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1253 Words
Daphne locked the washroom door behind her and leaned against it, her chest rising and falling too fast.
Breathe, Daphne. Just breathe.
But her lungs refused to listen.
The mirror reflected a girl she barely recognized. Pale. Hollow-eyed. Lips trembling as if they had forgotten how to smile. She gripped the edge of the sink, her fingers cold despite the warmth of the room.
So this is it, she thought bitterly.
This is what loving Gabriel Salvatore gets her.
Humiliation. Silence. A front-row seat to her own rejection.
Tears slipped down before she could stop them. She pressed her palm over her mouth, stifling the sound. Crying loudly would only invite questions. And questions always led to pity. She hated pity.
He smirked.
That single expression replayed in her mind again and again, sharper than any insult.
He didn’t even deny it.
Not once did he say he was married.
Not once did he look at her and choose her.
The truth settled heavily in her chest.
Her feelings for Gabriel were useless.
Pointless.
A burden she carried alone.
She had built hope out of scraps. Out of his silence. Out of brief glances and imagined concern. She had convinced herself that maybe, one day, he would soften. That time would change him.
How foolish.
You cannot melt stone with tears, Daphne.
She wiped her face quickly, splashing cold water to hide the redness. She practiced a neutral expression in the mirror. Not happy. Not sad. Just empty enough to survive.
When she stepped out, the music and chatter washed over her again. Laughter. Glasses clinking. Wealth parading as happiness.
And then she saw her.
Miranda Salvatore.
She stood near the center of the hall, elegant as ever, dressed in a soft ivory saree with minimal jewelry. Power radiated from her presence, not loud, not forceful, but undeniable. People gathered around her instinctively, eager for her attention.
Miranda’s eyes found Daphne.
And she smiled.
A real smile. Warm. Gentle. As if she was genuinely happy to see her.
Daphne’s throat tightened instantly.
She looked away for a second, afraid Miranda would see the tears still clinging to her lashes. But when she looked back, Miranda was already walking toward her, her steps unhurried, confident.
“Daphne,” Miranda said kindly, reaching for her hands. “There you are.”
Her touch was warm. Grounding.
Daphne froze, unsure how to respond.
Miranda tilted her head slightly, studying her face. “Are you alright, child?”
The concern in her voice almost broke Daphne.
She nodded quickly. Too quickly. “Yes, Grandma. I’m fine.”
Miranda didn’t look convinced. But before she could say more, another voice cut in.
“Daphne.”
Mrs. Jennifer Salvatore appeared beside them, her smile tight, eyes sharp. She placed a hand on Daphne’s arm, her grip light but controlling.
“Go sit properly,” Jennifer said under her breath. “And smile. Miranda doesn’t need to see you like this.”
Miranda turned to her daughter-in-law, brows knitting faintly. “Like what, Jennifer?”
Jennifer laughed lightly. “Oh, you know. She gets tired easily.”
Daphne swallowed hard and forced a small smile, exactly as instructed.
Miranda looked between them, clearly sensing something off, but she said nothing. Instead, she squeezed Daphne’s hands gently.
“How has everything been, Daphne?” Miranda asked. “You’re settling in well, I hope.”
“Yes, Grandma,” Daphne replied softly. “Everything is… good.”
A lie. But a practiced one.
Miranda nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Good. Cedric couldn’t make it today. Important meeting overseas.”
Cedric.
Gabriel’s father.
“Oh,” Daphne said politely. “I see.”
Jennifer scoffed quietly. “Meetings are always more important to him than family.”
Miranda shot her a warning look. “Enough, Jennifer.”
She turned back to Daphne. “Have you met him yet, Daphne?”
Daphne shook her head. “No, Grandma. I haven’t.”
“Hm.” Miranda sighed. “It’s been years. After the divorce, things… changed.”
Daphne stayed silent. Jennifer, however, did not.
“Changed?” Jennifer said sharply. “He abandoned his children and married that woman. Julia.”
Miranda’s jaw tightened. “He remarried. Yes. That does not make him a villain.”
Jennifer folded her arms. “He has two sons with her. One is twenty-two, the other twelve. Chuck and Rody. Spoiled. Arrogant. Just like their mother.”
Daphne lowered her gaze, uncomfortable.
She had never met them. But Jennifer spoke of them often. Always with disdain. Over time, Daphne had unconsciously painted them as monsters in her mind. Strangers she was taught to dislike without reason.
Miranda noticed Daphne’s silence.
“You mustn’t form opinions without meeting people, Daphne,” Miranda said calmly. “That’s how misunderstandings grow.”
“Yes, Grandma,” Daphne murmured.
Jennifer looked displeased but said nothing.
They moved to sit at a nearby table. Clarissa and Hope were already there. Gabriel was nowhere in sight.
Miranda took the seat at the head of the table. Jennifer sat beside her. Clarissa sat stiffly next to Howard, who had just returned. Hope scrolled through her phone, uninterested.
Daphne sat quietly at the end.
Conversation flowed around her. Business. Donations. Politics. She listened without participating.
Then Miranda leaned back slightly and looked at Clarissa.
“So,” Miranda said casually. “When are you going to give me a grandchild, hmm?”
The table went still.
Clarissa’s face flushed instantly. Her fingers tightened around her glass.
“Grandma,” Clarissa said nervously, forcing a laugh. “We’re… trying.”
Howard shifted uncomfortably, eyes dropping to the table.
Miranda nodded thoughtfully. “Good. The Salvatore family needs heirs.”
Then her gaze shifted.
To Daphne.
“And you, Daphne?” Miranda asked gently. “What about you?”
Daphne’s heart stopped.
She felt every pair of eyes turn toward her.
She opened her mouth. No words came out.
Jennifer stiffened beside Miranda. Hope looked up, suddenly interested. Clarissa avoided Daphne’s gaze entirely.
Daphne felt exposed. Cornered.
“I—” Her voice trembled. She cleared her throat. “Grandma… I—”
Miranda smiled softly. “No need to be shy, child.”
Daphne glanced instinctively around the hall.
Gabriel wasn’t there.
Of course he wasn’t.
“I… don’t know,” Daphne said finally, barely above a whisper.
Silence followed.
Miranda studied Daphne’s face carefully, as if searching for something hidden beneath the surface. Something everyone else ignored.
Jennifer broke the tension with a forced laugh. “They’re young, Mother. Plenty of time.”
Miranda hummed but didn’t look away from Daphne.
“Time only matters when there is willingness,” Miranda said calmly.
Her words landed heavy.
Daphne felt something crack inside her chest.
Because willingness was the one thing missing.
Not from her.
From him.
Miranda reached out and patted Daphne’s hand. “Don’t worry, Daphne. Everything happens when it’s meant to.”
Daphne nodded, though her vision blurred.
The party continued, but she barely registered it. Her thoughts spiraled.
Did Miranda know?
Did she sense the distance?
Or was she simply blind like the rest of them?
Later that night, Daphne returned to her room. The small, cold room behind the mansion.
She closed the door quietly and leaned against it.
No sound. No footsteps. No voice calling her name.
She sank onto the bed and stared at the wall.
Two years.
Two years of waiting. Of hoping. Of loving someone who never asked for it.
- Writer
