The Sweetest Fruit ( Tomboy 🏳️‍🌈Love Story )

46. I was paid to

Sonia

The walk to the apartment was suffocatingly familiar, as if the pavement itself was conspiring to remind me of steps I had taken not a year ago. The evening air felt heavy, its dampness clinging to my skin. My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag, my knuckles whitening as a wave of unease washed over me.

The lit hallways stretched ahead like a tunnel, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. Shadows danced on the beige walls, taunting me with memories I had buried. Memories of heartbreak, betrayal, and shame.

"Are you okay?" MJ’s voice sliced through the haze of my thoughts. Her brows furrowed as she tilted her head, searching my face.

I nodded quickly, forcing a tight-lipped smile. "Yeah. Just tired," I lied, swallowing the lump forming in my throat.

The key MJ had given me felt unnaturally cold in my hand as I unlocked the door. When the hinges creaked open, the air inside hit me—stale, tainted with an intangible weight.

This place.

My heart pounded in my chest as my eyes swept over the room. The kitchen counter caught my attention, and suddenly, the bile rose in my throat. This was where Kian and Lynn had been. This was where they’d humiliated me. Where they’d called me to witness their mockery of our friendship.

I fumbled for my phone, searching desperately for Lynn’s number, only to remember I had deleted it long ago. My hands shook as I stared at the blank screen, my breathing uneven.

"Sonia?" MJ's voice startled me. She had both our bags in her hands, her dark eyes darting to me with concern. "I’ve ordered food. There’s nothing here to eat." She shut the door behind her, her tone casual, unaware of the storm brewing inside me.

I dropped the phone with a clatter, my legs barely holding me up. "This is the house," I whispered, my voice trembling.

MJ’s brow furrowed. "Yeah, the one we’re staying in before school starts," she replied, her tone confused.

I shook my head violently. "No," I spat, my voice cracking. "This is the house. The one where Kian and Lynn..." I couldn’t finish the sentence. The words felt like acid on my tongue.

MJ’s face fell, her jaw slackening in shock. "What?"

"They were on that counter," I said, pointing with a trembling finger to the open kitchen. My voice rose in frustration. "Naked. Laughing. Right there."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I’m sure!" I snapped, pacing the room. My hands flew to my waist as I struggled to breathe, the walls closing in on me.

"This has to be some kind of sick joke," I muttered, turning to MJ. My eyes narrowed. "How do you even have this place?"

She hesitated, her gaze darting to the floor. "Coincidence," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I told you it's my older brothers so I don't know who he brings here."

Her avoidance only fueled my rage. "I need to talk to Lynn," I said, the decision solidifying in my mind.

MJ froze, her eyes wide. "Why?" she asked, panic creeping into her voice.

"Because I need to know why she did this to me," I said, my voice cracking under the weight of my emotions.

MJ grabbed my arm, her fingers trembling against my skin. "It happened a year ago, Sonia. Let it go."

"I can’t," I whispered, tears pooling in my eyes. "It still hurts. It hurts so much."

MJ pulled me into a tight embrace as the dam broke, and sobs wracked my body. My grief poured out in waves—grief I had buried so deeply I thought it might have disappeared.

Her hands wove into my hair, grounding me. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I felt safe.

"Are you ever going to hurt me like that, MJ?" I asked, my voice muffled against her shoulder.

She stiffened, her hands faltering. When I looked up at her, her face was unreadable.

"Sonia, I..."

"You what?" I pressed, searching her expression for answers.

She pulled me closer instead of answering, her silence as heavy as the air around us.

---

Later, when the food arrived, I grabbed it along with my phone. MJ had fallen asleep, her head resting on my lap. Guilt churned in my stomach as I scrolled through Instagram, unblocking Lynn’s account against my better judgment. Her profile was an endless parade of filtered perfection—smiles that didn’t reach her eyes, vacations funded by indulgent old men.

Why had we even been friends?

My thumb hovered over the message button before I gave in and typed.

Me: It’s Sonia. We need to talk.

She replied almost instantly.

Lynn: Uh, about?

Me: Kian. Where are you? I need to see you.

Her hesitation was palpable.

Lynn: I don’t think that’s a good idea.

Moments later, she posted a picture at some lounge nearby. Stupid mistake. I pinned her location and ordered an Uber.

Bill’s Meat & Grill was bustling with life. The chatter of patrons filled the air, mixing with the sizzling of grills and the clinking of glasses. My casual outfit stood out like a sore thumb amidst the crowd of impeccably dressed diners, but I didn’t care.

I scanned the room, my heart pounding, until I found her. Lynn sat at a table with a man who looked far too old to be her date.

"Lynn," I called, my voice cutting through the noise. Her head snapped up, her eyes wide as she registered my presence.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, standing quickly and glancing over her shoulder.

"We need to talk," I said, my voice firm.

The man at her table frowned, looking between us. "Babe, who is this?"

I ignored him, my focus locked on Lynn. Her lips parted as if to speak, but she hesitated, her eyes darting toward the exit.

"Why did you sleep with Kian?" I demanded, my voice cracking.

Her face hardened. "For money," she said flatly.

The words knocked the breath out of me.

"He paid you to sleep with him?" I asked, barely able to get the words out.

"No," she said, a cruel smile tugging at her lips. "Your girlfriend did."

My world tilted, and everything fell apart.