Too everything.
“Objection,” Hearsay insisted.
“Thanks, buddy.”
The bird ducked his head a couple of times, ruffled his feathers like he was still stewing about being ignored, then grabbed a sunflower seed shell in his beak and flung it with precision into the corner of his cage. He fluffed up, muttered something unintelligible, and stabbed his beak into the bottom of his seed bowl like he meant to break through it.
Birdy watched the little tantrum with narrowed eyes. “Yeah, I feel that.”
A fresh surge of heat bloomed behind her ribs. Revenge. She could bury him in filings. Drown him in legal briefs and procedures so thick he’d never crawl out. She could cite every clause, every loophole, every precedent that would make him choke on his smug assumptions. She could show him exactly how dangerous a woman like her could be when she was underestimated.
With one final breath through her nose, she clicked the little X in the corner of the chat window and watched the screen go blank.
A knock came at the door. It creaked open behind her.
“What was that?” came Bunny’s voice, soft but laced with big-sister bite.
“What was what?”
Bunny stepped into the office, pulling the door shut behind her. She crossed the room and leaned against the bookshelf, arms folded.
“At the mayor’s office. You and the social worker. You two looked like you were in a Telenovela.”
Birdy gave a dry huff. “I hardly know him.”
Bunny did the annoying older sister thing where she simply crossed her arms and waited.
“He helped me fill out a form.”
Bunny raised an eyebrow. “Must’ve been a very important form.”
Birdy did the annoying middle sister thing and didn’t answer. Instead, she moved toward the electric kettle and poured hot water into a mug like it gave her something else to feel besides humiliated.
But Birdy wasn't good at this game, the one where she kept secrets from her sisters. “We met online.”
“Like on a dating app?”
“No. On a government forms app.”
“Well… that's a new way to date.”
“We're not dating.”
But I'll take your number down in case I decide to get wild in the next chat room.
“He called me difficult.Intimidating. Said I wasn’t who he thought I was. He got a glimpse behind the armor and ran the other way. So… lesson learned.”
There was a beat of silence behind her.
“He didn’t run,” Bunny said softly. “He flinched. And that’s different.”
Birdy turned back, mug in hand, steam rising between them like a fog. “Same result either way. I’m done hoping people will like me better once they get to know me. They never do.”
Bunny stepped forward like she might say more—but then stopped. Her big sister knew Birdy inside and out. Knew her looks, her huffs. She knew that tone. Knew when Birdy’s defenses had locked into place like a vault door.
Bunny gave a small nod, reached out, and squeezed her sister’s hand. “Okay. But just so you know—he didn’t look like someone who hated what he saw. He looked like someone who saw something real and didn’t know what to do with it.”
Birdy didn’t reply. What more could she say? The evidence was right there in front of her. Or rather, the lack of it was. Paul hadn't come to apologize or explain or… anything.
