Page 19 of Sebastian.

“Ha, yes, I did. She was in the bathroom, apparently.”

My mother raises one perfectly arched brow. “Oh? Do you believe that?”

I chuckle despite myself, wishing that my only problem in life was Hannah and her mysterious doings. “Maybe not one hundred percent, but I don’t think she was getting into any trouble, so I’m not overly concerned.”

I turn to my mom and take a deep breath, knowing what I have to ask, but not wanting to. “Mom…? Listen, you don’t have to say yes, but can I stay here at home with you a little longer? I’m just not sure what the future holds right now.”

Mom doesn’t even seem surprised, only accepting. “Oh, my dear. You can stay here for as long as you want. You and the kids, if needed. Your bedroom will always be your bedroom,” she says, and I feel a surge of gratitude for her unwavering support. Her reassuring words offer a glimmer of comfort, a lifeline to hold onto amid the storm.

But still, I can't shake the feeling that I've let her down, that I've failed in some way. Admitting that she might be right—or that she was right so long ago about Seb—is not easy for me, but the burden of my decisions are inescapable, now.

So turning back to my mother, I playfully ask, “Aren’t you gonna say something like, ‘I told you so?’ You’ve teased me about this far less than I expected.”

She looks at me with a gentle, if amused, smile. “Well, my dear, I must say seeing you unhappy doesn’t bring me much joy. It never has,” she admits, before heaving a long, weary sigh. “Sometimes I wish I could be wrong when it comes to these sorts of things.”

“By things, you mean Sebastian, right? Or my own wedding?” I say, half-joking and half-serious, trying to lighten the mood even a little bit. The situation is far from humorous, but anyone can see the irony in it.

“Precisely,” she replies, her voice carrying a hint of solemnity. After a second, she must be able to read my miserable thoughts, and she frowns. “Darling, tonight is a night for celebration, not all these agonizing topics. Should we talk about something else?”

“Okay,” I relent. “We can try, at least. I just…” Inhaling slowly, I manage to keep my tone even. “I just so wish he could be here….”

“Well, he isn’t,” Mom says with a sense of finality. She briefly rests her hand on my cheek, making me look into her eyes. “But I am here. Men come and go, but I, as your mother, will always be here for you. Even when I disapprove firmly of your choices.”

“Like my wedding?” I ask again, but this time amusement threading on my tone, and Mom’s hand falls from my face as she sighs and laughs sadly.

“Yes, my love. Like your wedding.”

I take another sip of champagne, the bubbles fizzing in my mouth. Will we find a way to mend the fractures in our relationship, or will we drift further apart? I wish I had the answers. Even just a single one to settle my soul at least a bit.

We eat, and the variety of dishes is impressive and delicious even when I have no appetite. There’s food I’m more familiar with, and traditional Chinese cuisine, which Roxanne describes to me as each plate arrives.

Once the plates are cleared, I notice my mother wiping her hands delicately on her napkin and starting to stand. As she rises, the music comes to a stop, and the entire room turns their attention to her, ready to listen to what she has to say. Holding her glass of champagne, she begins, “I promise I'll be brief.” Her voice carries a mix of warmth and wisdom as she addresses her grandson, Andries. “My dear grandson, thank you for your wonderful speech earlier today. It's a privilege and an honor to be hosting your wedding at my modest property.” There's a touch of humor in her words, and the room fills with laughter. Mom then continues, “I know how hard it is when your child gets married, and all of the joyful and bittersweet things one feels. As a parent, you never quite feel mentally ready for it. You, my dear grandson, got married exactly at the same age as your mother did, so believe me, I know a thing or two about that.” She glances over at me, and I can't help but smile. Despite our differences, my mother and I share a bond that runs deep. We've both experienced the joys and challenges of marriage, and I'm grateful that she's here with me. “Nevertheless, despite your disagreements with your mom, here she is at your side for one of the most important days of your life. Not everyone is like us,butwe are family, and as family, we will always be there for each other. May the years ahead be filled with nothing but lasting love and happiness. To Roxanne & Andries.”

I raise my glass along with the rest of the guests, but inside, everything seems to ache. I don’t even try to stop myself from looking for Sebastian among the crowded tables one more time, even when I know in my heart that it’s in vain. As I search the room, my heart sinks with every passing moment that Sebastian remains absent. The lively reception around me feels like a mocking facade, taunting me with its cheerful atmosphere while I am consumed by heartbreak and bitterness. How could he do this to our son, to me, to our family?

Mom’s words, about family always being there for each other, now feel like hollow platitudes, a stark contrast to the reality of Sebastian's betrayal. His absence on this important day is a painful reminder of his disapproval and lack of support.

Anger surges within me, mingling with the heartbreak, creating a whirlwind of emotions that threatens to overwhelm me. I am torn between wanting him here and not wanting to see his face, to be reminded of his actions against me. The uncertainty of our future together fills me with resentment for the man that I love.

Deep down, I know that I deserve better than to be treated this way, and I am resolved to find the strength to confront that harsh reality. Like Mom said, family will always be there for one another, and in my moment of need, Sebastian is nowhere to be found. I can feel the change inside of me, love slowly bleeding away into bitterness, and a part of me feels certain that what he’s done to me tonight is unforgivable.

6

Julia

I can’t keep feelingsorry for myself. I know this. But still, the thought is tempting. This sort of misery has become almost comforting for me. Anything is better than the disappointed rage I felt when Sebastian left me alone in the billiards room earlier today.

The wine and champagne flow generously, adding a flush of warmth to the already jovial wedding. I’ve indulged quite a bit myself, and my head feels like it’s full of cotton, my cheeks hot. I’m not sure what exactly I’ve said, but it makes my sister Yara laugh uproariously. The fact that I can’t recall anything moment to moment lets me know that it’s time to slow down.

So, I excuse myself and head to the bathroom, but the one outside is occupied. I huff, a little chagrined that Hannah was telling me the truth earlier. I was so sure that her bathroom-being-full excuse was a lie. Deciding not to wait, I walk inside the house. It’s more familiar to me here anyway, and considering my current state, that’s a good thing.

As I make my way through the hallways of my childhood home, I overhear some of the staff talking nearby––their voices echoing within my tipsy mind. Just like the multitude of halls and rooms here at my mother’s estate, the staff is also well known to me. Some of them I’ve known for my entire life. I almost stop to greet them, feeling overly friendly, but now I pick up on their secretive tone and it gives me pause. They’re in one of the smaller parlors, and I stop right outside the doorway so I can still hear them, but they can’t see me. I’m not usually one to eavesdrop, but something is telling me that what they’re saying has to do with me.

When I’m immediately proven right, it makes my stomach turn. Clarissa, one of the maids, says, “Gosh, poor Julia, do you really think she’s gonna get a divorce?”

Another voice, one I don’t recognize from sound alone, chimes in. “I don’t know, but it can’t be an easy situation for the poor woman. If my husband would come all the way to the venue where the wedding of our son was being held, only to let me know he’s not attending, I’d definitely hand him the paperwork. And maybe a slap to the face, too.”

Their words hit me like a sudden gust of cold wind. My private turmoil is the topic of discussion among the staff, and it stings to know that even within the seemingly safe walls of my mother’s home, I can't escape the whispers and speculations. Whether it’s Gabi asking me to my face, or the maids talking behind my back, my name seems to be on everyone’s tongue.

---