The morning light spilled into the Langford-Brown mansion, golden rays filtering through tall arched windows and glinting off polished marble floors. The house was alive with quiet footsteps and murmurs of staff preparing breakfast, though tension still clung to the air from the night before.
In the dining hall, Mrs. Langford sat at the head of the long glass table, her posture regal, fingers wrapped around a delicate porcelain teacup. Celeste sat gracefully to her right, every movement elegant, rehearsed. Aira sat further down the table, her chair slightly pushed back, as if she wanted to disappear into the shadows.
"Celeste, sweetheart," Mrs. Langford said warmly, her voice carrying across the polished table, "you should come shopping with us today. We need to start planning your engagement look." Her eyes sparkled with pride as she reached across to pat Celeste's hand. "You're practically family now."
Celeste's lips curved into a flawless smile, her lashes lowering as she tilted her head modestly. "Of course, Mrs. Langford. I'd love to." Then, slowly, her eyes slid toward Aira. That same smile lingered, but her gaze sharpened—daggers hidden behind silk. "Maybe Aira can help me choose something… she has such simple taste."
Aira's hand, wrapped around her teacup, tightened slightly. She forced her lips into a small smile, though her eyes were dim. "Sure… if you want," she murmured, her voice quiet.
The car ride later was suffocating. The black luxury SUV glided smoothly down the road, its tinted windows hiding the unease inside.
Lily sat near the window, absently scrolling through her phone. Mira sat beside her, back straight, arms crossed protectively. Elena, across from them, swung her legs lightly, trying to break the silence. Sana lounged against the leather seat, smirking as if enjoying the tension. Celeste sat in the center, glowing with false sweetness. Aira sat pressed against the far corner, her gaze fixed on the blur of trees outside, her fingers twisted tightly together in her lap.
Elena finally broke the silence with a sigh. "I still can't believe Liam didn't tell us earlier. But… she's fine, I guess." Her tone was uncertain, more curious than thrilled.
Sana let out a short laugh, leaning forward. "She's better than some girls who throw themselves at men and still get rejected." Her eyes flicked deliberately toward Aira, her smile cruel. "Right, Aira?"
Aira flinched almost imperceptibly, her gaze still locked on the passing world outside. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped her own hands, her breathing quickening.
Mira's sharp voice cut through. "Sana, enough."
But Celeste spoke first, her tone smooth, dripping with false concern. "Oh no, it's fine, Mira. It's easy to get emotional when you're young and confused." She leaned slightly toward Aira, her smile gentle yet suffocating. "Aira, I hope there's no… resentment between us."
Aira finally turned her head, forcing her lips into another faint smile. Her voice was soft, nearly breaking. "There's not."
Meanwhile, back at the mansion
The heavy oak doors of the study closed with a soft thud. The room smelled faintly of old books and whiskey.
Alec stood near the fireplace, arms crossed, his expression hard. His father, Mr. Langford, sat behind the carved mahogany desk, his brows furrowed deeply.
"Dad," Alec said, his voice edged with frustration, "you saw it too, right? Aira's not okay. She was shaking the entire evening."
Mr. Langford leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily. He tapped his fingers against the desk before answering. "I saw… and Celeste…" His gaze darkened. "Something feels off. I've met enough people to know when someone's putting on a mask."
Alec's jaw clenched. "Liam wouldn't bring someone like that into this family unless he's blind… or being played." He paused, running a hand through his hair. His voice softened, almost pained. "And Aira—she's pretending to be fine. But she's falling apart."
At the mall
The group moved through racks of glittering dresses. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting golden light across satin and silk. The girls carried shopping bags, their chatter echoing through the store, though the undercurrent of tension never lifted.
Celeste lifted a shimmering silver gown from the rack, pressing it against her body as she twirled slightly toward the mirror. She turned to Aira, her eyes bright with feigned innocence. "Do you think Liam will love this on me, Aira?"
Aira's lips parted. Her voice came out soft, empty, like air escaping a broken shell. "He already loves you. Everything looks good on you."
Celeste's smile widened, her reflection in the mirror gleaming with triumph. "Right answer," she said smoothly.
Later, in the changing room
The door clicked shut. The fluorescent light above buzzed faintly. Aira stood near the corner, her arms folded across her chest, while Celeste stepped closer, the sound of her heels sharp against the tiled floor.
Celeste leaned in, her voice low, venom dripping beneath the sweetness. "You really thought he'd love someone like you?" Her lips curved into a cruel smile as her eyes roamed Aira's face. "You're pitiful. Standing here, pretending to be strong. But I see through you."
She brushed past Aira deliberately, her perfume suffocating. "You're shattered. Just like your place in his life—broken."
Aira's throat closed, her chest burning. But she said nothing. She only stood still, nails digging into her palms, holding back the scream clawing inside her.
That evening
The mansion was lit once again. Family gathered in the lounge, glasses of champagne clinking faintly. Mrs. Langford stood proudly, her smile wide.
"We've decided to announce the official date soon!" she declared. "I want this to be the grandest Langford celebration yet."
Mr. Langford stiffened in his chair, his jaw tight. He gave only a short, clipped sound of acknowledgment. "Hmm."
Thomas, seated beside him, nodded with forced calm. "As long as our families stay together and traditions are kept… I have no objection."
Jayden, lounging in an armchair with his glass of whiskey, muttered under his breath, "This is going to destroy her."
No one answered.
Later that night
Aira sat curled on her bed in the darkness. The curtains were drawn, only the faint light of the moon slipping through. She clutched the bedsheet tightly against her chest, her body trembling.
No tears remained. Only the shaking. Only silence.
He was never mine… but did he really have to be hers?