April

I sat near the edge of the low concrete wall at the District Skatepark, my eyes skimming across the pages of my book while watching Angel and Terror perform their usual routine. Terror, that now fat orange fluffy cat, was balanced right on top of Angel’s shoulder, clinging on with complete ease as Angel zipped past the ramps.

The two of them were having their own little moment, practically moving as one unit.

I shifted in my spot, trying my best to lock my focus back onto this novel I had been attempting to finish for days now.

Ever since the bookstore changed, I barely had a spare second to sit down and read during my shifts anymore.

All I did was serve coffee instead of recommending books to patrons..

A sharp scrape of wheels against concrete signaled Angel rolling over toward my corner. She came to a smooth stop right in front of me, reaching down toward the bag where the water was kept.

I reached in first, twisting the cap off the bottle and handing it over, even tilting it up to feed her a drink so she didn’t have to drop her board.

"Do you want to join us?" Angel asked, using the back of her forearm to wipe away the beads of sweat dripping down her forehead.

"I really need to finish this novel," I replied, my thumb flicking to the next page. "I don’t have time to read at the store anymore with everything going on."

"Okay then..." She shifted her weight on the skateboard, preparing to kick off again.

"Do you think I should get contact eye lenses?" I blurted out before she could roll away.

She paused, tilting her head slightly. "Why do you want that?"

"Hmm, maybe I should just stop wearing glasses altogether," I muttered, adjusting the frame on the bridge of my nose. "It feels kind of old-fashioned."

"So?" Angel reached down, her fingers lightly touching the edge of my glasses. "It’s not. I actually like it."

I stared at her for a second. Seriously, this was the exact same girl who used to call me every name under the sun because of these frames.

"You really like it?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You look beautiful with glasses," she said directly, her tone completely flat and honest.

Hearing those words spill out of her mouth so casually made a short scoff escape my chest.

At the same time, Terror hopped down from Angel’s shoulder, landing softly on the ground before wandering off toward the shaded corner to lick her orange fur.

"I’m really serious," Angel added, watching my reaction closely. "You are beautiful with your round glasses on."

"You really expect me to believe that?" I asked, pulling my eyes away from my book. "When you’re the main person who used to call me names specifically because of the glasses I wear?"

"Yeah. Four-eyes is a good name," she said with a slight shrug. "But I never said you were ugly."

"Angel, you have said that exact word multiple times straight to my face."

"That was only because I didn’t like them back then," she countered, not backing down at all. "But now that I do, you look beautiful with your glasses on. I’m being serious."

"Was I beautiful when you hated me?" I pressed, leaning forward slightly.

"No," she answered without missing a single beat. "You were fucking ugly. My mind literally refused to accept the fact that you were stunning."

The conversation fell quiet for a second, the breeze carrying the distant hum of traffic from outside the park. A question I had been keeping inside for a long time floated right to the top of my mind.

"Do you still hate my mom?" I asked. It was obviously the real root of why she used to hate my guts from the very beginning.

"Yes, I do," Angel said. The warmth in her eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, steady glare. "She completely ruined my parents’ marriage, so I can never like her. Your mother is a gold digger."

Even as those harsh words left her lips, she maintained a soft, calm smile right in front of my face.

"No, she isn’t," I snapped back, my hands gripping the edges of my book tight enough to crease the paper. "My mom did not marry your mom for her money. She told me she fell in love with her."

"April, literally everyone in this entire district loves me simply because I have a billionaire for a Mom," Angel said, her voice dropping into that chilling, logical tone. "Your mother was just a secretary who seduced her own boss despite knowing full well she was already married, why because my mom is a billionaire."

She always found a way to hit right where it hurt. I didn’t even like my mom for plenty of my own reasons, but she wasn’t the type of person who would intentionally go around wrecking someone’s home.

"Angel, why do you always find a way to make me feel sad?" I asked, my throat feeling suddenly tight.

"I’m not trying to make you feel sad," she replied smoothly, setting her foot back onto the board. "I’m just telling you the plain truth. If it hurts your feelings, then I apologize."

Without waiting for my response, Angel kicked off the ground and continued skating around the concrete bowls.

I couldn’t sit there watching her anymore. I picked up my stuff, left her alone at the park, and walked back up to the terrace apartment so I could actually focus on my reading in peace.

I collapsed onto the bed, opening the book back up, but my eyes just stared blankly at the dark ink on the page.

The thought of my mom seducing someone just to marry into extreme wealth made me feel completely sick to my stomach.

I refused to believe any of that bitter garbage Angel spewed out.

My eyelids began to feel heavy as the quiet room wrapped around me. Just as I was about to doze off into a full nap, a sharp, metallic ding echoed as the elevator doors slid open.

I figured it was just Angel coming back up to check on me.

Then I heard the distinct, heavy click of high heels tapping firmly against the polished floor.

I sat right up on the edge of the mattress, my head snapping around to look toward the doorway.

It wasn’t Angel standing there at all.

It was Madam.

"Angel is not here," I said immediately, my posture stiffening as my legs swung over the side of the frame.

"I know," Madam replied, her sharp eyes locking onto mine as she slowly crossed her arms over her chest. "April Morningstar... I would like to have a cup of coffee with you."

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