Page 139 of Scarred in Silence
I wanted this new life to feel like peace.
But there’s still blood beneath the surface.
Still names without closure.
And Harmony’s might be the next one on the list.
49
Astra
2 Months Later
The sound of champagne flutes clinking and low laughter filters through the garden like music. Twinkle lights drape from the trees, throwing halos around every head, as if trying to sanctify the sinners gathered here. It’s all too perfect. Too bright. Too clean.
Lucien’s hand is warm at the small of my back, anchoring me. He’s wearing black, of course—tailored and deadly. I’m in a champagne slip dress that hugs my body perfectly. My hair is platinum, curled just enough to look soft, not strategic. The ring on my finger catches the fading sun. Just a raw, pure-cut oval. It’s stunning. He said I deserved something that hadn’t been stained.
“You good?” he leans in, his breath grazing my temple.
“Yeah,” I lie, smiling.
The truth is, I’ve been watching the entrance like a hawk for the last hour. Harmony’s name sat on the invite list—sent, not responded to—but part of me knew she’d come. She always shows up eventually. Just not always in the ways you expect.
Evelyn floats over with two glasses of sparkling cider, Dante trailing her with a tray of chocolate-covered strawberries like some dark prince turned butler. I raise a brow at him.
“Didn’t peg you for catering staff,” I tease.
He smirks. “Lucien said if I didn’t help, he’d throw me in a cage.”
Lucien shrugs. “Still might.”
Evelyn passes me a glass and whispers, “You look beautiful. Like… scary beautiful. I think I want to marry you a little.”
“Tell Lucien,” I deadpan, “He’ll loan me out for the right price.”
We all laugh, and for a second it’s easy. Normal. If you don’t look too hard at the scars beneath the silk, you might even believe we’re just four people in love with life. But I know better. There’s always a countdown ticking somewhere.
Dante pulls Lucien aside to talk business, and Evelyn grabs my hand to pull me toward a group of her college friends. I play nice, answer questions about the proposal, and smile when I’m told I’m glowing. But something inside me is…off.
I keep thinking about Harmony. Where the Hell is she?
“She’ll come,” Evelyn whispers in my ear when she catches me scanning the lawn again. “You’re her favorite girl. Even if she can’t say it.”
“I don’t know who she is anymore,” I murmur.
Evelyn gives me that look—equal parts pity and warning.
As the sun dips low and the first stars shimmer above, the DJ shifts from lo-fi instrumentals to some mellow acoustic track. Lucien returns to my side just in time for a round of speeches. Dante roasts him for being “an emotionally unavailable asshole who somehow managed to trap the only person more emotionally constipated than himself.”
I laugh until my chest aches. Lucien just wraps an arm around me and kisses my cheek like he’s sealing some invisible vow.
Then the servers bring out dessert, and the gifts start stacking. Boxes with silken bows. Gift bags with tissue paper the color of bone. Everyone is seated now. Watching. The air tightens, the way it always does before something goes terribly wrong.
And then—
“Harmony?” Evelyn’s voice cuts through the chatter.
I turn.
