Ms. Deloera

𝓔ssay 12

It takes a second.

The restaurant is dim enough that faces blur together at first. Low light, glass reflections, the soft movement of servers passing between tables.

Then I see her.

Celeste is sitting near the windows.

Black dress. Straight posture. One arm resting along the table beside her glass. Even from across the room, she looks exactly the same as she does everywhere else, composed, still, like the room arranges itself around her instead of the other way around.

Across from her sits a woman with ginger hair.

The color catches the light immediately. Copper against the warm lamps above the table.

For a moment, I just look.

Something about her feels familiar.

Then I remember.

The bar.

That night with Jade and Marcus. Celeste near the entrance, hugging someone quickly before leaving. The same hair. The same sharp profile.

I turn back around.

Too fast.

My fingers curl loosely around the stem of my wine glass.

"You saw them?" Ava asks.

"Yeah."

I take a small sip of wine. It tastes heavier than it did a minute ago.

"Who's the woman?" I ask.

Ava glances behind me again, quick and casual.

"That's Lucía."

The name doesn't mean anything to me.

"She's Celeste's best friend," Ava continues, lowering her voice slightly. "And her lawyer."

Lawyer.

That makes sense.

Lucía doesn't look like someone who waits for instructions. Even from across the room, she carries herself like she's aware of everything around her.

"Is she... nice?" I ask.

Ava shrugs lightly.

"Sometimes."

That answer doesn't clarify anything.

I glance back again before I can stop myself.

Lucía is speaking now. Her hands move a little when she talks. Celeste watches her without interrupting, head tilted slightly, the way she listens when something actually holds her attention.

The candle between Ava and me flickers when a server walks past the table.

I look down at my plate.

The steak is still warm. The knife rests exactly where I left it.

"You okay?" Ava asks.

"Yeah."

She nods and goes back to eating.

For a moment, neither of us says anything.

The restaurant sounds louder now.

Glasses clinking. A low laugh from somewhere near the bar. The quiet shuffle of someone pulling out a chair two tables over.

I tell myself not to look again.

I do anyway.

Lucía's eyes lift first.

Even from across the room, I can tell she's looking directly at me.

She leans toward Celeste and says something quietly.

Celeste turns.

Our eyes meet.

There's no expression on her face.

Not surprise.

Not curiosity.

Just recognition.

Like she expected to see me somewhere eventually.

Then she looks back at Lucía and continues talking.

I lower my gaze to the table again.

My fingers trace the edge of the napkin without thinking.

Jealousy is an annoying feeling.

Small.

Sharp.

And completely unreasonable.

Celeste can sit in a restaurant with whoever she wants.

Still, I can't stop thinking about the way Lucía leaned closer when she spoke.

About the way Celeste listened.

Ava takes another sip of wine.

"Don't stare too much," she says quietly.

"I'm not."

"You were."

I pick up my fork again.

The restaurant suddenly feels warmer than it did earlier.

Not uncomfortable.

Just different.

And somewhere across the room, Celeste is still sitting exactly where she was.

The waiter clears the plates.

The candle between us burns lower now, the flame thinner than before. Wax has started to collect at the base.

Ava thanks him and shifts her chair slightly when he leaves.

For a moment, we just sit there.

The restaurant has changed since we arrived. Not empty, but quieter. Some tables are gone. Others are finishing drinks instead of food. The air smells faintly like sugar and coffee now.

I trace the rim of my glass with my finger.

Across the room, Celeste is still sitting with Lucía.

I don't look directly.

I don't have to.

I know exactly where their table is.

Ava taps her finger lightly against her glass.

"So," she says.

"What?"

"Are we getting dessert or what?"

Ava is looking at me like she's a spoiled five-year-old telling her mom she wants ice cream.

I glance down at the table.

For a second, the thought crosses my mind that I don't need dessert.

It would be easy to say no. Easy to wave the menu away when the waiter comes back.

But I push the thought aside almost immediately.

