Chapter 1: The Scent of Trouble

The sharp scent of lavender hit me as soon as I walked in, catching in the back of my throat. Jason looked even more out of place—slouched in a pastel pink chair, scrolling his phone like he wished he was anywhere else. I flipped through the nail sample book, weighing my options as the hum of dryers mixed with the radio’s pop hits, and somewhere in the back, someone laughed at a reality show rerun.

I picked the $25 full rhinestone set. But before I could say much, the nail tech started carefully pressing what looked like Swarovski crystals onto all ten nails—each one sparkling brighter than the last. My stomach twisted as she pressed another crystal onto my nail. I opened my mouth to speak, but the words stuck—what if I was overreacting? What if Jason thought I was being dramatic?

At checkout, she asked me to pay an extra $900 to cover the difference.

She slid the little laminated price list across the counter with a flourish, her expression expectant. My eyes widened as I did the math—$900, on top of what I’d already planned to spend? It was absurd.

It was like my brain had its own toxic comment section, every snarky voice from the internet suddenly in surround sound. Just as I was about to speak, a flood of Twitch-style comments ran wild in my mind: “Ooh, our clever little main character! The supporting girl is too embarrassed to argue in front of the boyfriend and just pays up.”

In my head, the imaginary audience never let up, each snide voice a blend of internet sarcasm and mean-girl glee. Their words echoed louder than the salon’s pop playlist: “The boyfriend’s definitely going to be impressed by how tough she is.”

“That clueless supporting girl doesn’t even know it yet, but soon the main character will spend her money, steal her man, and even her kid will call the main character ‘mom.’”