With a deep breath, I stepped out into the bustling streets of Napoli City, the sun casting a warm, golden glow over the crowded sidewalks. People hurried by, each lost in their own world, as vendors called out to passersby, trying to sell everything from fresh produce to handmade jewelry. The air was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries, the scents mingling in a comforting, familiar way that reminded me of simpler times.
As my stomach grumbled, a pang of anxiety tightened in my chest, a sharp reminder of my dwindling funds and my nearly empty fridge. I needed a job-urgently. Quickening my pace, I scanned each storefront, my eyes searching for any 'Help Wanted' signs as I weaved through the throng. Maybe today would be different. Maybe today, I'd finally find a way out of this mess.
After hours of walking with nothing to show for it, fatigue settled heavily in my legs. I found myself near a small park and decided to rest. Sinking onto a weathered wooden bench, I watched families and couples stroll by, laughter and conversation filling the crisp air. Nearby, a young boy with chubby cheeks and sticky fingers clung to his dripping ice cream cone, his face lit up with innocent joy. For a moment, I felt a longing for a time when life was uncomplicated, when happiness didn't feel so far away.
I caught myself staring at the boy's ice cream a little too long, and a voice in the back of my mind nudged me, "Wow, Bella, considering stealing ice cream from a kid? That's a new low."
"Oh, shut up," I muttered under my breath. Hunger does strange things to a person.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice a guy approaching until he was standing right in front of me. He cleared his throat, his tone annoyingly smug. "Hey. Can I get your number?"
I blinked, momentarily taken aback by the intrusion. Seriously? Of all times? "No," I replied curtly, hoping he'd get the hint.
"Why not?" he persisted, clearly not picking up on my irritation.
I sighed, my patience wearing thin. "I have a boyfriend," I said, my tone flat.
He seemed undeterred. "We can still be friends..."
"Piss off, asshole," I snapped, my voice louder than intended. His mouth dropped open, clearly unprepared for my blunt rejection.
He mumbled something under his breath about "crazy bitches" as he stomped away. Ignoring him, I turned my gaze back to the park, letting the peaceful scene distract me. But the moment was already tainted, and I felt a rising urge to leave. It was getting dark anyway. I dragged myself back to my feet and headed home, buying a sandwich along the way to stave off the worst of my hunger.
When I finally reached my apartment, I fumbled with my keys, ready to collapse on my bed. But as I turned the lock, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Scarlet. Instantly, a guilty pang hit me-I hadn't told her I got fired. I could practically feel her fury if she found out I'd kept it from her. Knowing Scarlet, she'd drag me right back to the club to "punch some sense" into my ex-boss.
Voicemail would have to do.
I let the call ring out, then quickly texted her.
Me: Hey bff, I saw your missed call. Sorry, today's been hectic. I'll call you when I get back.
Her reply came almost instantly, a single emoji-a knife. I chuckled. That's my crazy best friend.
I've never met anyone quite like Scarlet. From the moment we met, I felt like I was standing in the shadow of someone bigger than life itself. She had this fire about her-something bright and undeniable. At twelve, I didn't know what to make of her. I was the quiet, reserved girl who kept to herself. She was the opposite-a whirlwind of energy, always laughing, always speaking her mind.
It was in the schoolyard where we first crossed paths. I was sitting alone on the swing, watching the other kids run around, when she came up to me with her usual grin. "You look like you're about to fall asleep out here," she teased, plopping herself down beside me without hesitation.
I hadn't been expecting anyone to talk to me. I wasn't used to people just walking up and starting conversations. But there was something about her, something disarming in the way she threw herself into everything without reservation. She didn't wait for permission; she just was.
"You should come with me," she said, eyes twinkling with mischief. "There's a jump rope contest. You can be my partner."
I stared at her, unsure of how to respond. I wasn't much for jumping rope, let alone making a fool of myself in front of everyone. But there was no way I could say no. Her energy was infectious, and before I knew it, I was in the middle of the schoolyard, awkwardly trying to match her pace. We didn't win, of course. I tripped halfway through, and Scarlet just laughed-loudly, unapologetically.
"You're a good sport," she told me after, clapping me on the back as if we'd just conquered the world. I remember feeling strange then-strange but good. No one had ever made me feel like I was part of something, like I was enough. But Scarlet, in her unassuming way, made me feel seen. It was effortless with her, and I couldn't help but gravitate towards her every time I saw her after that.
Over the years, our bond deepened. While I stayed the same-quiet, introverted-Scarlet seemed to grow even bolder, her circle expanding, her charisma making her the center of attention wherever she went. She was the kind of person who walked into a room and instantly made it feel warmer, brighter. She made everything feel possible, even for someone like me.
We balanced each other perfectly. She would drag me to parties I didn't want to go to, convince me to try new things, and always, always make me laugh when I was too serious. In return, I was her calm, her sounding board when things got overwhelming, her steady support. When the world seemed too chaotic, she would call me in the middle of the night, pouring her heart out about whatever wild idea she was obsessed with. And I'd listen-because that's what friends do.
