Dirty Little Secret (GxG)

SEASON 2, CHAPTER 27

Dria's POV

As Sandra leaves my office, her face tinged with an unusual amount of humility, I can't help but lean back in my chair, hands resting on the armrests as I replay our conversation. She'd walked in, still slightly embarrassed from last night, and apologized in a way that seemed almost sincere. She even had the nerve to invite me to her birthday, after everything. A birthday I'd nearly forgotten entirely—or perhaps I'd willed myself to forget.

It's strange. Ten years ago, I'd have had her birthday marked on my calendar with a countdown, plans ready weeks in advance. I would have been consumed by ideas for how to make it special, how to make her feel celebrated. But now, the very thought that I once cared so much about someone who hurt me so deeply feels... absurd. I feel nothing but a fleeting curiosity as I listen to her suggestion—celebrating her birthday at a foundation for the elderly, where she could parade her kindness for all to see. Is this supposed to soften me? Convince me that she's somehow changed, that she's grown into a "better person" while I was gone?

Pathetic.

I almost shake my head, catching myself. No. Keep that wall up, Dria.

Sandra even insisted that I bring Luna with me. The nerve. It feels like some attempt at staging a spectacle where she can play the benevolent host, the perfect woman, trying to capture the goodness she once boasted about. She knows that foundation work was always one of my passions, a place where I found meaning in service, even in the quietest ways. Seeing her put on this performance as though she shares that same heart... it's almost laughable. A true act, if ever there was one.

But she didn't just leave without a trace of impact. The truth is, when Sandra is near, I'm never entirely at ease. I feel that tightening in my chest, that rush of adrenaline that reminds me how I used to hang on her every word, every smile. And that's what bothers me the most. It's that lingering remnant of something that refuses to fade, a stubborn feeling that refuses to be severed even though it has every reason to vanish entirely. I thought I had buried these reactions with enough distance and time to make them irrelevant.

But no, she's still here, pushing her way into my thoughts.

"Bring Luna with you," she had said, her voice warm, bordering on affectionate. She didn't falter. She didn't flinch. Does she think she can still control how I feel? Does she think I'll play her game?

I pull my gaze to the glass door, catching a faint reflection of myself in the dim light of my office. No, I think firmly. That woman—the one who would let Sandra dictate her emotions—is long gone. I refuse to be played, and I refuse to be swept up in whatever game Sandra is running.

The more I sit here, the more my chest tightens, but I keep myself composed. To feel anything more would be surrendering to her all over again, giving her exactly what she wants. She can offer apologies, act humble, and give all the flowers and foundation work she pleases. But none of it changes the reality of what happened, or who she really is beneath the charm.

****

I dial Luna's number, feeling a strange tightness in my chest as I wait for her to pick up. Sandra's invitation lingers in my mind, a constant pull that I can't seem to ignore. I don't even know why I care enough to reach out, but part of me needs to hear what Luna thinks before I let myself make a decision.

After a couple of rings, Luna's soft but steady voice greets me, "Dria. What's up?"

I take a breath, my fingers tracing idle patterns on my desk. "Sandra... she invited us to her birthday."

There's a long pause on the other end. I imagine Luna standing there, probably in her own office or kitchen, processing everything. She knows enough about my past with Sandra to understand the weight of that invitation. She'd seen me at my lowest, broken after Sandra denies me.