Liora stopped short the moment she stepped into her bedroom.

Clara was sitting on Liora’s bed.

She smiled—sweet, slow, deliberate. Too sweet. The kind of smile that curdled in the stomach. She sat cross-legged, each snap of her gum scraping Liora’s nerves raw, making her chest tighten as if warning bells were ringing inside.

“What are you doing here?” Liora demanded. “And how did you get in?”

She already knew she didn’t want the answer. The look on Clara’s face said enough. Clara hadn’t come to explain. She’d come to enjoy this, and the thought made her stomach twist.

“The window, of course,” Clara said lightly, as though breaking into her room was nothing more than borrowing sugar. “And I came to check on you.” She rose slowly, heels clicking softly against the floor as she approached. “After what you saw… I imagined you’d be devastated.”

Liora felt a flicker of panic. Her throat tightened. Don’t let her see you falter.

“Leave.” Liora’s voice was sharp, final. “I have no intention of talking to you, and I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. It’s clear You don’t feel sorry—”

Before she could finish, Clara was right in front of her.

Her smile twisted into something ugly. Something triumphant.

“Oh, I don’t,” Clara said softly. “Trust me. This?” She gestured between them. “It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Ever since you came into my life, and even more so when you and Nathan started dating.”

Liora’s breath hitched. Her chest felt heavy, like the air itself had thickened.

The words slammed into her chest, knocking the air out of her lungs. This—this—was the girl she had called her best friend. Her sister. The one person she thought would never hurt her.

Her mind reeled, scrambling for sense where there was none. How could I have been so blind?

Clara had never been like this. She had been kind. Supportive. Loyal—at least that was what Liora had believed since the day they met at university. Late-night talks. Shared dreams. Shared tears.

Was it all a lie?

“W-Why?” Liora whispered. “What did I ever do to you, Clara? Was every moment we spent together a lie?”

“Yes,” Clara replied without hesitation. “All of it.”

She smirked, turning away as if bored now that the truth was out. Her heels clicked as she crossed the room and sat back down on Liora’s bed—her bed—as if she owned it.

“You must have been so stupid not to notice.”

Liora couldn’t speak. Her hands trembled slightly at her sides.

She wasn’t sure if it was shock or exhaustion that glued her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Clara, however, had plenty to say.

“When you first arrived at university, I actually thought we could be real friends,” Clara continued. “Best friends, even. But then you started getting better at everything.” Her voice sharpened. “Everything became about you. You. You. You.”

She laughed bitterly, a sound that grated against Liora’s bones.

“I was the best. Until you came along and ruined it.”

Each word felt like a blade slicing across her chest. Her stomach turned, and her heart thudded unevenly.

“You had the grades, the attention, the admiration. Everyone loved you, and I was pushed aside.” Clara leaned back on her palms. “So I adapted. I pretended to be your friend. Your best friend. And while you trusted me, I took what was yours. Including Nathan.”

Her eyes gleamed with triumph, sharp and cold. Liora felt a jolt of betrayal so deep it made her stomach drop.

“It didn’t hurt that you came from a wealthy family either. I thought—why not benefit from it? Your money. Your connections. Your life.”

Clara smiled, slow and satisfied. “And I succeeded. I’ve never felt happier.”

Something inside Liora cracked. Her chest ached. Her mind raced back to every little moment she had excused or ignored—the subtle criticisms, the backhanded compliments, the quiet jealousy masked as concern.

She felt sick. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, trembling. Why did I ever trust her?

“Clara,” Liora said hoarsely, her voice trembling despite her effort to stay strong. “Leave my house. And never show your face here again.”

Her fists tightened, nails biting into her palms as tears threatened to spill. Stay strong. Don’t cry in front of her.

Clara laughed. A soft, cruel sound that crawled under her skin.

“Oh, and imagine my joy when I realized you had mommy and daddy issues,” she said cruelly. “All those nights you came crying to my place—I was happy, Liora. Happy that I wasn’t the only one who—”

“ENOUGH!”

The word tore from Liora’s throat, raw and fierce. Her knees felt weak, her body shaking slightly with rage and hurt.

“Leave. Right now,” she said, shaking. “Or I will call Mr. Ambrose and have you dragged out.”

Clara stood, unfazed. “Aw. Did I hit a nerve?”

“Please just go” Liora whispered, Her chest heaving.

“Fine. I’m leaving,” Clara said with a shrug. “I have a date with Nathan anyway.” She paused at the door, smiling wickedly. “No hard feelings, right?”

The door slammed shut.

Liora’s knees gave out. She sank to the floor with a soft thud, breath coming out in uneven, broken gasps. The strength she’d been holding onto vanished.

A knock sounded.

The door opened.

“Miss Liora?” Mr. Ambrose stepped in, worry etched across his face. “I just saw Miss Clara leaving. Is everything alright?”

“No,” Liora said quietly. “Please… make sure she never comes here again.”

He hesitated, then nodded.

“Miss, it’s ok if you’re not ok.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until warmth slid down her cheeks. Her chest felt tight, but a small measure of relief came with it—someone saw, someone cared.

Mr. Ambrose knelt beside her and gently placed a hand on her back.

“It’s alright, Miss,” he said softly. “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

That was all it took.

Liora broke.

She cried into her hands as everything she’d been holding in spilled out—betrayal, heartbreak, exhaustion. Mr. Ambrose stayed, steady and silent, grounding her.

Time blurred.

Her sobs eventually quieted.

“Thank you, Mr—”

Her words died in her throat.

A furious voice cut through the room.

“What the hell is going on here?!”