Emily
"Why do you have to go through with this engagement? Don't you love me anymore?"
I paused.
I was standing near the restroom, watching them, they couldn't even close the door properly, it simply showed how foolish they were
The sound of Lily's voice, pleading and soft, carried through the dim evening air. It was intimate, vulnerable.
Nathan's arm tightened around her shoulder. "It's not like that, Lily," he said gently. "You know this isn't a choice I could make on my own. It's… it's been decided since we were children. I don't have a say."
Coward.
Lily's lips trembled, but she pressed closer to him. Her cheek brushed his, and I noticed the subtle tilt of her head, the way she inhaled sharply, eyes flashing toward me even as she clung to him, a smirk on her lips.
I had expected this.
I had known, long before tonight, that there was history here. That something had existed between them, something tender, something unspoken. But the sight of it now—Lily's quiet defiance and Nathan's careful patience—made the irritation bubble in me. Not because I cared about Nathan. Not because I was jealous. I was above that.
It was the disrespect I felt, the audacity of their little display, right here at our engagement party.
In public, where anyone could see them, the recklessness.
Nathan leaned down, brushing his lips to Lily's, soft at first, as if testing the waters, as if this kiss could smooth over the edges of their disagreement. Lily responded instantly, her hand moving to his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, eyes dark and smug as they found mine across the crowd.
That smirk. That deliberate, brazen look.
She was claiming him. In front of me. And worse, she was daring me to care.
Nathan's lips moaned against hers, and I felt a small, uncomfortable twist in my stomach—not desire, but intrusion. The kiss deepened, unhurried, intimate, and for a moment I caught the faint scent of his cologne—the one Lily had always leaned into, the one I could never let myself forget.
I turned away.
The polite mask slid back into place as I returned to the party, my heels clicking against the polished stone, a smile painted carefully across my face. I raised a hand, nodded, and murmured the usual pleasantries to distant cousins, long-lost aunts, and family friends whose names I didn't remember. My glass never left my hand. My voice never faltered.
Inside, I was counting the minutes, measuring their audacity, remembering the way Nathan's hand rested on her waist, the ease with which she leaned into him. Their little performance of love—so obvious, so calculated—made my skin crawl. Not because I wanted Nathan, but because I had spent years learning to control my own space, my own image, my own boundaries. And now they trampled over them as though they were entitled to it.
I knew their story, their history. I had known before tonight. But witnessing it firsthand, seeing the deliberate glances and small, sharp gestures—Lily's hand brushing against his chest, her eyes catching mine and holding it, a silent dare—it was audacious. And it made me… angry. Pissed.
I sipped my drink, pretending to admire the floral arrangements. Nothing about this evening belonged to me, and yet, I had to navigate it. Smile, nod, participate. That was all anyone expected. That was all I had ever been allowed to expect.
"Emily!"
A warm, friendly voice broke through my thoughts. I turned to see Mrs. Carter, her hands clasped in delight, a bouquet of orchids spilling from her arms. "I'm so glad you're here! Do come over, we haven't had a proper chance to talk."
I nodded politely, adjusting the hem of my dress and letting a tight smile take over my features. The world did not need to know I had just witnessed a kiss that wasn't mine to care about. The world needed me calm, composed, and presentable.
I moved toward the Carters, keeping my head high. A few well-placed laughs, a small blush when someone commented on the engagement, polite appreciation when gifts were given. My mask was flawless, practiced.
And all the while, I felt it: the weight of eyes on me. Not from Lily. Not from Nathan. Someone else. Somewhere across the garden, in the shadows beneath the marble terrace, someone was watching me.
I turned back, scanning the crowd, my eyes met ones I'd never seen before, he kept his eyes on mine, and I looked away, something about the look in his yes unsettled me.
When I looked back, he was engrossed in discussions with a group of men who kept bowing slightly as they shook his hands
He seemed like someone important but I'd never seem him, I'd probably ask Nathan later when he's done with his 'rendezvous'
I moved on, greeting more guests, chatting in carefully measured tones, pouring myself another drink to maintain appearances. Toasts. Polite laughter. Polished responses. Smooth nods. Observant eyes. And beneath it all, a simmering awareness of my surroundings, of the players in this little theater, and of the game I had already been forced to join.