Zara didn't wake up planning to fight anyone.
She woke up planning to wear a cute dress, eat overpriced croissants, and maybe flirt a little over brunch—fake flirt, of course. That was the brand now.
But the universe had other plans.
Because standing at the entrance of the rooftop café, bathed in golden light like a walking perfume ad, was a woman who screamed "ex-girlfriend with unfinished business."
Blonde, tall, effortless. Wearing a white dress that probably cost more than Zara's rent.
She was talking to the hostess.
Then her gaze landed on them—Zara and Noah, already seated.
And she smiled.
Oh no. She had the smile.
The one that said: "You think you're the main girl? Cute."
Zara adjusted her sunglasses.
"Noah," she said without looking up. "Is there something you forgot to mention?"
He stiffened beside her. "Clara."
Clara. Of course she had a name like that.
Clara approached with the kind of grace that made Zara's eye twitch.
"Noah," she purred, leaning down to kiss his cheek. "I didn't know you were back in town."
Zara didn't stand. She took a sip of her drink and gave Clara a once-over.
"You must be Clara," she said brightly. "I've heard… nothing at all, actually."
Clara blinked. "And you are?"
"Zara Everleigh. Slipper girl. Social media's favorite scandal."
Zara extended a hand, sparkling with rings and confidence.
Clara hesitated—just for a second—before shaking it. "Oh. You're the... girlfriend."
"Fake girlfriend, technically," Zara said. "But the chemistry is real. Depends who you ask."
Noah made a noise that sounded like he was choking on regret.
Clara didn't leave. She sat down.
Zara's brow twitched. "Were you... invited?"
Clara smiled, clearly unbothered. "It's a public café. And Noah and I go way back. Don't we, darling?"
Zara counted to three before replying.
"Cute. I go way back with insomnia. Doesn't mean I want it at brunch."
Noah cleared his throat. "Clara, this really isn't—"
But Clara was already diving into memories.
"Remember Paris?" she asked, touching his arm. "That awful hotel with the blue curtains? You were so grumpy."
"Oh," Zara said, smiling. "You mean the place you broke up with him?"
Clara blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I Googled," Zara said sweetly. "It's public record. Something about you not liking 'long-term expectations'? Super relatable."
Noah coughed into his drink.
Clara turned her smile toward Zara like a spotlight. "You know, Noah has a pattern."
"Oh?"
"He's drawn to women who need saving."
Zara tilted her head. "I don't need saving. I need coffee and occasional snacks."
Clara didn't flinch. "You play it well. This... unbothered girl-next-door vibe. Almost makes people forget how quickly you rose."
Zara took off her sunglasses slowly.
"I didn't rise. I arrived. There's a difference."
There was a pause.
Even Noah blinked.
Clara laughed—just a little too loud. "Well. I wish you both luck."
Zara stood.
"So do I. Because if I ever see you 'accidentally' brush his arm again, I might confuse you for a fly."
Clara's mouth opened. Then closed.
She stood too.
"Well. That was... illuminating."
Zara leaned in, dropping her voice just enough.
"This isn't high school, sweetheart. We don't fight over boys. We outclass."
Then she turned back to Noah and said, loud and clear,
"Ready to go, babe? You owe me a dessert for surviving your ex without stabbing anything."
Outside, Noah finally spoke.
"Okay. What just happened?"
"I handled it."
"You obliterated her."
"She asked for it."
"She was my ex."
"She was a walking red flag in heels."
He stared at her.
Zara shrugged. "What? You think I was gonna let her monologue about Paris and emotional trauma over pancakes?"
He exhaled. "I don't know whether to thank you or worry about you."
Zara smirked. "Both is good."
---
Later that afternoon, back in his car, Noah stared out the window for a full minute before saying,
"You really don't pretend, do you?"
Zara raised an eyebrow. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It's... rare."
She looked out too. "So is a man who lets his girlfriend do the talking."
"Fake girlfriend," he corrected.
She smiled. "Still counts."
He glanced at her then.
Longer than usual.
Eyes softer. Quieter.
"Zara."
"Hmm?"
"I've never seen Clara speechless."
Zara grinned. "I'll invoice you."