It was a message thread. Screenshots. A name I didn’t recognize. Accusations typed in all caps. Someone claiming Avery was lying about who she was. That she’d “stolen a life.” That she’d manipulated me.
I felt like the floor tilted.
“What is this?” I asked, barely recognizing my own voice.
Marisa crossed her arms. “I didn’t want to believe it. But I did some digging. She’s been messaging this woman. Secretly.”
I didn’t yell. I didn’t explode. I just walked to the hallway and knocked on Avery’s door.
She opened it, eyes red already, like she’d been waiting.
“I was going to tell you,” she said immediately. “I swear.”
We sat on her bed. She handed me her phone with shaking hands.
The messages weren’t what Marisa had implied.
They were careful. Gentle. Awkward.
