Seven words

The next morning arrived with a sky the color of old bruises-soft purple fading into a cold gray. Mara sat at her kitchen table, stirring her coffee long after the sugar had dissolved. She wasn't thinking about sweetness. She was thinking about pieces-people-how they moved, how they reacted, how they broke.

Her phone buzzed.

Tessa: Can we talk again? I... I haven't slept.

Mara's lips curved into a small, unreadable smile.

Good.

Cracks were forming.

She answered simply: Same place. Noon.

She didn't need to push Tessa; guilt had already hollowed her out. And hollow people were easy to shape.

The Finch Coffeehouse - Noon

The place hummed with its usual background noise-keyboards clacking, milk steaming, two people arguing quietly about screenplay ideas that would never be finished. Tessa sat at their table already, anxiously rubbing her thumb along the seam of her cup.

Mara approached with measured calm, setting her bag down before taking the seat across from her.

"You look tired," Mara said.

Tessa let out a soft, shaky laugh. "Yeah... well. A lot happened."

Mara tilted her head. "Did it? Because from where I'm sitting, not much happened at all. No screaming. No drama. No consequences yet."

The statement made Tessa flinch.

Good-fear, shame, unease-they would shape her into the ally Mara needed.

"I didn't know about the wedding," Tessa blurted. "I swear, I didn't. He... he told me things were ending between you two. That he was staying with you because it would be 'messy' otherwise."

Mara's expression didn't reveal anything. She just took a sip of her coffee.

"Does that matter now?" she asked quietly.

Tessa blinked, caught off guard. "I... I hoped it might."

"Nothing erases what you did. But," Mara continued, leaning back in her chair, "it doesn't mean you can't be useful."

Tessa stared. "Useful?"

"Yes." Mara folded her hands. "I'm not looking for an apology. I'm looking for information."

Tessa swallowed hard. "About Marcus."

"Exactly."

A long silence stretched between them. Tessa looked down at her cup as though the coffee might give her courage.

"What do you want to know?" she whispered.

"Everything."