Chapter Eleven Pride
Chapter Eleven
Pride
T
he air in my chest shifts like someone yanked it out of me. My stomach drops. My moment of peace dies the second her eyes lock on mine. And just like that, it all comes rushing back—the fallout, the betrayal, the girl who my so-called friends chose over me.
She saunters in like she spotted my car and decided sabotaging me is better than eating. I truly doubt she’s here for anything other than to piss me off.
And it’s working.
My jaw goes rigid, shoulders knotting while heat crawls under my skin before she even hits the counter. Each step she takes is executed with the kind of precision that makes my blood boil. Her crooked little smile stretching wider the closer she gets.
She tilts her head like she’s a fucking health inspector, zeroing in on me like I’m her next violation. I can feel my temper clawing up my throat, begging for a way out.
“Hey, Jainey,” she purrs, dragging out my name. Voice sugar, but her muddy eyes shooting daggers. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”
I know exactly what this is—bait.
Fine. She wants me out of character? Then she’ll sure as hell get it.
“What the hell do you want, Samantha?” The words tear out, edged with everything I’m trying to hold back.
She shrugs casually, like she’s not twisting the knife. “To fuck with you, obviously. Why else would I come to this dump?”
She hangs on my reaction, eyes sharp as a flare as irritation burns through me. “Going to the lake with Jordan and Malaysia this weekend. Figured I’d stop by. Bonus seeing you here though—you look so… busy and tired. Poor thing.”
My blood simmers. This bitch.
I should’ve beat her ass back in high school, maybe then she would’ve thought twice before she wormed her way in here. But of course, she’d rather ruin my day than move on with her life. She probably came in here hoping to get fired.
Joke’s on her—I’d walk out of here before I let her have even a glimpse of satisfaction.
“Place your order or move,” I bite out, gripping the register so hard my knuckles ache. “I don’t give a fuck what you’re doing this weekend—or ever as a matter of fact.”
Her smirk only widens. She lifts her chin, eyes flicking down to her freshly done nails—the kind of expensive manicure that clearly gets touched up every week and a half.
“You really need to relax, Jainey. You can’t actually tell me you’re still bitter? It’s not my fault your friends liked me better. Sorry, I mean—like me better.”
The words gut me. Jordan. Malaysia. And, Jessica.
All laughing with her instead of me—the sound of it still churns in my stomach.
It’s been months, but hearing her say it out loud feels like being kicked in the ribs all over again.
I tell myself I don’t care anymore, that I’m better off—but the truth is, it’s still fucking painful.
“You mean the friends I introduced you to, bitch?” My voice cuts through the room, a couple customers looking over. The air thickens between us, every breath laced with rage. “
They ran to you because you were available. You’re nothing but a daddy’s girl playing dress up with mommy and daddy’s money. You ‘re a fucking home-wrecker. That’s all you are, Samantha. But I don’t care anymore. I don’t need them and I sure as hell don’t need you.”
She leans closer, hissing just for me. “Or maybe they saw the real you. You’re dead weight—always whining about your mommy issues. It’s fucking draining. At least my parents have money. I’d never be caught working in a dump like this. And we both know—you care sweetie and it shows.”
That’s it. Restraint gone.
Every nerve in my body lights up like a fuse.
All I see is red—her stupid little smirk, her annoying ass voice, and her perfect life she didn’t have to lift a damn finger for.
Money she never earned. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to invite her into my circle.
I actually used to feel bad for her back then.
So much for me trying to be nice.
I should ignore her. But the part of me that’s done being quiet—the part she’s been begging to see—finally takes over.
“You don’t know the first fucking thing about me,” I explode, voice tearing through the room. “You came in here for what? You haven’t ordered shit, all you’re doing is getting on my damn nerves—on purpose. Order or get the fuck out!”
Her chin lifts, victoriously, like she doesn’t need to say another word—she knows she’s got me by my imaginary balls..
“Everything okay here?” My manager cuts in, eyes scanning like dollar signs are walking out the door.
Before I can even get a word out, Samantha leans back, fake-smiling all innocent. “Oh, we’re fine. Just catching up,” she says, that slight edge of sarcasm coating every word. “You know—girl talk. Reminiscing about old times.”
“Catching up huh?” My manager’s gaze slices between us.“Because it sounded like you were raising your voice at a customer, Jainey.”
Heat climbs my spine. “She’s not a fucking customer. She came here to start shit. That’s it—that’s all.”
Samantha tilts her head, enjoying the show. “See? Always so defensive. Calm down—it’s not that deep.”
Ignoring her, I catch my managers’s face—the same exact look as last time. The same one she gave me when my ex’s best friend stalked me here and somehow I ended up getting blamed. Like I’m the one inviting this drama in.
I see it forming on her tongue, the words she’s secretly been dying to spit out: you’re fired. But I beat her to it.
I rip off my apron, and slam it onto the counter so hard it bounces.
“Don’t even fucking say it, because I quit.
I’ve been done with this hellhole for a long time.
And I’ll be damned if I let you fire me like I’m fucking disposable—like I haven’t worked my ass off for you for three miserable years. Fuck this job—and everyone in it.”
A couple of customers glance away, pretending they’re not eavesdropping, but their silence gives them away. Samantha’s smug little grin widens, clearly satisfied, like she’s been waiting for me to snap just so she can pretend she accomplished something.
My mom tried to crush me hundreds of times, way worse than this bitch ever could try—and I’m still standing.
If she couldn’t break me, no one can.
In the back, I hook my bag over my shoulder, not bothering to look at a single person back here. It’s not like any of them are my real friends anyway—just coworkers who’d step over my body if it means they can clock out five minutes earlier.
The strap catches on my arm, snagging like even my bag wants one last piece of this place, but I shove it off. My chest feels heavy—not with regret, but with the bitter relief of finally being done with pretending to care.
I head straight through the kitchen, taking the long, forbidden route like it’s my own damn runway. We’re not supposed to walk through here in regular clothes, but I’m already halfway out the door mentally, and what is she going to do—write me up after I just quit?
Marco glances up but quickly looking away like he doesn’t want to get caught being friends with someone like me.
Then I push through the door. The bell gives a weak chime… then another… trailing behind me like a sad little goodbye from a place that never liked my anyway.
Outside, the air hits colder than I expected. I stand frozen, just breathing and thinking.
No job.
No plan.
No clue what comes next.
And somehow, it still smells like freedom. Maybe I should be panicking—but I’m not.
There’s a strange calm in knowing I walked out on my own terms. I can lose everything else, but I’ll never let anyone strip me of my pride.
Not my mom.
Not Samantha.
Not anyone.
I wrap my arms around myself, watching my breath fog in the air like I’m seeing my old life leave my body and settle into something new.
The world feels weirdly quiet—like even the cars driving past know something in me finally snapped back into place. Like the universe is taking a breath with me.
My phone buzzes in my bag, probably some notification I don’t want to deal with, so I ignore it. For once I don’t belong to anyone’s expectations or emergencies.
I’m not someone’s worker. I’m just… me.
And standing here in the cold with nothing to fall back on, I realize something I’ve never let myself believe—I’ve survived worse for less.