A Week Later
The week that followed was a strange one.
Amanda saw Angela nearly every day at work, the way she always had—laughing in the hallways, juggling coffee and folders, making sarcastic remarks during staff meetings. They still texted about everything and nothing: bad cafeteria food, terrible student excuses, Spork’s latest antics. From the outside, nothing had changed.
But inside Amanda, something was different. Tighter. Quieter.
She found herself replaying the night they'd crashed at Angela's—the easy way Angela had handed over her space without a second thought, the way Spork had curled up at Amanda’s feet like she'd always belonged there. How natural it had felt. How terrifying.
Amanda told herself she was being ridiculous. Angela had a date scheduled with Lucy, after all. Angela was… dating. Living her life. Moving forward.
And Amanda’s role was to be her friend. Her very good, very supportive friend.
Nothing more.
Nothing more.
Saturday arrived like a slow-building storm.
Angela's date with Lucy.
Amanda tried to focus on cleaning her apartment—scrubbing the countertops, organizing the bookshelves, rearranging the spice rack by alphabetical order—but nothing settled the nervous hum under her skin.
Around six, a text buzzed across her phone.
Angela: Heading out. Wish me luck.
Amanda stared at the screen for a long moment before replying.
Amanda: You'll be great. Have fun.
She hit send and immediately regretted the breezy tone. It sounded fake. Hollow.
Amanda tossed her phone onto the couch and paced the living room. She had no claim on Angela. No right to feel this… off-balance.
It’s not like you’re jealous, she told herself.
You’re just… protective.
It sounded hollow even in her own head.
An hour later, she found herself curled up under a blanket on her couch, a forgotten glass of wine in hand, Spork's Instagram page pulled up on her phone. Angela had posted a picture that morning—Spork half-buried under a pile of laundry, looking aggrieved.
The caption read: "Mood: buried alive by adult responsibilities."
Amanda smiled despite herself, tracing the edge of the screen with her thumb.
She missed Angela. Stupidly. Viscerally.
And she didn’t know what to do about it.
Not yet.
Not when Angela was out there, maybe falling for someone else.
Amanda closed her eyes, listening to the quiet hum of the city outside her window, and told herself that tomorrow would be easier.
That she could go back to pretending.
That she could survive this.
Even if part of her already knew the truth: she wasn't ready to lose Angela.
Not even a little bit.