The front door slammed behind Stacey, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor as she stormed into the living room. Betty sat on the couch, curled up with a blanket and her laptop, though the screen was dark. She barely acknowledged Stacey’s arrival, keeping her gaze fixed downward.
"Tell me the rumors aren’t true," Stacey demanded, crossing her arms, her voice sharp.
Betty sighed. "And what if they are?"
She closed her laptop, setting it aside.
Stacey groaned, throwing her bag onto the armchair. "Betty, come on. Marcus? Really? You’re better than this. He’s a total mess!"
"Stop it," Betty snapped, standing abruptly. Her blanket fell to the floor. "Maybe I’m tired of being someone else’s project. Maybe I just want someone who actually sees me for once."
“I’m trying to protect you. You deserve someone who lifts you up, who supports you, not someone who—"
"—not someone who what?” Betty cut her off. “Makes mistakes? Isn’t perfect? Hm? Newsflash, Stacey, neither am I."
The words hung in the air, sharp and cutting.
Stacey stopped mid-step, her expression softening. "Betty, that’s not what I meant. I’m on your side here, we only have each other now.”
“That’s why you’re supposed to support me, not to decide who’s worth my time.”
“You’ve been through too much already to let someone like him drag you down."
Betty let out a bitter laugh. "Drag me down? Did you even hear me? I don’t need you deciding who’s good enough for me."
Stacey approached her, gently and carefully touching her arm. Her voice soft, “He’s not what you think he is.”
"Neither is anyone else."
Betty took her hand away and walked out of the room. Stacey opened her mouth to say something more but stopped. The silence that followed was heavy, the unspoken tension thick enough to suffocate.