Page 28 of Symphony for Lies

I had just finished packing when I remembered something.Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a book.“I got this for you.”

Simon’s eyes widened as he took it with a small smile.“What’s it about?”

“That’s for you to tell me,” I teased. “I’m giving you two weeks to read the first ten chapters. Then we’ll talk about it.”

“And if I finish the whole thing?”

I grinned. “Then we’ll have a real conversation about it.”

Outside, the air was crisp but pleasant.

“Is someone picking you up?”

“Yeah. My mom. We are going to a gala tonight.”

I studied him, noticing for the first time that Simon was dressed in a suit.

“My brother’s performing. But he’s just going to play and leave. He has more important things to do.”

“I’m sure it’ll be nice.”

Simon didn’t look convinced. “It’s not fun. But I have to go.”

Oh.I didn’t know what to say.

But then he shot me a smile. “Thank you for waiting with me.”

“Of course, Simon.”

Moments later, a car pulled up with Mrs. Cole behind the wheel.

“Get in, Simon.” Her voice was sharp, dismissive. She didn’t even glance at me.

Simon sighed, gave me a quick wave, and climbed into the car.

I watched them leave, then turned and headed home.

My grandma was out with her friends, enjoying one of the crochet club meetings.Which meant I had the night to myself.

I freshened up, changed into something nice, and grabbed my favorite purse. I was going to Cozy Corner to see my friends.

Chapter 9

The café was as busy as ever. It was one of the trendiest spots in town, a two-story structure with a modern yet cozy aesthetic. The garden patio was illuminated with lanterns and colorful lights, creating a warm, enchanting atmosphere. Upstairs, you could enjoy a breathtaking view of the city through the windows and get a drink at the bar.

Soft pop music played in the background, blending with the chatter of people and the rich aroma of coffee and pastries hanging in the air.

I scanned the crowd, looking for my friends. They had texted me earlier in the evening, letting me know they had snagged a window seat on the first floor.

It took me a second, but then I spotted them—the familiar brown hijab, the fluffy black afro, and the red ponytail.

As I approached, a small smile formed on my lips. They were deep in conversation, completely unaware of my presence.

“Good evening, is this seat taken?” I greeted playfully.

They immediately stopped talking.

Three pairs of wide eyes snapped toward me. And before I knew it, they jumped up from their seats.

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