Page 81 of Twisted Violet

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My eye twitches.

She sounds… off.

“Violet.”

She glances over her shoulder, smile faint. “Hmm?”

“We should talk.”

She turns back to the pan. “What about?”

“Last night.”

She flips the eggs in the pan with no hesitation. “What about it?”

I take a stepcloser. “You left.”

“Oh, I figured you had plans. Thought I’d give you space.”

I watch her. She’s too calm. Too even. Her voice is soft, but there’s no warmth in it. Just… politeness and precision. Like she rehearsed every line.

“You don’t have to pretend.” I say.

“I’m not.” She says, sliding the eggs onto a plate and setting it on the counter. “You should eat.”

Then she brushes past me like nothing’s changed. Like last night was just a favor, not a memory burned into my skin. Like we didn’t spend the night pressed so close together I forgot where I ended and she began.

She doesn’t touch me, doesn’t look back, doesn’t pause.

I almost look at her wrist to check to see if she’s still wearing it. But I don’t, because I’m not sure I could handle it if she wasn’t.

I stare at the plate and my stomach turns. Not because of the food, but because I’ve seen this version of her before.

The one that smiles through pain. The one that keeps everyone at a safe distance by making it look easy.

That’s not the girl I carried into my bed last night. That girl trusted me.

This one?

This one’s just going through the motions.

And I don’t know how to reach her anymore.

TWENTY-NINE

VIOLET

I wakeup already knowing what I have to do.

Not what I want. Not what I feel like.

Just… what’s necessary.

Pretend nothing’s changed.

Pretend I didn’t hear my sister spell it out in plain English.

That they’re being paid.

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