Almira's POV
The bass from the speakers rattled Almira's skull like a curse she couldn't shake.
She shouldn't have come.
The hangover from last night's bottle of cheap beer still clung to her temples, throbbing in time with the music that made her want to tear her own ears off.
But God, she came anyway.
She had to.
Her batch's pre-graduation party was in full swing; bodies pressed against bodies, red cups littering every surface, laughter piercing through the haze of smoke and sweat.
Almira stood near the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, scanning the crowd with bloodshot eyes.
And there was only one reason why she would drag her ass through the sea of sweaty bodies that cursed at her when she shoved past them toward the private couches.
Then, she found them.
Maya's hand was on Berto's arm. His head was tilted toward her, lips curving into that smile Almira once thought was hers alone. They looked comfortable. Intimate. As if they'd done this a thousand times before.
Almira's nails dug into her palms.
Maya looked up. The color drained from her face the moment their eyes met. She pulled her hand away from Berto as if burned, her mouth forming words that wouldn't come out.
Berto followed her gaze. His jaw went slack.
"Almira," Maya finally managed, voice pitched too high. "I—I, uh, didn't think you'd come."
"Clearly." Almira's voice came out flatter than she intended. She walked toward them, each step heavier than the last. "We need to talk."
Berto shifted on his feet, jaw tightening. "Not here."
"Here is fine." Almira stopped in front of them both. The music seemed to dull around her, the party fading into static. "Unless you'd rather I announce it to everyone."
Maya grabbed her wrist. But it wasn't the same warmth she used to offer when they were still the best of friends. Her grip was desperate. Clammy. "Please. Let's go somewhere private."
Almira yanked her hand back. "Why? You didn't seem to care about privacy when you were all over him just now."
Maya flinched.
"Almira, don't do this here," Berto muttered, scanning the crowd with nervous eyes. "People are looking."
"Let them look." She held his gaze until he was the first to break. "You weren't shy about it. Why should I be?"
"Please." Maya's voice cracked. "I'm begging you. Just—not here. Not like this."
Almira stared at her for a long moment. The tears pooling in Maya's eyes looked genuine enough. But she wasn't falling for it either.
She clicked her tongue and dropped herself onto the private couch across from them. "Sit."
Maya hesitated before lowering herself beside Berto, their shoulders no longer touching. The distance between them now felt deliberate. Guilty.
The bass from the speakers was softer here, but Almira could still feel it rattling in her chest. Or maybe that was just her heart trying to claw its way out.
She crossed her arms. "So. How long?"
Maya's lips trembled. "Almira—"
"How long, Maya?"
"Three months." The words came out choked. Maya's eyes glistened under the harsh light. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for it to happen—"
"Three months." Almira cut her off and let out a laugh that scraped her throat raw. "You've been sleeping with my boyfriend for three months, and you didn't mean for it to happen?"
"It wasn't like that," Berto finally spoke. He ran a hand through his hair, unable to meet her gaze. "You were never around. You were always busy, always somewhere else…!"
Anger burst into her chest. "Do you even hear yourself, Berto? My grandmother was dying. The both of you knew that."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Maya flinched.
Berto's mouth opened, then closed.
"She had cancer," Almira continued, her voice cracking at the edges despite her best efforts. "Stage four. I watched her waste away for months. I held her hand when she couldn't recognize me anymore. I was there when she took her last breath." Her nails dug into her palms, crescent moons of pain. "And the both of you knew."
"Almi, oh, I'm really sorry," Maya started.
"You're sorry? For what?" Almira's voice rose. "That I'd find out? That I'd care? That maybe, just maybe, I couldn't sleep with him because I was too busy watching the only person who ever loved me rot in a hospital bed? Is that it?"
Maya's tears spilled over, streaming down her cheeks. "I know. I know, and I hate myself for it. I was lonely, and he was there, and I—" She pressed her palms to her face. "There's no excuse. I know there's no excuse."
"Then, why?" Almira's voice broke. "You were my best friend. You were supposed to be the one person I could trust."
