0927 Was Her Birthday, Not Ours Chapter 10
A month later, Paige tried to call into the livestream.
She used a different username, but the second she spoke, I recognized her voice.
She was crying. “Lawyer, if a man tricked me into being the other woman and then made me take the fall, can I sue him?”
Larry’s tone was flat. “Please state the facts.”
Paige choked out, “I didn’t know he wasn’t done with his fiancée.”
Chat lit up.
[That voice sounds familiar.]
[The Clarity Queen?]
[You’re back again?]
Paige panicked. “I’m not who you think I am.”
Then she hung up.
Not long after, the Reese Group put out a statement.
Dylan Reese was stepping down from management.
Todd Simmons’s studio was suspended for internal review.
The second payment arrived.
I took my parents out for a backyard BBQ grill night.
My mom put a piece of tri-tip on my plate. “Eat more.”
My dad slid a debit card across the table. “Take this money.”
I pushed it back. “For the renovation.”
My mom asked, “What are you going to do now?”
I dropped the tri-tip into the sauce, counted seconds, pulled it out. “Work.”
“Save.”
“Sleep.”
“Live.”
My mom’s eyes went red again.
I pushed the dipping bowl toward her. “Mom, don’t cry. The hot sauce’s not hot enough.”
She laughed.
My phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.
[Sienna, I’m at the County Clerk’s Office.]
[So many people getting their licenses today.]
[Now I finally know how much that hurt you.]
I blocked the number.
Another text came through from a different number.
[I’ll wait as long as it takes.]
I shoved the tri-tip in my mouth and burned my tongue.
…
After dinner I took my parents to see the new house.
My mom stood on the balcony, measuring for curtains.
My dad crouched on the floor, checking the floor drain.
I pulled out my phone and took a picture of my parents standing in the new house, seen from
behind.
I didn’t post it anywhere.
Just saved it to my camera roll.
The camera roll still had a lot of photos of Dylan.
I deleted them one by one.
Until I got to the original of his profile picture, the one in the white button-down, standing
outside the Maple Street rental.
My finger paused for two seconds.
Then I hit delete.
The system asked: [Delete this photo?]
Confirm.
Six months later, Larry invited me to be an anonymous guest on the stream.
Same theme: what to know before the license.
I sat off-camera, voice modulator on.
Larry asked, “If you could go back to the night before the license, what would you do?”
“Check the official site. Save the evidence. Don’t make excuses for the liar.”
The chat sped up.
[Her voice is so steady. Respect.]
[Can you really not fall apart after something like that?]
I looked at the screen. “You fall apart. But after you fall apart, you take screenshots.”
Larry smiled. “That’s practical advice.”
Right before the stream ended, an account started donating wildly.
The username was blank.
A private message popped up.
[Sienna. It’s me. I’m sorry.]
I didn’t reply. Blocked it.
I walked to the subway entrance. Crowds everywhere.
Someone yelling into their phone mid-fight. Someone running with flowers. Someone holding an engagement photo and laughing.
I tapped my card and went through the turnstile.
The train came. Wind rushed out of the tunnel.
My camera roll, at the very top now, the finished renovation photos of my parents’ new place.
Living room with a small round table. Duvets airing on the balcony. Non-slip tiles in the
kitchen.
I texted my mom. [Coming home for dinner tomorrow.]
She answered in two seconds. [Short ribs.]
I smiled.
The train doors slid open. I stepped inside.
Behind me, someone yelled, “Sienna?”
I turned. Megan was pushing through the crowd, holding up her phone.
“Sienna! That episode of Larry’s show, that was you, wasn’t it?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Evidence?”
She blinked, then burst out laughing. “No, no. Just guessing.”
The doors closed.
She stood next to me and lowered her voice. “Hey, I sent that ‘avoid the burn’ stream to my little sister yesterday.”
“She was about to loan her boyfriend money to open a shop.”
“Today she asked him to sign a promissory note. He flipped out.’
I gripped the handrail. “Good for her.”
“One disaster dodged.”
Megan nodded. “She said she wants to thank the woman on the stream.”
The train moved.
The lights swept across the windows. The glass reflected my face.
Calm. Clean.
I looked down and texted back.
“Tell her to thank herself.”
“The people who wake up, they’re the ones who save themselves.”
