Chapter 6 - The Unraveling of Paper Kingdoms
Spring bled slowly into early summer, transforming the city streets into a vibrant tapestry of blooming dogwoods and outdoor cafe umbrellas.
Without the crushing financial drain of Victoria’s rent subsidy, my bank account had finally started to stabilize. For the first time since my parents died, I managed to build a legitimate emergency fund—three months of rent sitting safely in a high-yield savings account. I finally took my Honda Civic to the mechanic, got the transmission fixed, and drove out to the state park just to watch the sunset over the reservoir without checking my phone every five minutes to see if my sister needed rescuing.
Information about Victoria’s life filtered back to me indirectly through Aunt Helen, who refused to be bullied or guilt-tripped by her youngest niece.
According to Helen, Victoria’s high-rise fantasy world was disintegrating like tissue paper in a rainstorm.
Unable to afford the luxury apartment on her own salary, Victoria had begged Chloe to move in with her to split the rent. Chloe, whose concept of friendship was strictly seasonal and entirely dependent on social convenience, had laughed in her face and rented a penthouse loft with a tech startup founder instead.
Desperate, Victoria had tried to take on a roommate she found on Craigslist—a chaotic college student who promptly threw unauthorized weekend parties and left dirty dishes piled in the sink for five days straight. By May, Victoria had broken her lease early, swallowed a hefty penalty fee, and been forced to downgrade into a cramped, outdated one-bedroom walk-up in a much less glamorous neighborhood across town.
Furthermore, the legendary engagement to Brad—the one Victoria had bragged about with such smug certainty—had apparently hit a massive iceberg.
Brad, it turned out, was not quite as wealthy or committed as Victoria had led her friends to believe. When Victoria started dropping heavy hints about a destination wedding in Amalfi and a five-karat diamond ring, Brad’s enthusiasm had cooled faster than a soufflé in a blizzard. By April, according to neighborhood gossip, Brad had packed his golf clubs into his Audi and moved back in with his parents, leaving Victoria with a cancelled dinner reservation and a very awkward silence in her new, cramped kitchen.
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I didn't feel schadenfreude when Helen told me these things. I didn't feel a triumphant surge of I told you so.
I just felt... detached. Like I was reading a book review for a novel I had put down halfway through chapter three because the plot had become entirely too predictable.
