"I didn’t like that," I whispered, pressing down on the bandages over my hands, feeling the burn in my wounds as I thought about the knives beside the cookies. "Not at all."

The burning of the wounds I was pressing confirmed the reality of the scene. But when I became aware of what I was doing, I stopped. I picked up the cloth and started wiping the bar for the fifth time in the last hour. A perfectly reasonable activity for someone who is not registering every millimeter of what is happening at the second window table.

Her body never stopped talking, expressing itself freely. But my eyes didn’t leave Nolan, who was smiling. Not one of those sweet smiles he reserved for me — this was a smile I didn’t recognize, as if Nolan were more than what he had shown me over two years.

She touched his bicep. A brief contact, the kind you only allow a partner. Nolan didn’t pull away.

"Maybe Mrs. Miclan was right," said Clear, touching the display case. "Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea for me to take control for a moment." She took a cookie. "You’ve been very kind, Ryne. You need to be more Norguest."

My fingers tightened on the cloth. Wringing it, leaving it almost dry.

There’s a language people use without knowing it. It lives in the distance they choose not to keep, in the touches they don’t announce. It’s called body language.

"Watching her is very rude."

I let go of the cloth. I picked up the water pitcher and walked toward them with my best employee-of-the-month smile.

"Can I get you anything else?" I said, bringing the pitcher close to her face, moving it away from mine.

They both looked at me at the same time without answering, then looked back at each other. Nolan blinked once before responding.

"We’re just talking, Ryne," he said quietly.

"Of course," I answered, refilling a glass that was still full. "Just asking. Don’t read too much into it, sweetheart."

I turned to go back to the kitchen, but Nolan stopped me by taking my arm. I tried to pull free from his grip, but found it impossible to leave his touch.

"Hey," he smiled at me in that tone of his he uses when he wants to share something. "Since you’re here, let me introduce you to someone. Ryne, this is Dilein — she’s a temporary classmate in the school’s training program. Dilein, this is Ryne, my girlfriend."

My eyes swept over her in a second. She was the exact image of the moon — light skin, dark clothing. With a delicate movement she shifted her hair, revealing an ear full of piercings. Eleven different ones, I counted. One in particular stood out at the center: a silver butterfly with an amethyst in the middle.

Maybe I’m missing some purple, I thought.

"It’s a pleasure, Ryne," she extended her hand. "Nolan never stops talking about you — in person you’re so much prettier."

I blinked twice before accepting the handshake.

"It’s... it’s a pleasure, D-Dilein," I tried to be kind, running through all the social techniques I had studied. "I like your hair. I can see the ends are purple."

"Oh, you noticed that fast," she smiled. "Yours is really unique too." She leaned in and touched it gently. "My brother dyes his too, but orange. I think yours is prettier. How often do you dye it?"

"I... I was born with it," I touched it, remembering those days in school. "I don’t dye it."

"I’m so jealous — it’s beautiful." She kept running her hand through it, with a touch so soft and careful it made me feel smaller than I was.

"I see you like black," I pointed out. "Even your denim shorts are... black."

"Of course," she showed off, doing an unnecessary spin and standing with her back to us for a moment. "For me black is part of my personality — a color you only get by combining all the others."

I looked at the back print on her shirt. "You like Dead Ice?"

She nodded, stretching the shirt, which was clearly much bigger on her than it should have been.

"Their music is incredible — because of them I met this airhead." She nudged Nolan with her elbow. "I don’t know anyone else who can..."

"...burn water," I finished. "Yes, I’ve seen it about nine times."

"You really get it."

A laugh came out of me before I could decide whether I wanted to let it. We were complete opposites, but she still made me smile. She looked kind, with her black lips and her makeup that brought out every feature.

"Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all," I whispered, looking at the display case. "I was the one being dramatic." I smiled. "I need to get back to work. You two carry on — I’ll go... over there."

It was then that Nolan glanced up at the wall clock and frowned slightly.

"Hey, it’s almost time," he told me before I walked away. There were actually fourteen minutes left. "Do you want to close early today? Dilein’s the only customer left anyway."

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

She laughed. "You’re so sweet, Ryne — you remind me of my older brother." She stood, stretching in a slow movement. "And I always helped my little brother, even if it was just posing for his paintings."

Together we started lifting the chairs, one by one. I lifted five and she lifted three — we fell into that rhythm. Nolan cleaned the kitchen, as efficient as ever, finishing in under ten minutes — a new record.

"You move like you’ve been doing this for years," said Dilein, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

"Two years for me and four for Nolan," I answered, handing her a glass of water. "And now you, one day."

Nolan smiled from the other side of the café. He wrapped an arm around each of us from behind — one arm for each.

"I didn’t expect you two to get along so well. We make a great team."

We both nodded with an energy that made us laugh. She glanced at her phone and her expression fell.

"Damn, the bus is about to come. I don’t think I’ll make it."

"Don’t worry, I can give you a ride," Nolan offered, pulling out his keys. "Consider it payment for the help."

But my foolish body language was also active, growling by instinct. Nolan turned to look at me with the eyes of a scolded chihuahua.

"Are you okay with that, Ryne? I’ll just take her to the Fly student condominiums."

