Butterfly Effect

28. Losses

Her breath hitched in her throat as she glanced down at her phone, struggling to comprehend the contents of the message before her.

It was a lengthy and furious message, oozing with a sense of betrayal.

And it was from Fyza, of all people. Fyza, the heiress she had considered a close friend, the person she confided in when she needed solace.

Confusion flooded her mind as she read and re-read the message, trying to make sense of it. She couldn't help but feel a surge of anger, prompting her to switch off her phone and hurl it against the nearest wall in frustration.

'If you believe anyone in their right mind would willingly keep you as a friend, then you're even more of a psychopath than I believed. Don't bother sending us invitations to your wedding, myself and the other girls won't be attending.

We now understand where we stand in your eyes - beneath you. Please refrain from contacting me to hang out again. You're insufferable. And trust me, no one likes you.

You fucking bitch.'

She pondered for a moment, realizing that the name-calling wasn't entirely unfounded.

She knew damn well that she was a bitch, but to have it hurled at her so bluntly was a surprise. No one dared to say it to her.

Trying to recall what she might have said about the Pakistani heiress, she quickly realized that she had made numerous derogatory remarks. It seemed inevitable that this fallout would eventually occur.

She wasn't naive.

She understood exactly what was happening.

The promise Keenan had made lingered at the back of her mind, and she let out a sigh as she glanced up at the array of new clothes hanging on the rack.

Her tailor, sensing something was amiss, cleared her throat and asked cautiously, "Is everything alright?"

Jana forced a fake smile, allowing the elderly woman to adjust her dress around her waist. "It's fine, I just need to find new bridesmaids for a wedding that's months away."

The tailor looked surprised by the response, her eyes darting towards the discarded phone on the floor. "Oh, my. That sounds rather stressful. Is there a specific reason for this sudden change?"

"They're all promiscuous women who are after Julian. I can't stand any of those skanks."

Shock colored the tailor's face once again. "Oh," she uttered, taken aback.

Jana resisted the urge to snort at the reaction, finding amusement in the shock her words elicited. She relished in the various reactions people had to her provocations.

But deep down, she couldn't shake off the feeling of loneliness that seeped into her bones. The realization that she had driven away the only people she considered friends hit her hard.

As the tailor continued to adjust her dress, Jana's mind drifted back to the message from Fyza.

She couldn't deny the truth behind the accusations. She had let her insecurities and jealousy poison her friendships, using her sharp tongue as a shield against her own vulnerabilities.

Fyza was nothing other than a pawn in the facade life she had melded for herself here.

She could care less that she was no longer in her support, though she did not know how to relay the very news to her fiancé.

He would be sceptical, wanting to know the reason.

She needed to come up with a valid excuse fast.

She thought for a moment, considering the best way to approach the situation with Julian.