Elara
I kept telling myself that what happened with Damian was temporary.
That was the only way it made sense.
If I treated it like something brief, something that existed outside my real life, then I could keep it from bleeding into everything else.
Especially conversations I didn’t know how to have.
Like this dinner with Lila.
She was stirring her pasta absentmindedly when she looked up at me.
“You’ve been quiet for ten minutes.
That’s not normal for you.”
”I’m just tired,” I said quickly.
Lila narrowed her eyes immediately, the way she always did when she knew I was lying.
“You don’t get ‘just tired’ in that tone.
You get ‘I’m hiding something’ tired.”
I forced a small laugh.
“You’re being dramatic.”
”I’m being accurate,” she corrected.
The problem with Lila was that she always noticed too much.
I poked at my food, then decided I needed a safer topic.
Something she wouldn’t dig too deeply into.
“My mom’s been sick,” I said.
That wasn’t entirely a lie.
It just wasn’t the full truth either.
Lila’s expression changed immediately.
“Sick how?”
”Nothing serious,” I said too quickly.
“Just…
medical expenses.
I’m thinking about getting a part-time job.
I’ve been stressing over it lately.”
Her face tightened in frustration.
“Elara, your mother hasn’t even checked on you in years.
Why are you still acting like you owe her anything?”
That hit harder than I wanted it to.
I looked down at my plate.
“It’s not that simple.”
”It is that simple,” she said firmly.
“She left.
She chose a new life.
She chose not to include you in it.”
My grip tightened slightly around my spoon.
“She didn’t just leave,” I said quietly.
Lila leaned back, already bracing herself.
“Then explain it,” she said.
“You never talk about your estranged mother and now you’re working double for her?
It doesn’t make sense.”
I hesitated.
Then, because she was my best friend and because I couldn’t keep carrying it alone forever, I spoke.
“My mom left when I was a kid,” I said.
“She married a CEO.
Suddenly everything changed—new house, new life, new family.
My dad…
he didn’t survive it well.”
Lila’s expression softened slightly.
“He got sick not long after she left,” I continued.
“Stress, depression, everything just…
collapsed on him.
He tried to hold things together for me, but he couldn’t.” My voice steadied, but only barely.
“He died when I was still in school.”
Silence settled between us.
I forced myself to continue before I lost momentum.
“I was raised by my grandparents after that.
They did everything they could, but we didn’t have much.
And my mom…” I paused.
“She built a new life again.
But even that didn’t last.
Her second marriage fell apart.
She lost the money, the status, everything.”
Lila’s brows pulled together.
“So she came back?”
”No,” I said.
“She spiraled instead.
Drinking.
Gambling.
Sometimes she calls, sometimes she doesn’t remember she called.”
My chest tightened slightly.
“But she’s still my mother,” I added quietly.
“That’s not a reason to destroy yourself for her,” Lila said immediately.
“I’m not destroying myself.”
”You are,” she said.
“You’re working yourself into exhaustion for someone who didn’t even stay long enough to raise you.”
I didn’t answer right away because part of me knew she was right.
But another part of me couldn’t let go of the idea that abandoning her mother completely would mean becoming someone colder than I wanted to be.
“I can’t just turn my back on her,” I said finally, though using her as a reason was still a lie.
Lila exhaled sharply, clearly frustrated, but she didn’t push further.
She knew me well enough to know when I had already decided something internally.
Instead, she leaned forward again.
“Fine.
Change topic before I start yelling in public.”
That earned a faint smile from me.
I hesitated, then sighed.
“Work’s been worse.”
Lila immediately perked up again.
“Oh, of course, work.
Define worse.”
I stared at my glass for a second before answering.
“My manager keeps making comments.
Touching my shoulder too long.
Standing too close.
Asking me to stay after hours for things that aren’t work-related.”
Lila’s expression darkened instantly.
“That’s harassment.”
”I know.”
”And you’re still working there?”
”I need the money,” I said simply.
“That’s not a reason to stay somewhere unsafe.”
I sighed.
“I don’t have a choice right now.”
Lila looked genuinely angry now.
“Yes, you do.
You always have a choice.
You just don’t like the options.”
I didn’t respond.
I looked down at the cheap food on my place and remembered how lavish Damian’s lifestyle was—and so was his vase.
Lila rubbed her forehead, trying to calm herself.
“What did you asshole boss do this time?”
”He asked me to go for a walk with him this weekend,” I admitted.
Lila nearly dropped her fork.
“Oh, that’s bold,” she said dryly.
“He’s not even pretending anymore.”
I gave a small, tired laugh.
“I don’t know how to get out of it without making things worse.”
Lila was quiet for a moment, thinking.
Then her expression shifted.
“I have an idea,” she said.
“You tell him you have a boyfriend.”
”I don’t have a boyfriend.”
”Then pretend.”
I blinked at her.
“What?”
”It works,” she insisted.
“Men like that back off fast when they think there’s competition.”
That made me pause and thought about it.
“I’ll just say he’s out of the country or something?” I said slowly.
Lila nodded immediately.
“Perfect.
Long-distance.
Dramatic.
Unavailable.”
I hesitated again, then sighed.
“Fine.”
She grinned.
“Good.
Now you just need proof,” she said and pointed at my phone.
“Just post something casual—or post our movie tickets!
That’s believable.”
That stuck in my mind longer than it should have.
Something that wouldn’t matter after the weekend.
I pulled out my phone while Lila was talking about something else entirely.
We were about to leave the restaurant when I took a photo of two movie tickets I had in my bag from earlier.
I didn’t think too much about it and just posted it.
Caption: He’s finally coming back this weekend.
I stared at it for a second after uploading, then locked my phone.
It didn’t feel like a big decision.
It felt like a small shield to keep the world from getting too close.