Chapter 3: Jealousy
Stephanie stirred awake to the soft hum of Veronica’s laptop and the familiar, calming scent of jasmine incense. She was still wrapped in the warmth of Veronica’s duvet, the memory of last night’s tears a dull ache behind her eyes. Blinking, she saw Veronica sitting at her desk, the glow of the screen illuminating her focused profile. Then Stephanie’s gaze dropped to her hands, resting on the keyboard.
“Veronica,” she whispered, her voice raspy with sleep. “Your hand.”
Veronica flinched, subtly curling her right hand into a loose fist, but it was too late. Stephanie was already pushing herself up, the blankets pooling around her waist. The knuckles were swollen, the skin across them raw and purpled with fresh bruises.
“What did you do?” Stephanie’s question was barely audible, but it hung in the air, sharp as a pin drop.
“It’s nothing, Steph. Don’t worry ‘bout it.” Veronica tried to turn back to her screen, but Stephanie was off the bed in a flash, crossing the small room to grab her wrist.
“Do not tell me it is nothing! This is from last night,是非? After I was crying?” Stephanie’s accent grew thicker with distress, her fingers gentle but insistent as she turned Veronica’s hand over. “You went to see those girls.”
Veronica stayed silent, her jaw tight. Her green eyes, usually so sharp and certain, refused to meet Stephanie’s worried blue ones.
“You fought them?” Stephanie’s voice rose, laced with a panic that was entirely for Veronica. “Why would you do that? You could have been hurt! Or… or expelled! You are studying law, Veronica! This is… this is stupid!”
“Dem hurt you,” Veronica said, the words low and guttural. “Every time. With their words. Their laughing. Me couldn’t just sit here.”
“So you use your fists? Like a… a gangster?” Stephanie was yelling now, her dimples hidden by a frown of genuine fear. “I do not need you to be my superhero! I need you to be my friend who does not get arrested!”
A sharp, rapid knock at the door cut through the tension. They both froze. Veronica’s eyes snapped to the door, then back to Stephanie, a silent question passing between them. Stephanie wiped angrily at a stray tear and took a deep breath, composing herself.
“Who is it?” Veronica called out, her voice returning to its normal, guarded tone.
“It’s Marcus, Veronica. Is Stephanie in there?” The voice from the hall was overly cheerful, layered with a confidence Stephanie clearly found irritating.
She groaned softly. “I told him I was busy today.”
Veronica’s expression darkened, a flicker of something hot and possessive behind her calm facade. She stayed seated as Stephanie went to the door and opened it a crack.
Marcus stood there, leaning against the doorframe. He was all practiced charm and expensive cologne, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Hey, Steph. I was in the building and thought I’d see if you wanted to grab that coffee now.”
“Marcus, I said not today. I am… I am not feeling well.” Stephanie’s voice was polite but firm, her body language closed off.
“You look fine to me. More than fine.” His gaze swept over her, and Veronica felt her own knuckles ache with a fresh pulse of pain. She didn’t move, but every muscle was coiled tight.
“Really, I cannot,” Stephanie insisted, a note of desperation creeping in. She just wanted him to leave, to return to the fraught, important conversation with Veronica.
Marcus, however, was impervious. “Come on, just a quick one. You’ve been blowing me off for weeks.” He pushed the door open a little wider, his eyes briefly landing on Veronica before dismissing her. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Stephanie sighed, a sound of pure exasperation. Veronica saw the calculation in her eyes: the path of least resistance. “Okay, fine. A quick hug, and then you must go. I am really tired.”
She stepped forward into the hallway, allowing Marcus to envelop her in a hug. Veronica watched, her breath catching in her throat. It was supposed to be brief, but Marcus held on, his hands splayed on Stephanie’s back. Then, slowly, his right hand slid down, fingers tracing the curve of her spine lower than was polite, lingering at the small of her back.
That was all it took.
Veronica was on her feet and at the door in two long strides. She didn’t shout. She didn’t need to. Her presence alone was a command. She placed a firm hand on Marcus’s shoulder and pulled him back, breaking the embrace with an effortless strength that surprised him.
“The lady said a quick hug,” Veronica stated, her Jamaican accent crisp and cold, cutting through the hallway’s silence. “That was not quick. And your hand… it slipped.”
Marcus blinked, his smugness replaced by confusion and a dawning irritation. “We’re cool, Veronica. Mind your business.”
“Stephanie is my business.” Veronica didn’t raise her voice, but each word was a brick wall. “You are leaving. Now.”
He puffed out his chest, a pathetic attempt to match her height. “Or what?”
Veronica smiled, a thin, dangerous curve of her lips that didn’t touch her eyes. She slowly held up her injured hand, the bruised knuckles facing him. She didn’t say a word. She just let him look at the evidence of what happened to people who overstepped.
Marcus’s bravado deflated. He looked from Veronica’s unwavering gaze to Stephanie’s relieved face, and took a step back. “Whatever. This is stupid. Call me when you’re less busy, Steph.” He turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
Veronica closed the door, the click of the lock sounding final. She leaned against it, her heart hammering. The adrenaline from the confrontation with the girls was nothing compared to this sharp, protective fury.
Stephanie stood in the middle of the room, wrapping her arms around herself. “Thank you,” she said, her voice small. “He would not listen. He never listens.”
“You don’t have to thank me for dat.” Veronica pushed off the door, her energy suddenly spent. The anger had evaporated, leaving behind the shaky aftermath of her confession and the constant, gnawing secret in her chest.
“No, I do,” Stephanie insisted, crossing the space between them. She took Veronica’s injured hand again, her touch feather-light on the bruises. “You are always protecting me. From the words, from the hands….” She looked up, her light blue eyes wide with sincere gratitude, completely missing the storm of emotion in Veronica’s own. “You are my best friend in the whole world.”
She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Veronica’s waist, resting her head against her chest in a tight, innocent hug. Veronica stood rigid for a moment, then slowly brought her arms up, holding Stephanie close, her chin resting on top of Stephanie’s head. She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of her hair, the feeling both a solace and a torture.
“Always, Steph,” she whispered into the soft brown hair, the words meant for more than just friendship. “Always.”