"Harriet, can you do me a favour, sweetheart?"
"Of course. What's up, Mariah?"
"Take this laundry up to your sister's room, please."
"Whose is it? Harper's?"
"Who else."
Harriet let out a small chuckle, shifting her arms to carefully take the neatly folded pile of pink and red clothes that Mariah had just finished ironing. Mariah had worked for the Baldwins longer than any of the children had been alive—loyal, quiet, and almost a part of the family, yet never quite.
Harriet smiled, heading upstairs and gently nudging Harper's bedroom door open with her elbow. She stepped inside, carefully maneuvering around the chaos of Jackson's clothes scattered across the floor. Reaching Harper's side of the room, she plopped the clean laundry down on the foot of the bed.
"Hey Harp—Mariah gave me these to—"
She stopped. The room was quiet. Empty. Harper was gone. They all were. With Harriet home for Thanksgiving, the house had been buzzing. Camila had taken the younger three on a last-minute grocery run, which left Harriet alone.
She furrowed her brow, about to leave, when something caught her eye—something poking out from under Harper's pillow. Curiosity tugged at her. She stepped closer, lifted the pillow, and found a folded photo.
And froze.
Harper. Kissing a girl.
Harriet's breath hitched. Her eyes widened with shock. She looked around instinctively, checking that no one was watching, then quickly shoved the photo into her cardigan pocket and slipped out of the room, not daring to touch anything else.
That evening, the Baldwins gathered around the long dining table. The usual spread—turkey, sides, sparkling cider—sat untouched as conversation flowed. Harriet and Harper sat opposite one another, and while no words were exchanged, their eyes never left each other. Secrets hung heavy in the air. Harriet glanced down at her phone and smiled—it was a text from Scott, saying he was on his way.
Of course, both Cecilia was attendance. She never missed a holiday, and Cecilia especially couldn't resist inserting herself into every family matter with her relentless opinions.
"Oh! Mom, Dad—you made a plate for Scott, right? Since he's coming?" Harriet asked, cheerfully.
Harper looked up, fingers tightening around her cutlery. Aura nudged her gently under the table with a look that silently said: Tell her.
Harper cleared her throat. "I don't know why you invited him..."
Harriet blinked. "Because he doesn't get along with his family. I told you that."
"Yeah, well... I have to tell you something."
Harriet raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"I didn't want to say it now but... he's cheating on you. I saw it. I was getting my nails done and this girl came in talking about her new boyfriend. He walked in and kissed her."
Silence. Harriet stared across the table—expression unreadable—before laughing. Loudly. Disbelieving.
"Harper, that's enough. Not at the dinner table." Camila said sharply.
Harriet shook her head and let out a scoff. "Wow. Just when I thought you couldn't get more fucking selfish."
Harper's mouth fell open. Her fork clattered to the plate.
"You should be ashamed of yourself, Harper. Seriously. You can't say things like that."
"I saw him with my own eyes!"
"Right." Harriet snapped, tossing her napkin down. "You just have to make everything about you. You hate seeing anyone else happy. So, if we're gonna go there—let's talk about how you like girls."
The table fell completely silent.
Harper froze. Her eyes widened. Her whole body tensed. She let out a hollow, almost panicked laugh as her hands trembled beneath the table, gripping her knees.
"No I fucking don't! I don't even know why you'd say that!"
"I found this."
Harriet pulled the photo from her pocket and slammed it down in the middle of the table. Everyone leaned in to look. It was unmistakable. Harper. Kissing another girl.
Harper snatched the photo up, face flushed with panic and fear. She shook her head violently, looking from her parents to her grandmother, whose jaw had practically dropped.
"Harper, is this true?" Thomas asked, voice low.
"No!" she snapped. "This is Harriet being dramatic like always!"
Harriet laughed bitterly. "You're so full of shit."
Without thinking, Harper reached for a handful of mashed potatoes and hurled it across the table, hitting Harriet square in the chest. The entire room erupted as both girls lunged across the table and launched at each other. Screaming. Hair-pulling. Scratching.
Cody rushed to separate them, grabbing Harriet, while Millie yanked Harper back. Both girls stood panting—Harper's nose was bleeding, her face marked with scratches, and Harriet didn't look much better.
Without a word, Harper shoved Millie's hand away, threw on her coat, and stormed out of the house.
The family stood in stunned silence. Food was everywhere. Furniture overturned. Aura glanced at the front door, worried.
"She's probably just gone for a walk..." Jackson murmured.
"She can't be out alone like that." Aura whispered. "Not after last time..."
The memory of Harper's breakdown—of the incident that led to her being admitted to Warren Institute—hung thick in the air.
Knock, knock.
Aura bolted to the front door, heart pounding—only to deflate when she saw who stood there.
Scott.
Harriet let out an awkward laugh, brushing stray food from her shoulder.
"Scott! Thank God. Come in—we had a bit of a meltdown. Harper went nuclear. Come help me get this food out of my hair, then we can relax. I'm sorry, give me a second."
Scott handed a bottle of wine to Mrs. Baldwin, who took it with a strained smile, glancing at him warily. After what Harper had just said... her suspicions were swirling.
Upstairs, Harriet closed the bathroom door behind them and took a breath, wiping her eyes. Her stomach twisted.
"I need to ask you something" she said, voice low. "And I need the truth."
Downstairs, the family sat in uncomfortable silence. Aura half-heartedly reached for the mac and cheese, only to be interrupted by Cecilia's pointed voice.
"Perhaps you'd prefer something else, Aura. Like... sprouts?"
"Oh—okay..."
"I only mention it because you've got that big sports tournament coming up, don't you? You want to keep that figure nice and trim. Have you lost a few pounds? You're looking skinner than when I seen you last."
Aura forced a smile and shifted her hand toward the Brussel sprouts instead. But moments later, she excused herself to the "bathroom," stepping into the quiet of the kitchen.
She stared at the leftover food on the counter.
Quietly, she opened one of the trays, revealing the mac and cheese—still warm, golden, and gooey.
Without hesitation, she picked up a fork and started eating. Fast. Bite after bite. As if it were the only thing grounding her in that moment.
Within minutes, the tray was empty.