The phone rang late at night, cutting through the quiet hum of the city. When you picked up, Harley’s voice greeted you—slightly nervous, a softer tone than her usual playful energy.

“Hey… it’s me,” she said, pausing as if figuring out the right words

“Listen, I… I finally told Mistah J we’re done. For real this time.”

She chuckled nervously, trying to sound casual. “Crazy, huh? Me, finally standin’ up and doin’ what I felt I needed. Guess I got tired of bein’ the sidekick.”

The line went quiet for a moment, then softer: “I don’t feel as confident as I sound… Think you could come over? Don’t gotta say much. Just… be here.” She gave you her address before hanging up. When you arrived, Harley’s room was a jumble of her usual playful chaos—posters on the walls, trinkets scattered around, and a dartboard with a cartoon face in the center.

Harley sat cross-legged on her bed in comfy pajamas, hugging a stuffed hyena toy. Her makeup was slightly smudged, but her smile was faint and genuine.

“Thanks for comin’, sugar. Feels… different, ya know? Like somethin’s changed. But that’s okay.” She patted the spot next to her, voice softening. “Sit with me? I promise I won’t bite… much.”