= Sarah POV =
I was livid. Pacing up and down in the living room, I replayed the day's events in my head, each memory stoking the fire of my frustration. Chris had finally fallen asleep after I dragged her to her own bedroom. She'd clung to me, crying and whimpering like a lost child until I let her hold me. I'd stayed there, stiff and restless, until she drifted off.
She'd gone out, gotten drunk, inconvenienced everyone, and then still demanded my comfort to calm down. My comfort. And now here I was, exhausted and seething, with work looming in just a few hours.
I didn't know who else to call, so I dialled Heather's number.
"I can't come in tomorrow. I'm—"
"It's fine," Heather interrupted, her voice sharp and tired. "Ruby already told me what happened. She also told me Amber was the one supplying the alcohol. Whatever Amber brought must've been from home—some bottle Ruby found was almost 90% alcohol. We don't even stock anything that strong."
"Wait... you're up? And—are those brakes? Are you outside?" I frowned, suddenly uneasy. "You're not going to see Amber, are you?"
"Well, if not me, then who?" Heather said, her tone calm but clipped. "Look, Sarah, I've got to go. You take the day off too. I probably won't be in the office either. Talk to you later."
The line went dead before I could respond. I stared at my phone, dread pooling in my stomach. Heather was walking into the lion's den, but she didn't sound angry or afraid. So why was I? Why was I so furious with Chris?
I walked back to her room, standing in the doorway, and looked at her curled up on the bed. She seemed so small, so vulnerable. This was the same Chris who had always been the strong, reliable one—the one who never faltered, who was always there for me. Even when I didn't deserve it.
Sure, she'd lied to me. She'd orchestrated situations to control me, to keep me close. But it wasn't like she'd dictated every part of my life. I'd still moved out when I wanted to, dated who I wanted, and drifted apart from her after college. Yet no matter how far we drifted, whenever I turned back, she was there—steady and waiting, always ready to pick up the pieces.
Her motives weren't always pure, but whose are? At least hers came from a place of devotion, not malice. If I ever developed feelings for her—and I wasn't saying I would—at least I'd know she'd return them tenfold.
I sat down at the edge of the bed, my hands balling into fists. The truth was, the person I was really angry at was myself. When Chris finally needed me, I judged her. I let her stumble through this mess alone, even after everything she'd done for me. She'd supported me through every bad decision, every heartbreak. And here I was, resenting her for a single moment of weakness. Some friend I was.
I thought back to all the times she'd quietly meddled in my life, her schemes so subtle I didn't even realize what she was doing until years later. Yet even those moments—carefully timed "accidents" with my exes or her overzealous hospitality—never led to harm. She'd never forced my hand; she'd just... nudged me. And somehow, I kept coming back to her. To her meticulously cooked meals, her open arms, and her unwavering presence. Maybe I wasn't the victim here. Maybe Chris wasn't the only one clinging to someone for stability.
I stood up and sighed, glancing at her one last time. She looked so peaceful now, a stark contrast to the wreck she'd been earlier. But the truth was clear—I needed to leave. This wasn't healthy. Not for her, and not for me.
As much as Chris had used me as her security blanket, I'd been doing the same to her. And that needed to stop.
Returning to my room, I dragged my suitcase out from under the bed. I didn't know where I'd go or how long I'd be gone, but I needed to sort myself out. For both our sakes.