Dinner and Dynamics
"Ahh, Sasha, be gentle! I don't want my nose to end up looking like a potato," I winced, trying to pull away as she dabbed something icy and herbal-smelling onto my poor, assaulted nose.
"My lady, you should be more careful!" Sasha scolded, her eyes wide with concern. "What if the injury had been serious?"
I grabbed her hand gently to stop her fussing and turned toward the mirror to inspect the damage. My reflection stared back—nose intact, thankfully. I let out a dramatic sigh of relief.
"It's okay, Sasha. Little things like this happen in life. We should just keep enjoying ourselves," I said with a smile. She nodded, a little more confidently than she would have a week ago. Ever since the Great Maid Smackdown, she had found some backbone. Before that, she was more of a trembling kitten.
"By the way, do you know who that guy might have been?" I asked, and Sasha tilted her head, clearly puzzled.
Right. I forgot to tell her about the part where I nearly face-planted into a man's chest.
Once I finished recounting the encounter in vivid detail—dramatic flailing included—Sasha looked like she was solving some ancient mystery.
"My lady, according to your description... it may have been the young master," she said thoughtfully.
I nodded slowly. That made sense. In this estate, who else would be young, male, and that attractive? Nothing personal, but I haven't seen anyone else around here worthy of a double take.
"Anyway," Sasha said, changing the subject, "should we start getting you ready for the dinner? The Lord has ordered that everyone be present at tonight's family dinner."
Ah, right. The dreaded family dinner.
Truth be told, I'd much rather be curled up in my room with a good storybook than sitting across the table from my stepmother and her two darlings. But I had to attend. Because reality check—I live in this estate thanks to my father's good grace. And while my stepmother does everything in her power to limit my comforts, Father ensures I'm still treated as his daughter.
So for him, I'll show up. Maybe tonight I'll even figure out what it feels like to have a father. I never really missed having one. You can't long for something you've never experienced. But now that I'm here… maybe I should at least try.
Still, let me be clear—I don't do sentimental. I'd rather break someone's bones than my own heart. Not mine, of course. Someone else's.
After a hot bath and slipping into the gorgeous gown Sasha had laid out, I sat down to let her work her magic on my hair and face. She was meticulous, her fingers weaving through my hair like a skilled artist.
When I finally looked in the mirror, I blinked.
Whoa. Is that… me?
Sasha had turned me into someone regal, like a true noble lady. My hair was styled elegantly, my dress perfectly accentuated my figure, and the subtle makeup highlighted my features in the best way.
"Thank you, Sasha. You're full of wonderful talents," I said sincerely.
Her face lit up like a sunrise. That smile reminded me how powerful a simple "thank you" can be. We should say it more often.
"So," I said, standing up and smoothing my dress, "shall we go eat—or rather, endure—the dinner?"
Sasha giggled, and together we walked toward the grand dining hall.
When I entered the hall, only Elena and Edward were already seated. Elena's face immediately paled at the sight of me, which only made me smile.
Good. She remembers.
My eyes flicked to Edward. He was already staring at me, his gaze sharp and searching, as if trying to solve a puzzle he didn't know he'd been handed. I didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction—I simply turned and made my way to the seat beside my father's chair.
"Isla," Elena called, voice laced with false sweetness, "shouldn't you be seated in the third chair? Why are you going toward the seat next to Father?"
I didn't even look at her.
"Why? What's wrong with me sitting next to my own father?" I asked, voice calm and cool. "You're seated beside your mother. I don't remember complaining."
And with that, I sat down, perfectly poised, letting my eyes drift away from her annoying face.
From the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Edward suppress a smile. Or maybe it was just a flicker of amusement. Whatever it was, I ignored it.
A few moments later, the doors opened and my father entered, his presence commanding and heavy like thunder before rain. My stepmother trailed just behind him, her face plastered with an expression of smug pride.
My gaze locked on Father.
He was handsome—there was no denying that. Broad shoulders, strong jawline, those deep brown eyes that mirrored my own. But there was something else there too—a coldness, a wall of emotionlessness etched onto his features.
Until his eyes found mine.
For a fleeting moment, I saw something shift in them. Concern. Recognition. A softness that felt foreign on his otherwise stoic face.
It lasted no more than a second.
And then it was gone, replaced by the same indifferent mask he always wore.
But I saw it. Even if no one else did.