“What the fuck, Rachel?” She blinks slowly and scowls. “If you’re going to come home so late, at least have the decency to not wake me up too.” She rolls over so her back is to me and puts a pillow over her head. “And can you please turn off the lights?”

For a second, I feel bad. Though it’s been a couple months, I know Jiyoon is still really down about her forced breakup with Jin, and the humiliation of the scandal. I’ve seen her crying and sniffling into her pillow when she thinks I’m asleep. Lord knows when I’m going through something like that, a good night’s rest is the only thing that makes me feel even slightly better.

But at the same time, I want to grab her shoulders and shake her awake again and demand if she knows anything about my missing Balenciaga. I want to race through the villa, banging on doors, turning on lights, until I find out who took my bag and why. To demand answers about why they tried to sneak in a rehearsal without me.

But I’m just too exhausted—physically and mentally—to stir up drama in the middle of the night.

I flip off the light and slip out of the room, pulling out my phone to call Alex. Texts won’t cut it right now.

He answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hi,” I whisper, stepping out into the hallway and sliding down onto the floor with my back against the wall.

“What’s wrong?” he asks immediately.

“How do you know something’s wrong?”

“I can tell by the way you said hi. You sound like Eeyore.”

That gets a weak laugh out of me. I fill him in on the “last-minute” rehearsal fiasco, before admitting that the Balenciaga is gone. To my embarrassment, a lump rises in my throat as I talk and my eyes start misting.

“Sorry,” I sniff. “I just feel like all these things are getting to me, you know? I’m starting to feel overwhelmed with work and the reality show and all the fashion stuff I want to do, and I feel so whiny for complaining about all these amazing things, but I can tell I’m starting to lose control. At the end of the day, I just want to rest and recharge, but when I live in a house with eight girls, that’s not even a guaranteed thing. I miss living at home and I miss my parents. I can’t even remember the last time I saw them, even though we live in the same city.” I take a deep breath, wiping my eyes. “Sorry,” I say again. “That was a lot.”