I'm not sitting here explaining myself. Not tonight.

"Yes," I say.

Ava smiles right away.

"Yay."

The waiter appears a moment later and sets two dessert menus on the table.

The paper is thick and smooth when I open it. Candlelight reflects along the edge.

Chocolate cake.

Crème br?lée.

Something with caramel and sea salt.

Ava barely looks at hers.

"I already know what I'm getting," she says.

"That was fast."

"I came prepared."

I pretend to read the menu longer than necessary.

Across the room, I can still feel where Celeste is sitting.

I haven't looked again.

At least not obviously.

"You know," Ava says suddenly.

"What?"

She tilts her head slightly.

"You keep staring over there like someone stole something of yours."

I immediately look up at her.

"Wait, what? I'm not."

"You kind of are."

"I looked once."

Ava smiles into her glass.

"More than once."

I ignore that.

"Chocolate cake," I say, closing the menu.

"Excellent choice."

The waiter returns and takes the order quickly before disappearing again.

For a moment, we sit quietly.

The restaurant hums softly around us. Someone laughs near the bar. A chair shifts against the floor somewhere behind me.

I reach for my wine again.

Across the room, Lucía leans forward slightly, saying something to Celeste.

Celeste listens without moving much, the same way she does at work. Calm. Focused.

I look back at the candle.

Ava watches me for a second.

"You're literally looking again," she murmurs teasingly.

I roll my eyes.

"I'm not staring."

"You sure?"

Her tone is light, teasing.

I shake my head and reach for my glass again.

The waiter returns with the desserts a moment later.

The smell of chocolate reaches the table before the plates do.

Ava straightens in her chair immediately.

"Perfect," she says.

The plates are set down carefully in front of us. The glaze on the cake catches the candlelight.

Ava picks up her fork without hesitation.

"I regret nothing," she announces.

I laugh quietly.

For a moment, everything feels simple again.

Just dessert.

Just sitting here with Ava while the restaurant moves slowly around us.

But it's not the same since she's been here.

The chocolate cake is better than I expected.

The glaze cracks slightly when I press my fork through it. Warm chocolate underneath. Ava takes a bite and immediately leans back in her chair.

"Okay," she says.

"What?"

"This was the correct decision."

I smile and take another bite.

Around us, the restaurant moves slowly. A waiter refills water at the table behind Ava. Someone near the bar is finishing a coffee. The candle between us burns lower, the flame thinner than before.

Ava wipes the corner of her mouth with her napkin.

"You know who would hate this place?" she says.

"Who?"

"Mira."

I glance up.

"Why?"

"She'd say it's pretentious."

"That sounds like her."

Ava laughs softly.

"You know she once deleted my entire folder off the office laptop?"

I pause.

"What?"

"Yeah."

"When?"

"Last year."

Ava rests her elbow on the table, clearly enjoying the story.

"Celeste was choosing an assistant for a few events," she says. "Mira thought it was going to be her."

I already know where this is going.

"But Celeste picked you," I say.

Ava nods.

"Mira was furious."

"What did she do?"

Ava lifts her fork again.

"Deleted my files."

I stare at her.

"You're joking."

"I wish."

"How did you even find out?"

"I opened my laptop and everything was gone."

"And?"

"And she acted like she had no idea."

Ava shrugs.

"Classic Mira."

I shake my head slightly.

"That's insane."

"It was annoying," Ava says. "But honestly, I think Celeste knew."

"Knew?"

"She's not stupid."

That sounds accurate.

Across the room, I notice movement again.

Celeste is still sitting with Lucía. Candlelight from their table reflects faintly on the glass beside them.

I look away before it becomes obvious.

Ava notices anyway.

"Ivy, if you don't stop staring, I'll strangle you."

I smile at her and take another bite of cake.

But my mind drifts anyway.

Celeste has barely spoken to me all week.

Everything at work has been short. Direct. Professional.

Emails instead of conversations.

Instructions instead of explanations.

Like she's drawing a line that wasn't there before.

