The metal door of the “Jail Booth” shut with a sharp, final *clack*.

Len stood frozen, her fingers still curled around the PVC bars. She watched Fay and Kei walk away, their hands linked, disappearing into the golden haze of the festival. For a moment, she felt a pang of envy. Their world seemed so simple, just two people moving toward each other.

“I’m going to kill her,” Angel muttered.

Len turned around. The booth was small barely four feet wide. There was a single wooden bench against the back wall, but Angel chose to stand in the opposite corner, her arms crossed so tightly it looked like she was trying to hold herself together.

“It’s Fay,” Len said, her voice small, echoing in the cramped space. “You know how she is when she thinks she’s helping.’”

“Helping?” Angel finally looked up, her eyes flashing with that jagged, helpless fury. “Trapping us in a cage like animals for everyone to stare at is ‘helping’?”

“No one is staring, Angel. They’re all at the Marriage Booth.”

The mention of the Marriage Booth made the air in the cage grow even thinner. They both knew who was there. They both knew the weight of what was happening outside versus the suffocating silence inside.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.

Len eventually sat on the bench, her knees pulled to her chest. She watched Angel pace the two steps allowed by the cage. Angel was the “cool” one, the girl who always knew what to say, but right now, she looked like a live wire dangerous to touch, humming with a suppressed energy.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Len asked. The question was soft, but in the quiet of the booth, it sounded like a gunshot.

Angel stopped pacing. She didn’t look at Len. “I’m not avoiding you. I’m just… busy.”

“You’ve been ‘busy’ for three weeks, Angel. We used to walk home every day. Now, you’re out the door before the bell even stops ringing. You don’t even look at me during lunch.” Len’s voice cracked. “If I did something wrong… if I said something… just tell me.”

Angel turned then, her movements sharp. She stepped closer, invading Len’s space until she was towering over her. “You didn’t do anything, Len! That’s the problem!”

“I don’t understand,” Len whispered, looking up at her.

“Of course you don’t!” Angel let out a harsh, bitter laugh. She leaned down, her face inches from Len’s. “You’re so ‘serious’ and ‘kind’ and ‘perfect.’ You sit there with your books and your soft smiles, and you act like we’re still ten years old playing in the sandbox.”

Angel’s breath was warm against Len’s cheek. The distance between them was gone. Len could see the tiny flecks of gold in Angel’s irises, and for the first time, she saw the fear hidden behind the anger.

“We aren’t kids anymore,” Angel rasped. “And I can’t keep pretending that looking at you doesn’t make me feel like I’m losing my mind. Every time you touch my arm, or laugh at a joke, or… or even just breathe near me, I feel like I’m suffocating.”

Len felt her heart stop. The “childhood friend” safety net had just been shredded. “Angel…”

“Don’t,” Angel warned, her voice trembling. “Don’t say something nice. Don’t be ‘kind’ right now. I’m angry because I don’t know what to do with this. I’m angry because you’re my best friend, and I’m terrified that if I stay in this cage with you for another hour, I’m going to do something we can’t take back.”

Len reached out, her hand trembling as she touched Angel’s wrist ,right where the pulse was thudding like a trapped bird.

Angel didn’t pull away. She leaned her forehead against the cold PVC bars of the cage, her shoulders shaking. “Fay thinks she’s a genius. She thinks this is going to fix us. She doesn’t realize she just locked me in here with the one person I’m trying to survive.”

Len stood up slowly, her body inches from Angel’s back. She didn’t hug her, not yet. The “slow burn” was too hot for that. Instead, she just stood there, a steady, silent presence in the dark.

“I’m not going anywhere, Angel,” Len whispered to the back of her head. “Even if you’re angry. Even if it’s hard. I’m staying in this cage with you.”

Outside, the cheers for Fay and Kei’s “wedding” erupted. Inside, the two girls stood in a heavy, painful silence, realizing that the “Invisible Wall” hadn’t been built to keep them apart, it had been built to keep the truth from getting out.

They didn’t kiss. They didn’t hold hands. They just stood in the wreckage of their friendship, waiting for the clock to run out, knowing that when they finally stepped out of that booth, nothing would ever be the same again.