Chapter 94. Greenhouse

Chapter 94. Greenhouse
The next day started heavy. My limbs ached from nothing, really—just the emotional weight of the night before. I didn’t sleep much. My dreams were shapeless and cruel, dissolving the second I opened my eyes, but they left behind the same hollowness as when someone you love lies to your face.
I kept rereading Irene’s last promise, the one she made when she held me in her arms, forehead pressed to mine like she was trying to transfer all her regret into something I could understand. She said she’d try again. That she’d do better. That she’d be there.
And yet. There she was, planning god-knows-what behind my back. Organizing real-life revenge like it was a high school play. With people. Hired strangers. Violence. My stomach still turned at the word: kidnap.
Even if she hadn’t laid a hand on Diana, the fact that Irene orchestrated it made it just as real. She looked me in the eyes and told me she loved me, and she still thought this was the right thing to do?
I didn’t want to hate her. God, I didn’t. But how do you love someone who hides knives behind their back and says “trust me” with a smile?
And the worst part was—some tiny, stupid part of me still wanted to.
But this wasn't some broken promise or miscommunication. This was a deliberate choice. A line crossed. One she didn’t even try to warn me about.
Was it all her?
The notes too? The mirror writing, the staged stalker paranoia that made Diana look over her shoulder like she was the prey for once?
I didn’t know. I didn’t care. Maybe I should have cared. But all I could feel was this chasm between us now. A bottomless quiet filled with things I couldn’t un-hear and choices I couldn’t un-know.
Would I ever look at her the same again?
Lara texted me around midday.
Lara: “Need you for the project. Greenhouse, 3PM. You okay?”
Me: “I’ll be there. I’m fine.”
Fine. Sure.
When I got to the greenhouse lab, Lara was already inside, sleeves rolled up, crouched over trays of seedlings. She glanced up as I walked in and gave me a nod—not the smug kind she usually wore, but a calm, steady one. Like she knew not to poke the bear today.
The greenhouse always felt other-worldly after sunset. With the overhead LEDs on low cycle, the rows of rye, bean seedlings, and fungal plates glowed an alien blue, shadows sharp as scalpel lines. Condensation pearls clung to the glass panels; beyond them the campus sat in darkness, lamppost halos flickering like faraway moons.
We’d been at it nearly three hours—me on statistics tables, Lara logging every half-millimeter growth in her neat block handwriting. My brain thrummed from so much focus; any thought of Irene or the shed confrontation had been pushed to the fringes like an overdue maintenance ticket. But every so often, the memory jabbed: cruelty, kidnapping, secrets. The ache murmured under the hum of the ventilation fans.
We just kept working. By the time the sky outside started dimming into dusk, our charts were mostly done, our mid-term paper half-compiled, and our fingers smelled like damp basil and graphite.
“I brought sandwiches,” she said finally, rustling through a small tote bag. “Egg salad and something vaguely vegetarian.”
I chuckled. “I’ll take vague.”
We sat on the edge of the workbench, legs dangling, unwrapping foil. The greenhouse was warm, thick with the scent of earth and condensation. Outside, light bled into orange and violet.
“So…” Lara began, careful, peeling off the crust of her sandwich. “Do you want to tell me what’s eating you now?”
I didn’t answer right away. Took a bite, chewed slowly. The bread was stale, the lettuce soggy, but it grounded me somehow.
“It’s complicated,” I finally said.
Lara took a sip from her thermos and gave a half-smile. “Isn’t it always.”
I looked down at my lap. “She lied to me.”
Lara didn’t ask who. She knew. Everyone knew.
“She promised me she’d be honest. That she’d change. And then I find out… she went behind my back. Did something messed up. And I don’t even know the full of it. Just the part I overheard was bad enough.”
“She hurt someone?”
I nodded. “Almost. She manipulated something behind the scenes. To protect me, she said. But how can someone protect you when you don’t even know what you’re being protected from?”
Lara was quiet. She watched me for a while, as if measuring what to say.
“I think,” she said slowly, “that when people get scared of losing someone, they do dumb things. Or dark things. Doesn’t make it right, though.”
“I don’t even know if I can forgive her,” I said. “Part of me wants to. But another part of me is so… tired. Of being someone she acts for instead of talks to. I don’t want to be someone’s excuse for playing hero.”
Lara nodded, her jaw tensing. “You shouldn’t have to be.”