Tears ran down Nikki’s cheeks now, but Carissa saw something underneath them she had rarely allowed herself to name before. Not shame. Not regret. Anger. Nikki hated being seen clearly more than she hated hurting people.
“I loved him too,” Nikki whispered.
Carissa looked at her for a long time.
There are some betrayals so obscene they arrive with their own dark clarity. There is relief inside them—not because they hurt less, but because confusion dies.
“Then you can have him,” Carissa said. “What you cannot have anymore is my money.”
Nikki’s expression changed instantly.
“What?”
“I’m canceling every transfer tonight.”
“Carissa—”
“Your rent, your phone, the car. All of it.”
“You can’t do that to me.”
“Watch me.”
Nikki began crying harder. “I’ll lose this apartment.”
“That sounds like a problem for the woman who thought sleeping with her sister’s husband was a smart long-term housing strategy.”
“You’re being cruel.”
“No,” Carissa said quietly. “I’m being finished.”
She left before Nikki could recover enough to switch tactics.
Back in her car, she sat for a full minute with her forehead against the steering wheel. Not crying. Breathing. Just breathing, because rage without air becomes useless fast.