[Formerly known as 'Trinkets']
Mahika and Amoli can't stand each other, but that's not the only thing they have in common.
Mahika treats Amoli like she's childish. Amoli thinks Mahika is a stuck-up prude. But Mahika's best friend and Amoli's brother...
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The car smells like sweat and car freshener.
Too sharp, like citrus trying to cover up something it can't quite erase. Amoli slides into the passenger seat like she's sleepwalking, like her limbs aren't quite hers. She pulls the door shut behind her and winces at the sound it makes—too loud, too final. She doesn't look at Arnav. She doesn't look at anything.
Her palms are still damp. Her mouth still tastes like metal. The buzz of the café is gone now, replaced with the muted hum of traffic outside the windows and the faint whir of the AC trying to keep up with the late afternoon heat. Her fingers twist into the sleeves of her sweater again. She hasn't said a word since she got in.
Arnav keeps glancing sideways at her like he doesn't know whether to speak or just keep driving. His knuckles are tight on the steering wheel. He's not even playing music; just the sound of their breathing, uneven and not in sync.
"I didn't know she was going to—" he starts, then stops. Swallows. Tries again. "She asked to use my phone to check the insurance app. She forgot her password and mine was already logged in."
That's all it takes.
Just that one sentence.
And Amoli's entire body seems to fold in on itself. Like she's trying to disappear into the passenger seat, into the fabric of her own hoodie. Her arms wrap tighter around her middle. Her teeth clamp down on her bottom lip, hard. She doesn't make a sound. She just stares straight ahead.
"She handed it back and said she needed to make a call," Arnav continues quietly. "She didn't even look at me. Just walked out of the room. I checked the screen and—" His voice breaks like he didn't mean it to. "And your name was still open."
Amoli squeezes her eyes shut.
"She didn't say anything," Arnav says, and this time it's not calm. This time there's something wild in the edges of his voice. "She just... she looked at me and then she didn't. Like she couldn't. And then she walked out of the house. She hasn't said a single word since."
Amoli still doesn't say anything. The words in her mouth feel too jagged to swallow.
Arnav exhales sharply, gripping the wheel like it's the only solid thing in reach. "I didn't know where she was going. I thought—I don't know. I just kept watching the driveway like maybe she'd come back. But then I thought of you sitting alone somewhere. And if she was going to call anyone—"
"She did," Amoli whispers, her voice cracking like glass.
Arnav turns to her, startled. "What?"
"She called me. Right after." Her throat bobs as she swallows. "Twice."
"Did she say anything?"
Amoli shakes her head. "I couldn't... I didn't pick up."
