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Adelaide sat cross-legged on her bed, a thick cashmere blanket wrapped around her shoulders like armor. Her laptop glowed softly beside her, abandoned on the home screen. The unread text from Monet sat on her phone like a weight.
"Saw you today. You looked... good."
She didn't respond.
Instead, her fingers curled tighter around the delicate chain Diana had returned to her that morning—a gold heart charm bracelet, the one they'd buried at the bottom of her summer things years ago when Diana left for Geneva.
"You kept it?" Adelaide had asked, surprised.
Diana had just smiled, pushing it over her wrist. "Of course I did. I was always coming back for you."
And for a second, it had felt easy. Safe. Like a version of her life untouched by Gossip Girl blasts and ruined kisses.
But then came the problem.
Monet wasn't just a headline.
She wasn't a mistake.
She was still under Adelaide's skin like perfume that wouldn't wash off. Her name sat at the back of Adelaide's throat all day. Her face flickered across every reflective surface in New York.
Monet had hurt her. Lied to her. Played games with hearts like they were poker chips.
But Monet had also seen her when no one else was looking. Had fought her parents at that dinner table. Had promised to follow her halfway across the world for a cause Adelaide barely had the words for.
Diana made her feel whole again.
Monet made her feel everything.
Adelaide let her head fall back against the headboard.
She hated that the choice wasn't obvious.
Diana had come back like the soft return of spring. Familiar. Patient. Gentle.
But Monet had never been patient.
She was fire and velvet and ruin.
And Adelaide didn't know which one scared her more—Diana's promise of something steady...
...or Monet's ability to burn through every lie until only the truth remained.
In the quiet, her phone buzzed again. Another message.
From Diana this time.
"Dinner tomorrow? Just us."
And underneath it, one more from Monet:
"Don't fall for her just because I broke you first."
