Morning arrives hazy, heavy with the weight of all that's been said — and all that hasn't.
Vanessa lies in bed, the sheets tangled around her. Her phone buzzes on the nightstand. Daniella. A pang of guilt rises. She hadn't called her last night, even though she promised. After the confrontation with Richard, she hadn't had the energy to recount anything. To speak at all.
She lets it ring twice before answering.
"Hey," she murmurs, voice scratchy with sleep.
"I waited for your call," Daniella says, her tone quiet but warm. "Figured you might need space."
Vanessa exhales, rubbing her eyes. "I'm sorry. I… I just couldn't."
"I get it," Daniella responds. "How did it go with Richard?"
Vanessa closes her eyes. She could lie, skip the pain, say "fine." But there's no point.
"It was awful," she admits, voice tight. "I told him everything. About Rafael. About the pregnancy. And he… he snapped. I've never seen him like that."
