Biting the edge of her nail, Minnie stared out the window, watching the birds soar freely in the sky. For a brief moment, she wondered what it would feel like to be them—to escape the weight of her troubles and have nothing but open skies ahead of her.
She sat on the edge of her bed, her legs pulled up against her chest, the faint hum of traffic below filling the silence of her small apartment. The late morning light streamed through the window, illuminating the tangle of sheets she hadn't bothered to fix. She hadn't slept much, anyway.
Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her thoughts. She glanced down and saw Ethan's name flashing on the screen. Her chest tightened. He was calling Ruby.
Her finger hovered over the screen, debating whether or not to answer. The rational part of her wanted to let it go to voicemail. She knew she shouldn't pick up—the more time she spent with him, the harder it became to keep her distance.
But she answered. She always did.
"Hey, you." Her voice came out softer than she intended, with that honeyed tone Ruby was so good at, the voice she had perfected over the years. But her throat ached with the effort.
"Hey." Ethan's voice was low, gravelly with exhaustion. Even through the phone, she could hear the subtle weariness in his words. She imagined him in his office, leaning back in that sleek leather chair, rubbing his temples the way he did when he was stressed. She wanted to be there—to soothe him, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips.
"You sound tired. Long day?" she asked, forcing her voice to remain light. She knew what he would say before he even said it.
"Yeah, just swamped. But hearing your voice helps."
Her throat tightened. He meant it. The tenderness in his voice made her eyes sting. She closed her eyes, gripping the phone harder, as if it might somehow keep him closer.
"You doing okay?" he asked softly.
No. She wasn't. But she couldn't tell him that.
"I am now," she lied.
Ethan exhaled quietly, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. It was that sort of silence she loved—the one that felt easy and familiar. The kind that didn't need to be filled with words. She could imagine him there with her, his hand resting on her thigh, his breath warm against her neck.
But the fantasy was fleeting. It was always fleeting. Because Ruby wasn't real. She was just a mask. And Ethan didn't know the woman underneath it.
"I was thinking maybe we could have dinner tonight," he said, breaking the silence. His voice was hopeful, almost hesitant. It made her heart lurch.
"Dinner? Tonight?" she repeated, her voice suddenly smaller.
"Yeah. Just you and me. Somewhere quiet. I want to see you."
She squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to say yes. She almost did. But her stomach twisted with guilt, with the knowledge that he was falling for a woman who didn't exist.
"I can't," she blurted.
There was a brief pause on the line. His breath caught, and she knew she had surprised him. She never said no.
"Oh. That's... okay. Another night, then?" His voice was still soft, but she could hear the subtle disappointment laced beneath it.
Her chest squeezed painfully. She hated herself for it. For hurting him.
"Yeah. Another night," she whispered promising something that she didn't know if she could uphold.
They lingered in silence for a moment longer, neither of them wanting to hang up. But eventually, Ethan muttered a quiet goodbye, and the line went dead. It felt more hollow than she thought it would feel.
Minnie stared at the phone in her hand long after the call ended. Her throat felt tight, her chest hollow.
She pressed the phone against her forehead and exhaled sharply. What the hell was she doing?
"Aren't you going to class?"
Ellie's voice startled her. Minnie turned to see her roommate sitting up in bed, looking disheveled and half-asleep. Ellie rubbed her eyes and yawned loudly, eyeing her with concern.
"It's past eleven, Min. You're not going?"
Minnie shrugged, feigning indifference. "Not today."
Ellie frowned. Minnie never skipped class.
"Is Everything okay?" Ellie asked.
Minnie stared at her friend, unsure whether she could actually answer that honestly. She opened her mouth, but no words came. She didn't even know where to begin.
She sighed and turned away. "Yeah. Just tired."
Ellie rubbed her face and swung her legs off the bed, walking over. She sat down beside Minnie and nudged her gently.
"You're lying. "
The bluntness of the statement startled Minnie. She swallowed hard, her fingers clenching the blanket beneath her.
"Ellie, I think I've gotten too close to him," she admitted softly, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.
Ellie blinked, processing. Her brows furrowed. "You mean... Ethan? The billionaire guy?"
Minnie nodded, her throat tightening again. She couldn't meet Ellie's gaze.
Ellie's voice softened. "You've... caught feelings for him?"
The words made Minnie flinch. She felt exposed, like a raw nerve. She nodded weakly, feeling ashamed, as if the confession itself was something dirty.
"Oh, Minnie..." Ellie's tone was gentle, but her eyes were filled with concern. She tucked her legs beneath her, facing Minnie fully. "You can't do that."
"I know."
"No, I mean it. You—" Ellie exhaled sharply, raking a hand through her hair. "He doesn't know who you really are. You're going to get your heart broken. Or worse—he's going to hate you when he finds out*"
The words hit like a punch to the chest. Hate. Ethan was kind, but she knew Ellie was right. He would hate her. He really did not know who she is... he liked who she had made herself up to be.
The weight of the truth pressed down on her. She pulled her knees closer to her chest and buried her face against them.
"I didn't mean for this to happen," she whispered, "It's just when... when he's there; I feel like a person again. All these nights with random men...men who don't care who I am. Men who hate themselves enough to need me but with him...."
Ellie's expression softened. She reached over and squeezed Minnie's hand.
"I'm sorry..."
For a while, neither of them spoke. Ellie stayed beside her, offering the only comfort she could—her presence.
Eventually, Minnie exhaled and sat up, wiping at her eyes.
"You want to get out of here? Go shopping or something?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood. She needed to move. To breathe. To feel something other than the ache in her chest.
Ellie's lips quirked into a small smile. "You're really going to make me spend money today?"
"You know you love it," Minnie teased weakly.
Ellie snorted and grabbed her purse. "Fine. But we're getting coffee first."
The boutique Ellie dragged her to was sleek and high-end, with racks of designer coats and boots lined neatly against mirrored walls. The place smelled faintly of vanilla and leather, the kind of store that charged absurd prices for scarves that barely covered your neck.
"Ooh, try this one." Ellie held up a deep red coat and smirked mischievously. "Very femme fatale."
Minnie smirked but took the coat, running her fingers over the rich fabric. She didn't need it. She didn't need any of this. But she played along, slipping into the fitting room and putting it on. She had to, if she did not she would cry and that was just not desirable.
She stared at herself in the mirror. The woman looking back was flawless, elegant. Ruby would wear this coat. Ruby would turn heads.
But Minnie? Minnie wasn't glamorous. She was messy and broken and afraid. The woman in the mirror wasn't real.
"You look amazing," Ellie declared when she emerged, twirling Minnie around.
Minnie forced a smile, but the weight in her chest remained.
After shopping, Minnie made one last stop. Her mother's house.
Her hands trembled slightly as she stepped out of the cab. The house was small and weathered, the paint peeling from years of neglect. She clutched the bag of clothes she had bought for her mom, hoping—foolishly—that this time would be different.
But when she reached the front steps, her stomach plummeted.
There was a large sign on the door.
"Foreclosed by Bank. Property no longer under owner's possession."
Minnie stared at it, the words blurring together.
Her hands tightened around the bag. She had been too late. Again.
Her throat constricted, but she didn't cry. She simply turned and walked away.
The sun was still shining. The birds were still flying. But she felt heavier than ever.