Evangeline couldn't bring herself to run home, not yet. The thought of crossing paths with Serena made her stomach twist. She could already picture that smug smile, that delighted little laugh Serena gave whenever she caught her faltering. If Eva returned now, trembling and shaken, her sister would seize the chance to mock her until she broke.
No, she needed time to breathe, to steady the trembling in her hands, the quiver still running through her chest. The thought of Adrian and his raging eyes as he held her wrists still haunts her and she needed a place for security.
There was only one person she could turn to for that: Madam Trevor.
The kind old woman had always been patient with her, offering a warm smile and a cup of tea when the world felt too cruel. Though her grandson, Milo, still avoided Eva's gaze since the last village gossip, Madam Trevor herself never judged. She would always wait by the little white picket fence every afternoon, a shawl around her shoulders, watching the road as though expecting her.
By now, she should have been there. But as Eva approached, the fence stood empty.
"Madam Trevor?" she called softly.
No answer.
Her voice came out smaller than she meant it to, still frayed from her encounter with Adrian. Her heart hadn't stopped pounding since, every rustle of leaves made her glance over her shoulder, expecting him to appear from behind a tree, that same wild look in his eyes.
She tried again, louder this time. "Madam Trevor?"
Still nothing.
Eva hesitated at the gate, her fingers brushing the iron latch. Perhaps the old woman had fallen asleep. But there was something in the air—stillness. Too still. Even the birds seemed to have gone silent.
Her throat tightened. Should she knock? Call for Milo? Or simply leave and return tomorrow? Things are far too awkward with Milo, after all, she feared the idea that meeting him for such a reason will only trouble him and made their relationship more strained.
But the thought of going home, of being alone, made her feel even worse.
"Milo?" she called out, rounding the side of the house. The small farmland stretched out before her, but the fields were empty. Not a soul in sight. The tools were left scattered near the fence, as though dropped mid work and that felt weird.
Unease prickled at her skin.
She took a careful step toward the hut. "Milo are you there?"
No response. She sighed, starting to turn away, when a sound froze her mid-step.
A giggle. That light and familiar set of laughter.
It floated through the air from the direction of the hut, echoing faintly, as if someone were trying, and failing, to stifle it.
Eva's breath caught. She knew that sound. She had heard it countless times growing up, echoing through their shared bedroom walls, followed by whispered secrets, Serena.
Her pulse quickened.
No, that couldn't be right. Serena shouldn't be here. Serena couldn't be here.
Yet that laugh came again, that mocking tune, like a cruel ghost of her childhood.
Eva turned toward the hut, dread crawling slowly up her spine. The world around her seemed to narrow, the air thick, her heartbeat deafening in her ears. She reached for the door, fingers trembling as they hovered above the cold metal handle.
By the time she pulled it open, it was already too late. The hinges groaned softly, and the door swung wide to reveal the scene within.
Milo stood with his arms wrapped tightly around Serena. His face was buried against her chest, his breath heavy, while Serena's fingers tangled lazily in his hair. Yet it wasn't the intimacy that struck Eva, it was the expression Serena wore when she looked up.
Not love. Not tenderness. It was triumph.
The look of someone who had won.
Even during this what Serena had in mind was how she had won against her. As though breaking her heart was a competition.
Their laughter still lingered in the air like the echo of a cruel joke, but it faltered as the light from the doorway spilled over them. Milo's hand stiffened where it touched Serena's waist. The door wasn't supposed to open as he had locked it and yet, it had.
When he turned, his eyes met Evangeline's green eyes, wide with a stricken look. Like a slap in his face, the shock, the disbelief, and something worse than either— the disappointment poured cold water over his once feverish heart.
The air between them froze.
"Why did you stop?" Serena's playful tone faltered, but only for a moment. Her gaze followed Milo's, then found the doorway.
"Oh... sister." Her smirk returned even sharper now.
The way she said it, so taunting, cut deeper than any insult.
Evangeline didn't say a word toward her younger sister, she didn't feel like she needed to do so. The fact that Serena found hurting her as a game was clear enough to her now. At first it was Adrian. Serena should have known that Adrian would't be happy if he heard that she had met another man other than him, yet she still did it to rile him up, causing for her to be hurt in the process.
There was no way that Serena wouldn't have known she would be put in harm's way by her action.She shouldn't. Yet did it even matter to Serena?
Serena always knew how to destroy her.
Always.
A hollow ache pressed against Eva's ribs, suffocating her anger before it could bloom. She couldn't even hate her, couldn't due to their blood relation, leaving her with only a sense of helplessness, that suffocating emotions wrapping around her chest.
"M– Miss Evangeline," Milo stammered, his face draining of color, panic flaring in his eyes. He looked like a boy caught stealing, like someone who'd only now realized what he had destroyed. "Please— I didn't—"
But she didn't listen.
She turned away, her steps uneven as though the ground itself refused to hold her. Her legs were shaky but she couldn't fall down now, not now.
"Eva— wait! Please!"
Milo stumbled after her, shoving past the doorway. Behind him, Serena scoffed, rubbing the elbow she had struck against the wooden wall when he pushed her aside. Her frown lingered for a second, but then she chuckled— softly at first, then louder, until it spilled into full laughter.
"This is payback for that slap, Eva," she said under her breath, her tone almost gleeful. "Don't blame me too much." She laughed again, feeling not even a single guilt after how she had destroyed her sister's heart to pieces that nothing could ever glue it back to normal.
Milo finally caught up to Evangeline before she could disappear down the path. He reached for her arm, desperate, but she jerked away before his fingers could graze her skin. She was still trembling, especially with the thought of another man holding her skin again, hurting her.
"Eva— please," he said breathlessly. "Let me explain—"
"Explain what, Milo?" she cut in sharply.
Her voice trembled, but not with sadness, rather with restraint. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes red, glimmering with unshed tears.
And Milo, so full of excuses and apologies, couldn't find a single word that didn't sound empty.
"Do you know what I feel right now?" Eva's voice trembled, though she tried to steady it. "I feel like a fool."
She glanced back toward the hut, making sure Serena wasn't there before continuing, "How foolish of me to think you were ever on my side. All those times I confided in you, told you what she did— and yet, you and her..." she couldn't complete her words without feeling sick. "Was this why you had been avoiding me?"
"N–No, Eva, it's not like that," Milo stammered, reaching a step closer. "Serena said you needed space, that you wanted to be left alone, and I—"
"And you believed her?" Eva let out a shaky breath, one that sounded halfway between a laugh and a sob. "After everything I told you about her? After you agreed how she was dangerous?"
She turned her face away, her voice cracking as she forced the next words out. "It's as if everything I said to you meant nothing— just words carried off by the wind."
Her eyes lifted to his face then, full of pain and disbelief. "I thought you were my friend, Milo."
He opened his mouth, but no words came— just guilt and fear etched deep into his expression.
Eva stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head. The exhaustion in her chest was heavier than the anger now. "I can't do this anymore," she whispered.
First Adrian and now Milo.
How utterly disappointing men could be— each one promising a comfort of a friend only to pour down cold water full of disappointment.
Clutching her book to her chest, Eva turned away, her tears falling silently as she walked off into the gathering dusk.
From the carriage window not far away, Hades watched her retreating form. The corner of his mouth curved faintly as he murmured, almost to himself, "Poor you. Humans are always so disappointing aren't they, angel?"