“What are you looking at?”
Charlotte’s voice was light, almost playful, but her eyes betrayed the tension beneath her carefully composed exterior.
Christopher didn’t glance up, his focus fixed on the tablet in his hands. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips as he replied,“The venue for my wedding with Evelyn. She’s always loved traditional weddings, so I’m trying to find the perfect place.”
Charlotte’s hand froze mid-air, the casual grace of her movement faltering. A wave of bitterness surged in her chest as she forced herself to sit down beside him. Her tone was measured, but there was a sharpness to her words, “Do you really think someone from a background like hers deserves such a grand venue? Brother Chris, I think a simpler one would be just fine.”
Her words lingered in the air like a thin veil of smoke, but Christopher’s reaction was immediate.
His gaze snapped to hers, sharp and unyielding. The weight of his stare was oppressive, making Charlotte’s heart sink.
“Her background?” he repeated, his voice cold and cutting. “And what about yours? Do you think you’re somehow above her?”
The chill in his tone deepened. “Three years abroad and you’ve come back with prejudice? I thought you were better than that.”
A bead of sweat formed on Charlotte’s temple as she realized she’d misstep. She knew Christopher well enough to recognize the subtle shifts in his temper—this wasn’t something he would easily overlook.
Pasting on a strained smile, she quickly backpedaled, “That’s not what I meant, Brother Chris. I only meant that... maybe I could help? I know women best, after all. I could make sure Evelyn’s dream wedding is exactly what she wants. It’d be a nice surprise.”
Christopher studied her for a long moment, the ice in his eyes thawing just slightly. Finally, he gave a small nod. “Fine. I’ll leave it to you. But use this chance to build a better relationship with her. Evelyn is your future sister-in-law and the two of you shouldn’t be at odds all the time. It makes things... difficult for me.”
Charlotte’s nails dug into the palm of her hand, but her smile remained intact.
“Got it,” she said, her voice dripping with false enthusiasm. “I’ll take care of it.”
***
Evelyn returned home late that evening, her body trembling from hours spent in the snow.
The nanny helped her inside, but the warmth of the house offered little relief. The sudden change in temperature sent jolts of pain through her body, as though needles were piercing her skin. Her legs throbbed with an excruciating ache, as if thousands of nails were driven into her bones.
By the time she reached her room, the pain had become unbearable and her vision blurred. She collapsed onto her bed, fever overtaking her almost immediately.
She barely had time to pull the blanket over herself when the door swung open.
Charlotte entered, a smug expression on her face and a tablet clutched in her hands. She stood at the foot of the bed, her tone laced with mockery. “Oh, you’re still alive?” she sneered. “Brother Chris asked me to let you know—the bride for the wedding next month has changed. It’s me.”
She didn’t wait for a response before shoving the tablet in Evelyn’s face. On the screen were photos of luxurious wedding venues. “See? I’m already picking out the location.”
Evelyn didn’t respond. Her face was pale, lips cracked and her body shivered under the covers. She didn’t even bother to glance at the screen, her indifference cutting deeper than any retort.
Charlotte’s smirk faltered. She frowned, her voice turning sharp. “You know how Chris feels about me, don’t you? Let me warn you—get out while you can. Don’t embarrass yourself.”
She leaned closer, her words dripping with venom. “A woman like you, who was abandoned by her own parents, has no place in Chris’s life. You’re nothing but a pathetic mistress.”
Evelyn finally spoke, her voice barely audible but steady, “Don’t worry. I’ll leave soon. You don’t need to make this harder for me. Now get out.”
The words were simple but firm and Evelyn didn’t give Charlotte the satisfaction of seeing her break. She turned over, pulling the blanket tighter around her fragile frame and closed her eyes.
Charlotte stared at her in disbelief.
The Evelyn she knew would have fought back—sharp words, bitter accusations, anything to defend herself. But now, Evelyn was strangely calm, almost resigned.
It unsettled Charlotte, though she quickly dismissed the feeling. Fine, she thought. It’ll save me the trouble.
With a click of her heels, she turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her.
Once the room was quiet again, Evelyn opened her eyes.
It was hard to say what hurt more—her legs, her head, or the hollow ache in her chest.
Tears slipped silently from the corners of her eyes, soaking into her pillow. The overwhelming despair returned, suffocating her. The thought of leaving everything behind—of simply ceasing to exist—seemed almost comforting.
Her fever worsened, her thoughts growing hazy as she drifted in and out of consciousness.
In her fevered state, she dreamt of faces from her past—people she had loved, people who had mattered. The images were blurred and fleeting, but the emotions were vivid, pulling her deeper into the haze.
For a moment, she felt warmth. And then, only darkness.
