Page 140 of Scarred in Silence
She’s standing at the edge of the crowd. No announcement. No RSVP. Just… there. Wearing a long black coat, oversized sunglasses, and a slit dress that doesn’t match the mood. Her hair’s longer than I remember. Her face is unreadable.
Lucien straightens beside me, subtly stepping forward.
She gives a small wave, and I see it—just for a second. Her hand trembles.
I open my mouth to say something, anything—
But she’s already sitting down and smiling like a doll with cracked porcelain underneath.
Lucien leans down, voice tight. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”
* * *
The pile of gifts in front of me looks obscene. All that glossy wrapping. All that careful presentation. Like anyone here really believes I deserve any of it.
I peel open a card with some perfect cursive handwriting—“To the most beautiful couple. May your love outshine even your past.” I don’t recognize the name, and I don’t care to. It goes in the discard pile.
Lucien’s leg brushes mine under the table as he opens a box for me. Crystal champagne flutes. More delicate than either of us will ever be.
“That’ll last about six hours,” I mutter.
“Generous,” Lucien murmurs.
People laugh. I’m still watching Harmony.
She hasn’t spoken more than two words since she arrived. She picked a seat at the far end of the gift table, crossing her legs, arms folded tight. She’s smiling, but it’s wrong. It’s frozen. Like she’s trying to remember what joy is supposed to feel like.
Evelyn leans toward me. “She’s off.”
“I know.”
I shift in my seat, tearing open a box wrapped in midnight black. There’s no tag.
Inside, a hand-bound leather journal with silver-edged pages. My initials are pressed into the cover.
I stare at it, something twisting deep in my gut.
“Who’s this from?” I ask, voice too loud, too sharp.
Lucien lifts the lid. Checks the box. “No card.”
I don’t like this.
Harmony stands suddenly. Her chair scrapes the floor, and every head turns. She brushes nonexistent lint off her dress.
“Sorry,” she says with that same too-sweet smile. “Didn’t mean to make a scene.”
“You’re fine,” I offer, though my voice is dry. “You just got here.”
She doesn’t answer me. Doesn’t sit. She just looks down at the gifts, then back up at me, eyes glassy, hands twitching at her sides.
“I remembered something,” she says.
The words feel like stones in my mouth. “What?”
But she doesn’t reply. She turns, heels tapping out a goodbye message none of us were prepared for.
“Harmony?” Evelyn calls.
