Page 20 of This Life of Mine

“Five.”

“Three.”

She sighs like I’ve asked her to sacrifice a limb.

“Fine.”

She heads toward the sushi counter with the enthusiasm of a kid running toward an amusement park.

“You love me,” she calls over her shoulder.

I push the cart toward the milk aisle, shaking my head.

“Unfortunately,” I call back, smiling anyway.

Val disappears toward the sushi display, and I head in the opposite direction.

I get to the milk section and begin loading my cart with oat milk. Then coconut milk.

Just as I’m about to walk away, I grab two more cartons and hold them against my hip before turning to my cart—nearly walking straight into someone.

“Oh, sorry,” I say, loading the other cartons in my basket.

The woman steps back.

“Lina?”

My entire frame tenses up.

No. Absolutely fucking not.

I peek up and it’s her.

Cassie.

The last time I’d seen her, she was standing in my kitchen pretending to be my friend, while she was sleeping with my husband behind my back.

She’s shorter than I remember. Her blonde hair still fights a losing battle against years of bleach. She’s oddly wearing makeup, something she never really did before. Her nails are freshly done, and hanging from her shoulder is a Gucci purse I know she couldn’t afford a few years ago. Never on her salary.

The purse catches my attention because it isn’t really about the purse. It’s about the performance. The designer handbag. The oversized diamond on her finger. Every piece feels carefully selected to announce that she’s made it. That she’swon. That she’s now living the life she always wanted.

Before Cole, she was barely paying her bills. Now she wears wealth like a costume that doesn’t fit naturally.

Maybe that’s why she keeps touching her stomach—why she smiles so hard. She’s desperate for everyone to notice. Desperate for people to believe she’s happy—that they’re happy. Despite everything it took to get here.

And maybe she is. Maybe she wakes up every morning thrilled with the life she’s built.

But all I can see is the same woman who spent years studying me. The same Cassie who complimented everything. My hair. My clothes. My cooking. The same Cassie who gushed over our house—how beautiful it was, how lucky I was, how perfect everything looked. I’d never clocked it as envy, hunger or calculation.

At the time it seemed harmless. Flattering, even. The kind of small kindness women offer one another without thinking twice. I’d taken it at face value. Never once considering she was making a checklist instead of giving compliments.

This is the same Cassie who was always a little too eager to sit next to Cole—a little too quick to laugh at his jokes.

I noticed it. Of course I noticed it. But I’d dismissed it.

She’s friendly. She’s with his nephew. That would be disgusting.

Family dinners. Game nights. Holidays spent shoulder to shoulder. I never let my mind go there because the alternative was unthinkable. Because believing she would cheat with her boyfriends uncle, meant admitting I was surrounded by people capable of that kind of betrayal. I’d trusted the proximity. Trusted the relationships. Trusted that someone in the room had a line they wouldn’t cross.