“You don’t know the half of it,” she’d replied.
“You’re trouble,” he’d said, exhaling smoke like a confession.
Because confessions, she’d learned, were the only thing that kept you from disappearing completely. Would you like a darker twist, a more romantic ending, or a continuation of Gina’s journal entries?
At 11:17, her phone buzzed.
Gina Valentina (nicknamed “Vixen” by those who think they know her) Gina checked her phone for the fifth time in ten minutes. No text. No missed call. Just the glow of the lockscreen reflecting her own impatience back at her.
She hated waiting. But that was her role, wasn’t it? The side piece doesn’t set the schedule. The side piece waits.
