Madison didn’t waste time.

She stepped right into my path like she owned the hallway, like she’d been rehearsing this moment in her mirror, waiting for the perfect angle of attack.

“You and Jaxon,” she said, no greeting, no fake smile, no buildup. Just those words aimed straight at the center of me. “Ten days. Behind all of our backs. You really went full main character, huh?”

I didn’t blink.

I didn’t give her the satisfaction.

Instead, I folded my arms across my chest and said, just as cool, “You mean after you slept with my boyfriend?”

For the first time, Madison flinched.

It was small — a barely-there tightening of her jaw, the faintest flicker across her face — but I saw it. I felt it, like a tiny crack in the marble.

“I didn’t plan it,” she said, her voice dropping lower. “I’m not some scheming villain in your little revenge fantasy.”

I tilted my head. “Then what do you call it?”

Madison didn’t snap back. Didn’t roll her eyes or fire off some devastating comeback. She just… looked tired.

Tired in a way that made something in my chest twist even as I hated myself for it.

“You never loved him,” she said finally. Not sharp. Not cruel. Just sad. “Not the way I did.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Like a slap I hadn’t seen coming.

I didn’t let it show.

I stood there, arms crossed, nails digging into the fabric of my sleeves, daring her to keep going.

And she did.

“I was there,” Madison said, voice steady now, almost clinical. “Every time he screwed up. Every time he ghosted you for a weekend and you just smiled through it. I watched you pretend not to care. I watched you make excuses. You weren’t in it. You dated him because it made sense. Because it looked good.”

She shifted her weight, glancing at the lockers around us, at the growing, silent crowd pretending not to listen but absolutely hanging on every word.

“I loved him,” she said. “Because I couldn’t not.”

For a second, just a second, I saw her.

Not Madison the traitor. Not Madison the gossip. Not Madison the girl who’d plastered my name on bulletin boards in screaming red ink.

Just Maddie.

The girl who used to sleep over at my house, raiding my fridge for cookie dough at two a.m., whispering about first kisses and college dreams.

The girl who had spent years standing just a little bit to the side. Waiting.

And maybe, maybe, she was right.

Maybe I hadn’t loved Liam the way I was supposed to.

But that didn’t make it okay.

“You could’ve told me,” I said, my voice low but steady. “You could’ve said something. Instead of nuking everything.”

Madison smiled then, but it wasn’t the victorious, glossy smile she usually wore. It was brittle. Cracked at the edges.

“I didn’t think you’d fight back,” she said. “That’s on me.”

I stared at her.

At the stranger in front of me.

Then I turned to go, my shoes squeaking slightly on the polished floor.

But I stopped, because there was one more thing I had to say.

I looked over my shoulder, straight at her.

“You’re right,” I said. “I didn’t love him.”

Her face barely moved.

“But I trusted you.”

The words hung there for a second too long. Long enough for her to feel them. Then my phone buzzed in my hand. I glanced down, heart already leaping without permission.

JAXON: Can we talk?

Perfect timing. I didn’t even hesitate.

ZOE: Where?

The reply came almost immediately.

JAXON: Tennis courts. Midnight.