No matter how wild her ideas got, no matter how many times she pushed me out of my comfort zone, I never doubted her. There was something pure in her loyalty, something solid that made me believe she would never let me down. Scarlet was the kind of friend who showed up when you needed her most. She never judged, never hesitated to stand by me, even when my life seemed like it was falling apart.
She had a way of making me feel like I mattered-like I was enough.
And I believed, without a doubt, that our friendship was unbreakable.
After finishing my sandwich, I took a quick shower, letting the warm water wash away the stress of the day. I was scrolling mindlessly through my phone when another text popped up. This one was from James.
James: Where are you?
A sense of dread bubbled up, and I hesitated before replying.
Me: Sorry, babe. I'm at work right now.
Conscience: Nice one, Bella. Just dig that hole a little deeper.
James: Lunch tomorrow?
I agreed. After agreeing to lunch with James, the guilt gnawed at me, my lies stacking up like a wall I was cornered behind. I knew I'd have to tell him eventually. As much as I dreaded the conversation, it felt inevitable-like a storm you see gathering on the horizon. After hours of pacing, I finally hailed a cab and headed to his place, rehearsing my confession over and over in my mind. The cab driver kept glancing back, probably noticing my fidgeting hands and shallow breaths.
When we pulled up to his building, I forced myself out, gripping my phone tightly as though it might keep me steady. I knew James would be shocked to see me, especially once he realize I'd lied to him. He hated dishonesty. My heart pounded, each step up to his door heavier than the last. I paused just outside, taking a deep breath to steel myself. I stood there like a statue, constructing my sentence in my head. I contemplated how to explain myself without provoking his anger. But as I reached for the doorknob, I heard something-a faint sound, muffled and rhythmic.
For a second, I told myself I was imagining things. Maybe it was the neighbors, or the TV. But the sound grew louder, unmistakably intimate, filling me with a slow, creeping dread. My pulse quickened, and I felt cold all over, a terrible suspicion gnawing at the edges of my mind.
"No," I whispered to myself, shaking my head. "No, he wouldn't..."
With a sense of trepidation, I opened the door without knocking. What I saw left me speechless. The sight before me was like a punch to the gut. James was on the bed with a woman on top of him, their body entwined in a way that made my stomach turn. And they were clearly enjoying themselves. I felt like I was intruding on a private moment, yet I couldn't look away. My eyes locked onto James; and for a moment, we just starred at each other. He froze, I saw a flash of guilt, of shame, before he quickly looked away. The woman on the other hand, seemed oblivious to my presence. She continued to move, her moan filling the air, until she finally noticed me, and in that instant, my world collapsed. It was Scarlet, my best friend. Her eyes grew wide as she called out to me, "Bella!" She quickly wrapped herself in the blanket, trying to cover up. "Bella, it's not what it looks like," she said,her voice trembling.
But I knew exactly what it looked like. It was a nightmare-each seconds stretching into an eternity of betrayal and hurt. I thought of all the times James had told me he loved me, all the times scarlet has called me her best friend. It was all a lie.
I took a step back, my eyes fixed on the bed, trying to process what I was seeing.
James stood up, putting on his boxers, and moved towards me. "Bella, let me explain," he said, I didn't want to hear their excuses, their justification. So I cut him off. My brain went blank as I stared at them both. Their voices were like an echo in my head. "Bella, isn't what it looks like," Scarlet said again, but I wasn't buying it. Does she think I'm stupid?
Taking a deep breath, I fought to keep my voice steady, the shattered pieces of my heart hidden behind cold words."Do you guys have to get caught? Next time, lock the door, and Scarlet, your moaning is too loud." They stared at me, dumbfounded, clearly not expecting my calm reaction. I wanted to scream, to ask them why they chose to hurt me this way, but my heart was too broken. Instead, I turned and walked out of the room, tears blurring my vision.
I couldn't breathe; my pain was choking me. Feeling the cold breeze on my skin, I knew I was outside. My head was spinning as I heard James calling out to me. "Bella!" He was trying to catch up with me, fully dressed now. "Bella, I'm sorry..." I stopped and turned to face him. "When did it start?" I demanded. James hesitated before answering, "When you started working at the club." That was six months ago. They've been playing me, pretending to care while they were screwing behind my back.
James explained,"Bella, you said you weren't ready to have sex.We've been dating for two years, and I... I just couldn't wait any longer. "I stared at James, disgust etched on my face. "You said you would wait till I was ready," I said, my voice cold and detached. "You lied." James tried to justify himself, but I wasn't having it. "Bella, I'm a man; I need it; I'm not a virgin like you, so it's hard..." I cut him off, not wanting to hear his excuses."Congratulations James, you and scarlet deserves each other.
Without waiting for his respond, I turned and walked away. Each step felt like wading through quicksand, as if pausing would pulled me under. But I kept walking, one step after another, until the world blurred with my pain."