even Melissa cracks a smile, though she's quick to roll her eyes and act unimpressed. I can tell she's holding back a laugh.

"Is that your way of avoiding the topic?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Because I'm pretty sure we all know why you're actually here."

Michael shrugs, playing it cool. "What, can't a guy just come visit his favorite girls without getting interrogated?"

Nicole snorts. "Nice try, but we know you're here for Maya."

Sophie leans in, her eyes twinkling. "So... what's the plan for this party? Are we going to watch the drama unfold or stir some of it up ourselves?"

I grin. "Why choose? We can do both."

Celine, who's chilling on a beanbag, sighs dramatically. "I'm really considering going in a hoodie and sweatpants," she says, eyeing the pile of clothes on my bed. "But I don't really wanna get judged by the 'popular girls' in your class."

'If you want to, just do it' Melissa looks at Celine. 'As much as i know, they don't have a dress-code'

'You know what? sure, i'll do it' Celine says 'Nothing comes between me and hygge'

'between you and what?' Michael says. Sometimes i forget he can't speak Danish. 'It's basically what us Italians call 'la dolce vita' Like, coziness and comfiness' Melissa says.

Melissa and Michael start speaking thick Italian, maybe Roman dialect, which, if we didn't understand them in Italian, we definitely don't understand them now. They're speaking really, REALLY FAST, but I know they're discussing the 'dolce vita' thing. Suddenly, Michael smiles and looks at us with the expression he uses when he's about to make a joke.

"Hey, why is it called Italy when it could be called EATaly?" Michael pauses dramatically, looking at all of us. "Y'know, 'cause they eat a lot?"

Nicole bursts out laughing, nearly spilling her drink, while Sophie groans and facepalms. Even Melissa has to bite her lip to stop from smiling, shaking her head at him.

"Seriously, Michael?" I say, rolling my eyes. "You really think you're the first person to come up with that?"

He shrugs. "What can I say? I'm a genius when it comes to food-related humor."

As we continue joking around, the atmosphere is fun and light, but I can't shake the feeling that something is off.

Once we arrive at the party, the music is pumping, and the crowd buzzes with energy. I spot Maya across the room, her usual queen bee attitude radiating. But then, my heart sinks as I see someone I didn't expect—Aaliyah.

"What is she doing here?" I whisper to Melissa, who's gone pale. I can see the memories flooding back to her. Aaliyah, the girl who ghosted Melissa for two months, leaving her to think something terrible had happened.

Maya must have invited her on purpose to bring back those traumas. My heart races as I watch Melissa's expression shift from shock to anxiety. It's like watching a slow-motion train wreck.

Before I can say anything, Melissa's breathing quickens, and I can see the panic rising in her eyes. "I need to get out of here," she murmurs, but it's too late. She clutches her chest and starts to stumble back, her eyes wide.

"Melissa!" I shout, but the noise of the party drowns me out. Michael rushes to her side, looking confused but determined to help. He doesn't know Aaliyah, but the other girls do, and their expressions are a mix of pity and anger.

"Aaliyah," Melissa gasps, looking like she's about to lose it. The sight of her old friend, the one who abandoned her, is too much.