She snaps the picture. In it, Y/n floats on a pink inflatable lounger, one arm trailing in the cool water, eyes closed against the glare. Pansy, in a black bikini, is a sharp contrast beside the pool's edge, her smirk already in place as her thumbs fly across the screen.

She tosses the phone onto the plush outdoor sofa and dives into the pool with a neat splash, surfacing next to the lounger. For a while, there's only the sound of water lapping and distant birdsong.

She scoops up the phone, wiping the screen on her towel. Her eyebrows shoot up. A string of notifications from Instagram, and a flood of iMessages, all from the same contact.