Sage
The vodka had gone down too easy. Warmth spread through my chest, loosening muscles I hadn’t realized were still knotted, dulling the edges of the day. I wasn’t drunk, not yet, but the room had that pleasant, soft haze around it, and conversation with Margo had somehow slipped into something almost comfortable.
She leaned forward, elbows on the table, glass cradled between her fingers. Voice low, like we were sharing secrets. “What do you like about Eve?”
I smirked without thinking, the alcohol making the answer feel simple. “What do I not like about her?”
Margo scoffed, a short, sharp sound. Her face shifted—smile thinning, eyes narrowing just enough to notice. Annoyance flickered across her features before she masked it with another sip.
“Why did you marry her?” she pressed.
I