"I'm sorry." Maya's shoulders shook. "I'm so sorry, Mira. I don't know how to make this right."
Almira looked away. It was the only way to stop her own tears from falling. "You're right. You fucking can't."
Berto stepped forward, his expression hardening. "You know what? I'm done apologizing." His voice carried an edge that made Almira's stomach twist. "Maybe if you actually paid attention to me instead of pushing me away every single time, things wouldn't have ended this way."
"Don't make this about you," she pointed a finger at him, the crowd growing quiet by the second.
"I was your boyfriend for Christ's sake!" He threw his hands up. "I waited for you. I tried to be there for you, but you shut me out. You shut everyone out. What was I supposed to do?"
"Not sleep with my best friend would've been a good start!"
"You're impossible." He shook his head, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "You always have to be the victim, don't you? Poor Almira, always suffering, always alone. Maybe that's why your lola was the only one who could stand you."
The air left her lungs.
"Berto." Maya's voice was sharp. "Stop it."
"No." He yanked away from her grip before she could even hold him back. "She wants the truth? Here it is." He leaned forward, eyes cold. "You think you're so much better than everyone else. So righteous. So pure. But you're not. You're just a sad, lonely girl who doesn't know how to let anyone in. And the one person who actually loved you is dead."
Almira's hands trembled at her sides.
"You want to know why I went to Maya?" He laughed, hollow and cruel. "Because she was warm. She was there. And you? You were nothing but a ghost who wouldn't even let me touch her."
Maya pressed her hand to her mouth, tears streaming down her face. "Berto, please. That's enough."
"It's the truth." He heaved, eyes filled with nothing but anger. "She asked. I answered."
The words hit like a slap.
Almira's vision blurred. She blinked rapidly, forcing the tears back down her throat where they burned like acid.
A ghost.
Is that what she was to him? All those late night calls when she sobbed into the phone about her lola's declining health. All those times she apologized for canceling dates because she needed to stay at the hospital. All those moments she thought he understood.
He was just waiting. Counting the days until she would finally open her legs for him.
And when she didn't, he found someone who would.
Three years. Three years of thinking she had someone who loved her through the worst days of her life. Three years of holding herself together because she thought, at the very least, she had him. She had Maya.
She had no one.
Her nails bit into her palms, the sting grounding her before she could shatter completely. She would not cry. Not here. Not in front of them. They didn't deserve to see her break.
They never deserved her at all.
"We're done," she said quietly. "Both of you. I don't want to see either of your faces again."
"Almira, he doesn't mean those things," Maya reached for her. "He's drunk and he's not in his right state of mind! Believe me!"
"Don't. There's nothing to believe after what you've done to me."
She stepped back, hurt a shadow in her tear-stained eyes.
"Don't touch me. Don't call me. Don't pretend like any of this mattered to you."
Almira turned and walked away before either of them could respond. Her legs felt like they belonged to someone else, carrying her through the crowd of bodies that parted without noticing her, through the laughter and the music and the smoke that choked her lungs.
She hated this. She hated them. She hated herself for ever believing she could have something good.
The front door was only a few feet away when she heard it.
A sound like drums. Low and deep, reverberating through her chest.
Almira froze.
No one else seemed to notice. The party continued around her—people dancing, drinking, living their careless lives as if the world wasn't pulsing with that strange, rhythmic pounding.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Her head split open with pain.
She pressed her palms against her ears, teeth gritting so hard she thought they might crack. The drumming grew louder, more insistent, drowning out the music, drowning out everything until all she could hear was that relentless beat echoing through her skull.
"Stop," she whispered. "Stop, stop, stop—"
Yellow light traced the walls.
It started as thin lines, like cracks in reality itself, spreading across the ceiling and down the doorframe. The air grew thick, electric, tasting of copper and something ancient she couldn't name.
Someone screamed.
Or maybe that was her.
The front door exploded inward, splinters of wood flying like shrapnel.
And then the world split open beneath her feet.