The Quiet Contract

Problem

Jennie's POV

I stared at the email on my laptop, the subject line innocuous at first glance: "Something You Should Know." My curiosity was piqued, but nothing prepared me for what waited inside.

The first image loaded slowly, pixel by pixel, as if it wanted to torment me. Lisa. Diana. Their lips pressed together, a kiss so intimate it felt like a dagger straight to my chest. My heart stopped for a moment, disbelief coursing through me.

Then came another photo.

And another.

Each one worse than the last. Lisa and Diana in a dimly lit club, bodies close, smiles exchanged, hands grazing. They looked like they were in their own world. My breathing quickened, my chest tightening as the weight of it all began to crush me.

No.

This couldn't be real.

I clicked on the next image, my hands trembling. The final one hit me the hardest. Lisa leaning into Diana, her hand resting casually on Diana's waist, her lips grazing Diana's ear.

I couldn't breathe.

The email wasn't just images—it had words, too.

"She's lying to you, Jennie. This is who Lisa really is. They even slept together in Thailand. Do you really think she's the person you thought she was?"

The bile rose in my throat as I reread the words. Slept together? My head spun, and suddenly I was back in that moment, that conversation I'd had with Lisa.

I'd asked her—no, I'd trusted her.

"Did you and Diana ever have a thing?" I'd asked her that night, my voice laced with hesitation, hoping her answer would soothe the insecurities bubbling inside me.

And she'd said nothing. She had brushed it off, laughed it away as if it were ridiculous to even consider.

But now, staring at these photos, it was like she had slapped me across the face with her dishonesty. I felt so stupid. So utterly foolish for believing her, for letting her in.

My chest tightened further, tears burning at the edges of my vision. Was this who Lisa really was? A liar? A player? Had I just been another name on her list?

The images blurred as the tears finally spilled over. My vision tunneled, and all I could feel was this raw, overwhelming sense of betrayal.

I thought about everything—the nights she held me, the soft words she whispered, the promises she made without even saying them aloud. The way she had said I was different, that I was special.

But was I?

Or had I been played?

Anger surged through me, cutting through the hurt like a blade. How dare she. How dare she pretend to care about me while hiding this? How dare she let me think I was someone important to her when all this time, she was kissing Diana, touching Diana—being with Diana.

The thought made me want to scream.

I slammed the laptop shut, the images burned into my memory regardless. My mind raced, questions flooding in faster than I could process them.

Had she lied to me this whole time? Did everything we shared mean nothing? Was I just another girl in a long line of meaningless flings for her?

My stomach churned. I could still hear her voice, soft and reassuring, as she told me I had nothing to worry about. But now, all I could hear were the lies.