Angie had hesitated for a long time before stepping out the door.
The paper bag she was holding in her hands contained a bar of dark praline chocolate—Jessica's favorite. A small, seemingly innocent gesture. A friendly gift. But that morning, within the walls of her apartment, Angie had spent over an hour trying to decide. Go or not go? Face Jessica? Pretend nothing had happened?
In the end, she had put on a beige sweater, tied her hair back, and taken a deep breath.
She had nothing to feel guilty about. Or at least, that's what she kept repeating to herself ever since she'd left Grégory's apartment. It was just a kiss. A moment of weakness. Nothing more.
She knew it was a lie.
But she wasn't ready to face the truth. Not Jessica. Not herself.
She knocked gently at the door.
A few seconds later, Jessica appeared, her hair damp and hastily tied up, wearing an oversized t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Her eyes squinted slightly with surprise.
— Angie?
Angie offered a faint, almost cheerful smile.
— I thought you could use a little pick-me-up after your return… I brought this, she said, handing over the chocolate bar.
Jessica took it, visibly touched.
— My favorite… You always remember. You're so sweet.
— I try, Angie said with a shrug.
Jessica opened the door wider.
— Come in, come on. Want some tea? Or coffee? I've even got some white wine left if you feel like something stronger.
Angie chuckled softly.
— Tea sounds perfect.
She stepped inside, her heart pounding. Every step felt like walking a tightrope. The apartment hadn't changed. The same mismatched cushions on the sofa, the photo frames on the wall, the soft jasmine scent Jessica loved.
But the air felt different.
Jessica set the chocolate bar on the coffee table and busied herself in the open kitchen. She talked a lot. About the train, the delays, the rain, the noisy people in her car. Angie nodded, asked a few questions, laughed at times. She played her role well. Too well, maybe.
She clung to that lightness like a lifeline.
When the tea was ready, they settled on the couch, legs tucked underneath them, like they used to. Like two old friends. Angie gently bit into a square of chocolate, feigning nonchalance, controlling every gesture, every glance.
— And you, how have you been? Jessica finally asked, eyeing her more closely.
That question disarmed her more than she expected.
— Me? Oh… nothing special. Busy week at work. Met up with some old friends. Nothing exciting.
She was lying. Lying with a fluency that scared her.
Jessica smiled, not pushing further. She sipped her tea, seemingly at peace.
— You know, getting away did me good. But I'm still glad to be back. I missed Grégory, she admitted softly.
Angie felt a sharp pain in her chest.
— He must've been happy to see you again, she replied simply.
— Yeah… He was a little distant at first, but you know how he is. He has trouble expressing things. But then, we reconnected. Like before. Nothing really changed.
Angie nodded, her eyes on her cup.
But everything had changed.
And yet, in that softly lit room, between two silences, she managed to smile. To play along. To act as if nothing had happened.
They chatted a bit more, light topics, plans, memories. Then Angie made up an excuse and stood up.
— Thanks for the tea. And enjoy your chocolate, she said, grabbing her bag.
Jessica walked her to the door.
— Thanks for coming by. It really made me happy.
Angie gave her one last smile. Genuine and aching at once.
— Me too.
When she finally stepped outside, the air felt cooler, heavier. She inhaled deeply. But no breath could erase the sting of guilt.
She descended a few steps, pulling her jacket tighter, and was about to round the corner when a familiar figure appeared before her.
Grégory.
He looked startled. Hands in his pockets, gaze uncertain. They stood frozen for a moment, facing each other.
— Angie…
— Grégory…
She lowered her eyes. But he stepped forward, slowly.
— Were you just at our place?
— Yes. I saw Jessica. I brought her some chocolate.
He nodded silently.
— Do you have five minutes? he asked.
They walked without speaking, to a small quiet café two blocks away. They sat inside, across from each other, by a large window. A waiter brought their drinks, but neither touched their cup.
Angie stared at her hands. They trembled slightly.
— I shouldn't have come to your place, she said softly.
— You had every right. You're her friend.
She looked up at him.
— I'm not just her friend anymore. And you know it. I'm also the one who… who crossed a line with you.
Grégory looked away. He said nothing.
— That kiss, she continued, was a mistake. A real one. I'm ashamed, Grégory. Every time I look into her eyes.
He straightened slightly, as if to respond.
— You weren't the only one who wanted it.
— Maybe. But that doesn't excuse it. She loves you. She trusts you. She trusts us… our friendship. And we betrayed her.
The word hung in the air like a blade.
Grégory rubbed his face, visibly troubled.
— Do you regret it? he whispered.
Angie hesitated, then sighed.
— Yes… and no. I regret that it happened. But not what I felt. And that's the worst part.
He turned his gaze toward the street.
— I don't know where I stand anymore. Since that kiss… I feel hollow. And guilty.
She placed her hand on the table, not too close to his.
— We need distance, Grégory. Before this becomes irreparable.
He nodded slowly. But in his eyes, something had broken.
— Take care of her. Promise me?
He looked at her, eyes filled with sadness.
— I promise.
And this time, she left for good.