Lily's POV
I wake up to the sound of my phone exploding.
Not literally, though that might hurt less than what's actually happening. Buzz after buzz after buzz, each notification a tiny knife cutting deeper.
Jazz's couch is too small for my body. My neck screams from the awkward angle. Morning light filters through unfamiliar curtains, and for three beautiful seconds, I forget why I'm here.
Then I remember.
Nathan. Madison. Our bed.
Convenient.
My phone won't stop. I grab it off the coffee table, squinting at the cracked screen. Seventy-three messages. Forty-two missed calls.
I open the first text.
Sarah (College Friend): Is it true? Did you really cheat on Nathan?
My stomach drops.
The next message loads.
Brian (Nathan's Coworker): Can't believe you'd do that to him. We all trusted you.
Then another.
Jessica (Yoga Class): Madison told us everything. How could you?
No, I whisper to the empty room. No, no, no
Jazz stumbles out of her bedroom in pajamas, hair wrapped in a silk scarf. What's wrong?
I can't speak. Can't breathe. Just hand her my phone.
She scrolls, her expression darkening with each swipe. That lying piece of
He told everyone I cheated. My voice sounds hollow. They believe him.
We're posting the truth right now
Don't. I take her phone. His family has lawyers. Money. They'll destroy you too.
My phone rings. Unknown number. I answer without thinking.
Ms. Chen? A professional voice. Female. Cold. This is Barbara from Kim Development Group HR. Effective immediately, your employment is terminated. Security will pack your desk items and mail them. Do not attempt to enter the building.
Wait—I already got an email last night
We're calling all listed contacts to ensure you understand. Any attempts to contact current employees will be considered harassment.
The line goes dead.
Jazz sits beside me. We'll figure this out. You'll find another job
My phone buzzes. Nathan.
Nathan: You have 2 weeks to get your stuff out of MY apartment. Lease is in my name. Don't make this harder than it needs to be.
Two weeks to find somewhere to live in Seattle.
I open my banking app with shaking hands.
$847.23.
That's what's left after the wedding deposits.
Jazz, I whisper. I have eight hundred dollars to my name.
More messages flood in.
Emma (Pilates): You should be ashamed.
David (Nathan's College Friend): Nathan deserves better.
Madison: I'm sorry it had to be this way. But you needed to know the truth about your relationship. He never really loved you.
I start blocking everyone. Block. Block. Block.
When I'm done, my contact list has twelve people left.
They all knew, I say quietly. Nobody told me.
Jazz's jaw clenches. Then they were never really your friends.
My phone rings again. Marcus.
Lily. My brother's voice is tight with anger. What the hell is happening? Mom just called crying because Nathan's mother told her you had an affair.
That's not—Marcus, none of that is true—
I know. But you need to tell me what actually happened.
I tell him everything. The betrayal. The termination. The apartment. How everyone believes I'm the villain.
Marcus is silent. When he speaks, his voice is deadly calm. I'm going to kill him.
His family has lawyers and money
And I have receipts and friends in tech who can make things very difficult for the Kim family. He pauses. Wait. Where are you staying?
Jazz's couch. For now.
Lily, you can't He stops. Okay. Let me think. I know some people in Seattle. Maybe someone with a spare room.
I can't ask your friends
You're not asking. I am. His voice softens. You're my sister. Nobody treats you like this.
After we hang up, Jazz hands me coffee. We're finding you somewhere to live today.
We spend the next hour scrolling through rental listings. Everything is too expensive or already taken.
This is impossible, I mutter.
Wait. Jazz clicks on something. Look.
Room available, Capitol Hill, $800/month. Available immediately. Shared bathroom/kitchen. Quiet building. First month rent only, no deposit. Email C.Hayes for details.
Eight hundred dollars. Exactly what I have.
It's probably a scam, I say.
Or a miracle. Jazz stares at the listing. Wait. C. Hayes? That name sounds familiar.
Should it?
She pulls up her phone, typing rapidly. Connor Hayes. He's an architect, right? Didn't he used to hang around Nathan's group?
My stomach flips. Nathan had a friend named Connor.
Tall? Dark hair? Always looked like he wanted to murder everyone at parties?
I remember him vaguely. Nathan's college roommate turned best friend. The man who stood silent at every dinner, every gathering, watching everyone with those cold gray eyes. The one who never spoke to me directly.
He barely said two words to me in two years, I say.
Well, he's got a room for rent. Jazz is already typing an email. What do you have to lose?
Everything. I've already lost everything.
Fine. Send it.
Three minutes later, a response pops up.
Still available. Can you come look at it today? 6pm. Address below.
See? Jazz grins. Miracle.
I stare at the address. Connor Hayes. Nathan's best friend.
This feels like a trap. Or fate's cruelest joke.
But I don't have options.
At 5:45 PM, I'm standing outside Jazz's apartment with my two suitcases.
Jazz hugs me tight. Text me as soon as you see the place. If it's sketchy, you come right back.
The Uber drops me off at 5:58 PM. The building is old but clean.
I climb the stairs to apartment 3B, heart pounding.
Maybe Connor won't even remember me. Maybe this will be fine.
I knock.
Footsteps approach. The door opens.
Connor Hayes stands there—six feet of solid muscle, dark hair messy, gray eyes widening in shock.
Nathan's best friend. The man who spent two years looking through me like I was invisible.
My heart stops.
No, we say at exactly the same time.