Page 23 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
Smiling now, she placed a perfectly manicured hand on her son's shoulder. "Our family has even more reason to celebrate. Crispin has asked Helga to be his wife."
The words dropped like a stone into the centre of the table.
A few gasps, along with scattered applause. Helga smiled shyly, dabbing at the corner of her mouth with a linen napkin like someone modestly receiving a crown.
Crispin looked...off. His smile was there, but brittle. His eyes, however, were not on Helga.
They were on Aria.
Pinned to her like she was the only one in the room not clapping.
She kept her gaze pinned to her plate, her breathing slow and shallow as she tried to steady the tremor in her fingers. Her knife slipped slightly against the porcelain. Soon, the clatter of cutlery resumed and glasses clinked. Conversation continued in low, cultured tones. Only her world had come to a standstill.
Her vision blurred for a moment, and a single tear escaped-soundless and swift-leaving a thin trail down her cheek before she could stop it.
She brushed it away surreptitiously with the corner of her napkin and, finally, cautiously, looked up.
And that's when she saw it.
They were all looking at her.
A satisfied little smile rested on Crispin's mother's lips and something smug lurked behind her eyes, like a queen watching an enemy pawn fall.
His father, with his arm resting on the back of his chair, wore the same knowing expression-one that said this is how things are.
His sister, Alice, didn't smirk. But the pity in her eyes was worse. It was soft, apologetic.
Helga sat beside Crispin like the queen on a hunt. Her smile was delicate, composed, but her eyes were cold, unblinking. Satisfied.
Even Ophelia looked at her with a kind of quiet sorrow. Her lips pressed together, her shoulders rigid. Her eyes too full.
They all knew.
They all had known.
Knew what Aria had been to him.
Knew what she hadn't been.
Knew what she would never be.
She was the insect under a magnifying glass, shrivelling not from flame, but from the dispassionate gaze of a careless schoolboy.
And Crispin...
He was still looking at her.
Aria sat back in her chair, the opals at her throat suddenly suffocating. The taste of rosemary and roast had turned to ash on her tongue. Around her, the laughter rose like water, and she, somehow, was still drowning in silence.
When she finally glanced sideways, Ophelia was watching her, not with pity, but with confusion. Her eyes were soft, but her lips were pressed into a thin line.
Aria then straightened her spine and picked up a random fork.
Chapter 16
Aria
The rest of the evening passed in a blur.
