My Best Friend Framed Me for Murder

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There's a game going around online. Light a candle in front of a mirror at night, and you'll see the most unforgettable moment of your life.

I did it, full of excitement, and what I saw was myself, locked up in prison.

I couldn't accept it, so I lit another candle.

This time it was me, my best friend, and my boyfriend, celebrating my permanent-hire slot at a hot-pot restaurant.

I handed a slice of cake to a guy at the next table.

But the second he took a bite, he convulsed and dropped to the floor, out cold.

When he came to, he called the police and said I'd poisoned him on purpose.

Before my sentencing, I begged my boyfriend and my best friend to testify for me, crying. They both refused.

"Pauline Fox, you're just too good at everything. This was the only way to get Yvette Pruitt the permanent slot."

The guy sneered too. "Horace James, that was brilliant. Let's see her fight my sister for the slot now!"

Yvette took my spot and got made permanent, and she and Horace became the perfect couple.

I sat in front of that mirror until dawn.

Then Yvette sent me the address for the group dinner that night. A hot-pot restaurant.

I picked up my phone and typed four words. "Wouldn't miss it."

01

Six o'clock, and I arrived right on time.

Inside, everything looked exactly like what I'd seen in the mirror.

Horace and Yvette sat at a table set with a cake, all smiles, waiting to celebrate me. It all looked perfectly normal.

But I knew something had gone rotten long ago.

The moment they saw me, they pulled me down into a seat.

My eyes drifted to the next table, where a few young people sat.

One of them was the guy who was going to eat a bite of cake and collapse.

Every detail confirmed it. What I'd seen in that mirror last night was real.

I'd barely sat down, the broth wasn't even hot yet, when Yvette pressed me. "Pauline, hurry up and cut the cake to celebrate your slot!"

Her voice was loud, like she wanted to be sure the next table heard.

Sure enough, the guy turned and asked me right away. "Hey, let me share in your good luck. Give me a slice of that cake, yeah?"

My heart sank, and something tore inside me, even as the whole thing struck me as absurd.

I didn't pick up the knife. Instead I looked up at him. "Are you a beggar?"

His face went red instantly.

"It's just one slice of cake. Who are you calling a beggar?"

One of the guys at his table backed him up.

"Barret Chavez's asking for a slice as a favor to you. Don't be an ungrateful old woman!"

I was about to fire back when Yvette smoothed things over.

"Pauline, it's just a slice of cake. We can't finish it anyway. Just give it to him."

She still looked so understanding. Only this time I saw straight through to the calculation behind her eyes.

I tugged the corner of my mouth up.

"Sure. Since you're so kind, why don't you go cut him a slice?"

She hadn't expected me to just agree.

After a moment she muttered, "But he didn't ask me to cut it..."

I ignored her, set my bag on the table, and unhurriedly started dropping thin-sliced beef into the pot for myself.

Horace, who hadn't said a word until now, grabbed my chopsticks.

"Yvette doesn't eat organ meat. Don't cook that in the spicy broth."

I looked at his hand blocking mine, then at the fruit-cream cake on the table.

Just like that, my appetite was gone.

I never eat durian. I hold my nose even walking past it in the supermarket.

But Yvette could practically live on it.

So after that, whenever there was cake, it was always durian.

I never made a fuss.

If I wanted something, I could buy it myself. But Yvette's family didn't have money, and she could never bring herself to buy it.

They only got worse, though.

The three of us were in the same intern class at Stellar Design Institute.

But there were only two permanent slots. One for a man, one for a woman.

The day the list came out, Horace told me, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world,

"Give your slot to Yvette. Your family doesn't need the money anyway."

He said it like he was asking me to hand her a bite of food.

That time I didn't cave.

"Horace, getting into the same design firm as my parents has been my dream. I've worked toward this day my whole life."

"And this time I fought through every round to make it to the end."

"And you want me to just hand it to someone else?"

He frowned. "Yvette is your best friend, not someone else!"

"And what about you? Whose side are you speaking from?"

He tossed out, "There's no talking to you," and walked off.

We'd been in a cold war ever since, right up to today.

The steam rising off the pot stung my eyes a little.

Horace fished a slice of thin beef out of the clear broth and set it in my bowl.

"Already cooked it for you."

"Cool it with the temper. You don't even eat durian, so how can you be less generous than Yvette?"

So he did know I didn't eat durian.

But even while he was setting me up, he'd instinctively chosen what Yvette liked.

I put down my chopsticks.

"Yvette this, Yvette that. Are you my boyfriend or hers?"

He and Yvette exchanged a glance, then quickly looked away.

Yvette shot a look at Barret, who'd been standing there frozen.

Only then did he seem to remember what he was supposed to do, slamming his hand down on our table.

Hot broth splashed onto my hand, and it burned enough that I hissed.

But Horace, who normally noticed every little thing, didn't notice at all.

"All right, baby, why bother arguing with a kid."

He pushed the knife into my palm, forced my hand around it, and cut a slice of cake.

Then he gestured for me to bring it to Barret.

I pretended I didn't get it and stood up.

"I'm going to the restroom."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Barret pick up the cake and eat it himself.

I curved my lips. The show was finally starting.