Chapter 3

Lara wasn’t used to guilt.

Not the real kind—not the kind that curled under her ribs and sat there like something heavy and breathing.

She wasn’t a villain. Mischief, sure. Teasing? A personality trait. But secrets? Real secrets?

She kept glancing at Megan, who hadn’t said more than ten words since this morning. And even then, they were whispered, half-hearted things: yeah, okay, sure, fine, I’m tired. And I’m fine, which was the biggest lie of them all.

Megan hadn’t even looked her in the eye. Not once. Not since that night.

Lara could still hear her voice, raw and angry: You had no right.

Now the whole house smelled like garlic, burnt toast, and too many emotions. Dinner prep with six people who were all tired, touchy, and dancing around something they couldn’t name? Recipe for disaster.

“Megan, can you cut the tomatoes?” Yoonchae asked sweetly from across the counter.

Megan, already holding the knife, blinked like she’d forgotten she was even in the room. “Yeah,” she muttered, and started slicing without a second glance.

Lara stood by the stove, stirring the rice with too much force.

Daniela was near the sink, peeling cucumbers like her life depended on it. Manon kept stealing raw mushrooms from the cutting board and throwing them at Sophia, who kept pretending not to notice.

It should’ve been funny. It usually was. But not today.

Lara tried to join in. “Manon, I swear—if you throw one more mushroom, I’m putting wasabi in your water bottle.”

Manon grinned, clearly unbothered. “Do it. Maybe I’ll finally feel something.”

Sophia rolled her eyes but smiled. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Learned from the best,” Manon shot back, flicking a mushroom at her forehead.

Laughter followed. Light. Easy.

Lara glanced at Megan again. No reaction.

Even Daniela was smiling a little, glancing up from the cucumbers to see where the mushroom landed.

But Megan didn’t even flinch. Her eyes were on the tomatoes, her face unreadable. She looked like someone trying to disappear through a task.

Lara’s chest tightened.

She knew what it was. Defense. Distance. The quiet kind of shutting down that came when you didn’t trust the room with your insides. Megan had always been a little guarded—but this was different. This was retreat.

Lara caught Daniela watching, too.

Just for a second.

Then Daniela looked away, brows pinched in a faint line. She didn’t say anything. But Lara knew the look: confused, slightly annoyed, and—underneath it—something a little like hurt.

She feels it, Lara realized. She just doesn’t understand it.

And Megan was too deep in her head to notice Daniela watching her at all.

The journal’s words echoed back in Lara’s mind.
I just want her to see me without it ruining everything.
I’d rather be quiet forever than scare her away.
She’s so close and still feels a million miles away.

The water started boiling over.
“Shit,” Lara muttered, quickly turning the heat down on the rice.

“You good?” Sophia asked from across the room.

“Yeah, yeah. Rice drama,” Lara said, waving her hand.

Daniela turned slightly. “Want help?”

Lara paused, the irony not lost on her.
I know something you don’t, she thought.
Something about the girl behind you that would blow your mind.

But she just forced a smile. “I got it. You focus on those cucumbers.”

Daniela rolled her eyes but turned back around.

Dinner prep continued. A little too quiet. A little too careful. Megan still hadn’t laughed. And she still wasn’t looking at either of them—Lara or Daniela.

That’s what hurt most, actually.

Lara hadn’t expected Megan to forgive her overnight—but the cold shoulder stung in a way she didn’t know how to process. She didn’t want her friend to suffer alone. But now she was the reason Megan was shutting down even harder.

So Lara did the only thing she could think to do.

She made things louder.

“Alright,” she said, “this kitchen is emotionally constipated. I’m putting on Dua Lipa and if no one starts dancing I’m declaring war.”

Sophia snorted. “You’ve already declared war five times today.”

“Exactly. You’re all on notice.”

The beat kicked in—something upbeat and glittery, from the group’s “kitchen safe” playlist. Lara started dramatically shoulder-shimmying in Manon’s direction. Manon responded by moonwalking with a baguette. Yoonchae covered her face, laughing.

Even Daniela cracked a real smile.

But Megan?

She didn’t move. Didn’t smile. Didn’t even react to the music change. She just kept chopping, slower now, like the motion had become too heavy.

Lara’s heart twisted.
She’s breaking in front of us and none of them can see it.
Only she could see the exact reason why.

She couldn’t take it anymore.

Lara dropped the spoon, wiped her hands, and crossed the room. Quietly, carefully. She stopped beside Megan at the counter, far enough not to crowd her.

“Hey,” she said softly, just for her. “You okay?”

Megan paused. Her jaw tightened.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

Megan’s eyes finally lifted—and met hers. Just for a second. There was so much pain there, Lara almost stepped back.

“Don’t,” Megan whispered. “Not now.”

Lara nodded, once. She wouldn’t push. She couldn’t fix it in one conversation. But she wasn’t going to disappear, either.

“You don’t have to talk,” Lara said gently. “But… I’m here. Even if you’re mad at me.”

Megan blinked fast—too fast—and then looked away.

But she didn’t tell her to go.

It was a start.

By the time they sat down to eat, everything looked almost normal.

Salad, rice, bread. Laughter returned in bits and pieces. Manon made a dramatic toast with sparkling water. Sophia argued about the correct cheese-to-pasta ratio. Yoonchae stole a breadstick off Daniela’s plate. Normal, normal, normal.

But underneath it?

Lara could still feel it.

Megan, quiet and withdrawn, barely touching her food.
Daniela, sneaking glances, frowning more than she should’ve.
And her—sitting between two people stuck in their own emotional orbit, holding a secret that didn’t belong to her but had now become her burden too.

It would unravel eventually. Lara knew that.

But not yet.

For now, she would sit in the middle of the tension, pretending everything was fine.

She owed Megan that much.