Chapter 5: Fractures and Mirrors
It started with a coffee spill.
I had just taken my first sip when I heard the door to the café chime.
I didn't need to turn around.
Her voice pierced the quiet like a fork on porcelain.
"Lina? Is that really you?"
My shoulders tensed.
Slowly, I turned.
She looked different. Blonder. Tighter.
Her hair was bleached to a perfect icy sheen, styled with the precision of someone who couldn't bear to be caught off guard.
Her clothes screamed expensive effortlessness. Her eyes, though, were the same—sharp, too alert.
"Sandra," I said flatly.
She embraced me before I could move away.
Her perfume was overpowering, familiar in a nauseating way.
It brought back memories of double dates, wine nights, secrets shared at 2 a.m.—and betrayal.
"Oh my God, look at you! You look… well. Different. Ash-blonde? Didn't expect that."
I gave a strained smile. "Change suits some of us."
She laughed, too loudly. "So true. So true."
Just then, Jonas walked in, casually confident as always.
He caught my eye and raised his cup in greeting, unaware of the storm brewing at my table.
Sandra's eyes followed mine and widened. "Well, hello… Who is that?"
I didn't answer.
"Don't tell me you've finally moved on.
God, I always told Klemen you'd land on your feet. He never listened.
But he was heartbroken, you know. Totally destroyed."
The words hit like stones. I bit the inside of my cheek.
"He made mistakes, sure, but… you were never easy either, Lina. So cold sometimes. I mean, maybe he felt pushed away."
That was when Jonas approached, placing his coffee next to mine. He offered Sandra a polite nod.
"Hi, I'm Jonas. We work together."
Sandra practically purred. "Oh really? I'm Sandra, Lina's old friend. We go way back. Don't we, Lina?"
"Not far enough," I murmured.
Jonas' eyes met mine for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.
He must have sensed something. The silence between Sandra and me stretched, bitter and thin.
He stayed by my side, as if by instinct.
"We should get going, Lina," he said softly. "That meeting prep won't do itself."
"Right," I said, and turned without another word.
Sandra's voice followed us out. "Be careful with that one, Jonas. She runs when things get hard."
I didn't flinch. Not then. But in the elevator, I pressed my hand to the cold metal wall to keep myself from shaking.
That afternoon, the office buzzed with our usual weekly review.
Sabrina had prepared a presentation. I watched in stunned silence as slide after slide mirrored the work I'd done—the research, the structure, even the phrasing.
Jonas raised a brow. Then he stood.
"Before we go on," he said, voice calm but clear, "I'd like to acknowledge Lina's outstanding contributions to this segment.
Much of what you're seeing here is the result of her work."
The room hushed.
Sabrina stiffened. "Of course, I was going to mention—"
"Of course," Jonas said smoothly, then turned back to the screen.
Later, when the meeting ended, I caught his eye.
"Thank you," I said, the words small but real.
He shrugged. "I just told the truth."
But that moment—him standing up for me—it settled somewhere deep inside.
Something shifted.
Not yet trust. But the beginning of something close.