I woke up to the sound of Renai cursing under her breath.
Something thudded onto the floor.
"You good?" I mumbled, voice scratchy, face still halfway buried in a pillow.
"No," she groaned. "I dropped the last dumpling. I told you we should've refrigerated this shit."
I turned my head slightly, blinking at her through one open eye.
She was sitting cross-legged on the floor in one of my hoodies and barefoot, chopsticks in hand, looking genuinely devastated over the piece of shrimp that now lived on my bedroom rug.
"I hope that dumpling haunts you," I said.
She gave me the finger without breaking eye contact, then shoved a bite of cold rice into her mouth.
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling.
Everything hit slower in the morning. The weight of the night before settled in layers. First the awkwardness. Then the anger. Then the part where I started hating myself for still giving a fuck.
Renai glanced over at me.
"You were out last night," she said. "Like full emotional shutdown. Haven't seen you do that since sophomore year when Jacob cheated with that drama club girl."
"Don't bring that gremlin into this."
"Just sayin'." She paused. "This is worse though, right?"
I didn't answer.
Because yeah. It was.
Matío hadn't said anything after I walked away.
And I hated how much that still stung.
"He should've stopped her at the door," I muttered.
Renai nodded. "He should've said something. Anything."
I sat up slowly, my oversized tee sliding off one shoulder. "He always shuts down when it matters most. Like, congrats on your emotional constipation, dude. Want a gold star for bottling your feelings?"