I looked at him for a second, thinking back to the morning, to the bad impression I’d had of her. She deserves an apology, Clear.

"It’s fine," I said with a smile. "I’ll finish closing up." I took Nolan’s hand, which trembled slightly. "Take her this time — I can walk home." Consider it an apology from me.

They both waved goodbye, her chains jingling one last time before the door closed behind them.

I stood still for a moment with the cloth in my hand. I turned off the lights. Locked up. Stepped outside. The night air carried that particular Wednesday chill I know well by now. I raised my hand to stop the first taxi that passed.

"To my home, please," I said as I got in, watching the driver raise an eyebrow. "I’ll guide you."

The driver nodded without asking anything — his body already had. I’m not entirely sure at what point I decided my home was in the same direction as theirs. It was a decision my body made before my head.

"To the Fly student condominiums, please."

"Are you a student, miss?" the driver asked. "What year are you in?"

"Third year, medicine," my mouth answered without losing sight of the road ahead, searching for any sign of Nolan’s car.

"My niece also studies at that school — she’s in first year," he told me. "Though she doesn’t dress as nicely as you; she prefers black and chains. Her mother says it’s a phase, haha."

I spotted them two blocks ahead, stopped at a red light — one of the ones Nolan hates.

"Though she looks like a troublemaker, she came for a month to study Canadian cooking," the driver commented. "Tomorrow she heads to France, with the best grades of the month."

We followed them at a safe enough distance until I saw the condominium building in the background, its windows lit up and its small garden with bushes tall enough.

"Here is fine." I left the exact change on the front seat.

The driver looked at me in the rearview mirror with a kind smile. "Yes, I thought you were a student. But you look very young to be living alone."

"Everyone says the same," I answered, getting out of the taxi. "Sorry if I don’t look it."

"Have a good night, miss," he smiled. "You seem like a good girl."

I waited for him to drive away before moving. The bush closest to the building entrance was tall enough. I positioned myself behind it with the same naturalness with which I stand behind the bar — as if that were exactly my place in the world.

I watched them stop in front of the entrance. Nolan opened her car door, letting her out like the gentleman he is. She stepped out, smoothing her hair with a movement.

"Thank you," she said, shaking out her skirt.

"See," I said to myself in victory. "My Nolan being Nolan." I whispered. "I need to stop being so paranoid."

I smiled, starting to straighten up carefully — just before watching her throw herself into his arms.

I went completely still, trying not to snap the branch beneath my foot. It wasn’t a goodbye hug. Goodbye hugs have a specific duration, a tension that says "see you later" and releases.

"Why isn’t he letting go?" I murmured, tightening my jaw.

He stroked her hair the way he did with mine. The same gesture. The same hand. The same Nolan.

The wind shifted direction, giving me permission to hear more clearly.

"You’re such a piece of shit, Nolan," she said, curling into his chest.

"Don’t start," he answered, letting her without resistance.

"You have her there all day believing you’re perfect," Dilein continued. "She’s too good for an idiot like you — it hurt me to lie to her."

Nolan blinked, pulling her closer to his chest. "I know."

Two words.

"So why don’t we stop?" she said, running her hands along his body.

Nolan took a moment to answer.

"Because I can’t," he said at last. "I can’t go the whole week without..." He lowered his voice, but the wind was still generous with me. "She wants to wait until marriage. She wants to stay pure until then. I respect her, I really do, but..."

"But you can’t live without a body beside you," Dilein finished. "You need to release the stress." She smiled. "That little mask of yours is way too big on you, you idiot."

She brought her face close to his and kissed him on the lips — something that not even I, in a month of being together, had done.

"That’s why you come, you devour me, you love her, and you leave."

"You know that’s not necessary," he answered, kissing her neck. "It’s just that you have different limits."

"Tomorrow I go back to France," she reminded him. "And I don’t plan on remembering you fondly, idiot." She kissed him again — one where I could see her tongue. "Because that would hurt."

I pressed myself against the bush, crushing my face into it, covering my mouth so I wouldn’t scream.

I had built my white for him, believing in how perfect he was. Every lunch, every lie, every sleepless night memorizing the details of his existence to make myself worthy. I had stained myself to be loved, the way my blood taught me. For him. To be the color he needed. The purity he deserved. The white I had hated so much — I accepted it for you, endured it, coexisted with it.

But if Nolan wasn’t the white I believed him to be, then that sacrifice had no altar. And if it had no altar, I no longer had to keep being the offering.

I opened my eyes. Eyes yellow as chamomile. I let out a small cry, and something very strange happened in my chest.

"I can’t," I said, feeling something break. "Help me — in my way."

It was released.

Like when you’ve been holding something very heavy for too long and someone finally gives you permission to let it go. Not because it no longer matters, but because now your hands are free for something different.

I looked at Dilein’s wrist from a distance before they went inside. The purple handkerchief hung with its usual careless knot, swaying gently in the night wind.

I closed my eyes. The noise began to grow, covering their moans and desires for pleasure against the window.

A smile formed on my face.

"Thank you, Dilein," I whispered — the only words rising in my mind. "Because of you, I can finally stop being white."