"You should probably sleep. Sabrina doesn’t need you to be prepared. She needs you to show up."

Iris returned to her drawing, adding shading that transformed the flat sketches into something that looked almost alive. The detail work was getting good enough that I could see individual expressions on each figure’s face.

I made it through about three pages of Vivienne’s relationship guidance before giving up and setting my phone aside. The girl had included footnotes. Footnotes about dating strategies. Either she was taking this more seriously than anyone had a right to, or she was nervous enough to channel her anxiety into the kind of overpreparation that resulted in color-coded spreadsheets.

"Zay?"

"Yeah?"

"Don’t try to be anyone else tomorrow. Sabrina already knows who you are. That’s why she wants you."

My sister was getting too wise for her own good. I blamed all the time she’d been spending with girls who treated human psychology like an advanced course they were all competing to ace. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

"I’m going to bed."

"Good. You look terrible when you don’t sleep enough."

I collapsed onto my bed fully clothed and stared at the water stain on the ceiling, which had definitely grown since yesterday. The brown edges were spreading in a pattern that looked like a map of somewhere I’d never been, all branching lines and irregular borders.

Tomorrow I’d wake up and drive to Long Island and spend the day with someone who saw through every defense I’d spent eighteen years building. Someone who collected information about people the way other girls collected jewelry, and who’d apparently decided I was worth the investment of her attention.

The thought should have been flattering. Instead, it felt like being told I was about to be dissected by someone who’d make it feel good enough that I’d thank her afterward.

My phone buzzed one final time with a message from Sabrina: Sweet dreams, Isaiah.

She’d timed it perfectly. Exactly when I’d be lying in bed overthinking everything, she sent two words that managed to be both innocent and loaded with implications I couldn’t begin to unpack.

I closed my eyes and tried not to think about purple eyes and dark chocolate and the way she’d whispered my name across a tarot table while threading her fingers through mine.

The apartment was quiet except for the familiar sounds of Mrs. Delgado’s television and the occasional creak of old building settling into night. Iris was probably still drawing, adding details to her manga version of my increasingly complicated life.

Sleep came eventually, but it was filled with dreams of fog machines and coffee shops and girls with wine-red hair who looked at me like they could see straight through to whatever I kept hidden underneath all the careful distance.

I woke up at six-thirty to sunlight streaming through windows that needed washing and the sound of Iris moving around in the kitchen. The water stain had definitely grown overnight, spreading its brown fingers across more of the ceiling like it was claiming territory.

"You’re up early," I called out, pulling on jeans and the cleanest shirt I could find.

"I made coffee. And toast. Real toast, not the kind you eat standing up while checking your phone."

She’d set the table with actual plates and everything, like this was a special occasion instead of just another Sunday morning. The coffee was strong enough to wake the dead, which meant she’d been paying attention during my various rants about proper brewing techniques.

"You didn’t have to do this."

"I wanted to. Besides, you need actual food before you go spend the day with someone who’s probably going to feed you fancy things you can’t pronounce."

The toast was perfect, golden brown with just enough butter to matter. I ate it while scrolling through my phone, which had accumulated several more messages overnight. Vivienne had sent additional appendices to her dating document. Harlow had forwarded a link to a playlist titled "Songs for Deep Conversations." Cassidy had sent a single photograph of her car’s dashboard at what appeared to be three in the morning, no explanation provided.

"Any word from Sabrina?"

"She doesn’t need to send instructions. She already told me everything I need to know."

"Which was?"

"Coffee at seven. Don’t be late."

Iris looked at me with the expression she usually reserved for moments when I was being particularly dense about something obvious.

"She means the coffee shop where you first met. The one near campus where Cassidy was sitting when you spilled coffee on her shirt."

Of course. Sabrina didn’t give cryptic instructions because she enjoyed being mysterious. She gave cryptic instructions because she assumed I was smart enough to figure out what she meant, and she was right.

"How do you know that?"

"Because that’s where their story started, and Sabrina likes symmetry. Also, she told Harlow yesterday that meaningful locations matter more than convenient ones."

My sister was collecting information about the Valentine family with the dedication of an anthropologist studying a particularly fascinating culture. Which, considering their wealth and the way they treated normal social rules as optional suggestions, probably wasn’t far from accurate.

I finished my coffee and grabbed my jacket, checking the time on my phone. Six forty-five. Just enough time to drive to Manhattan and find parking near campus without being late.

"Wish me luck."

"You don’t need luck. You need to stop pretending you don’t want this as much as she does."

The drive took longer than expected because of Sunday morning traffic and a minor accident that backed up the Lincoln Tunnel for twenty minutes. I spent the time listening to music and trying not to overthink what the next two weeks might look like.

Sabrina wasn’t like her sisters. Vivienne attacked problems head-on with strategic planning and color-coded organization. Harlow approached everything with enthusiasm and the assumption that people were fundamentally good. Cassidy treated life like a series of battles to be won through superior firepower and stubborn determination.

Sabrina just waited. She watched and listened and collected information until she understood exactly what was happening, and then she moved with the kind of precision that made it seem like she’d planned everything from the beginning.

I found parking three blocks from campus and walked to the coffee shop, arriving at exactly seven o’clock to find Sabrina already there. She was sitting at a corner table with two cups in front of her, wearing dark jeans and a black sweater that made her purple eyes look almost violet in the morning light.

"You figured it out," she said as I approached.

"Iris figured it out. I just listened to her."

"Smart boy."