Maybe that's what she's supposed to do.

Maybe I just imagined the rest.

I push the thought away.

It's not something I should be thinking about.

Ava finishes her dessert first and sets her fork down.

"That was excellent," she says.

I nod.

"Agreed."

The waiter approaches with the check folder.

Ava reaches for it immediately.

"I've got it."

"You don't have to."

"I asked you out."

"That doesn't matter."

"It does to me."

She pulls out her card before I can argue again.

"Relax," she says. "You can pay next time."

Next time.

I like the way that sounds.

The waiter takes the card and disappears again.

A few minutes later, Ava signs the receipt and slides the folder back toward the edge of the table.

"Ready?" she asks.

"Yeah."

We both stand.

The restaurant feels cooler when I straighten up after sitting for so long. My fur jacket slides back over my shoulders as I put it on.

For a moment, I glance across the room again.

Celeste is looking in our direction.

Not obviously.

Just once.

Then she looks back at Lucía.

I look away quickly.

Ava notices but doesn't say anything this time.

We walk toward the exit together. The carpet softens the sound of our steps.

As we pass the middle of the room, I feel it again.

That quiet awareness.

I glance back once.

Celeste's eyes follow us briefly.

Just for a second.

Then she looks away.

Outside, the air feels colder.

The door closes behind us and the noise of the restaurant disappears instantly.

The parking lot is quiet.

A few cars. Dim lights. The distant sound of traffic somewhere down the hill.

Ava hugs me before we reach the cars.

"I had fun," she says.

"Me too."

"Good."

She pulls back slightly.

"See you Monday."

"Monday."

She walks toward her car while I head toward mine.

My heels click against the pavement. Night air brushes against my arms.

For a moment, I just stand there beside my car.

It was a good night.

Better than most Fridays.

Even with the small moment earlier.

I unlock the door.

Something catches my eye.

There's an envelope tucked under the windshield wiper.

I freeze.

"What the hell..."

I pull it free slowly.

The envelope is black.

Completely black.

No writing.

No name.

A strange shiver runs along my arms.

I open the car door and sit inside before opening it.

The interior light flicks on automatically.

My fingers hesitate for a second before sliding the card out.

Inside is a small white card.

Just a few words.

My stomach drops.

For a moment, I just stare at it.

The same cold feeling creeps back up my arms.

My mind flashes back to the phone call from the other week.

The voice.

The single word.

My heart starts beating faster.

Who would even do this?

Why?

I swallow and force myself to breathe.

This is ridiculous.

It could be a joke.

But it doesn't feel like one.

I place the card back in the envelope and drop it into my bag.

I'll tell Jade.

She'll know what to do.

Or at least she'll tell me I'm overthinking it.

No I shouldn't tell anyone.

I start the car.

The engine hums softly in the quiet parking lot.

As I pull out, that uneasy feeling stays in my stomach.

Like something is wrong and I just don't know what yet.

And the drive home suddenly feels much longer than it did earlier.

The house is quiet when I get in.

Quieter than usual, maybe because the night outside still feels present on my skin, cold air caught in my hair, in the sleeves of my jacket, in the space between my fingers where I had held the black envelope too tightly the whole drive home.

I lock the door carefully so the sound doesn't travel.

The hallway light is off. Only the small lamp near the stairs is on, casting a low amber glow across the floorboards. My heels sound sharper than they did earlier, each step too clear in the silence, so I slow down instinctively.

Upstairs, Dad's bedroom door is closed. No light under it.

He's asleep.

For a second, I stand there, looking at the line of the door, listening.

Nothing.

Not even the television he usually forgets to turn off.

I go to my room and close the door behind me gently.

The first thing I do is set my bag down on the chair near the window. The envelope stays inside it. I don't touch it again yet.

The room smells faintly like perfume and clean sheets, warmer than the rest of the house. I reach behind my back and pull the zipper of my dress down slowly. The fabric loosens immediately, slipping easier than I expected after sitting in it all evening.