Welcome Home
1264 Words
Three days passed in silence.
No calls from Jacob. No more messages from Claudia.
Just the single invite for Sunday dinner, sitting in Selena’s phone like a loaded gun. She didn’t open it again. She didn’t need to. The words were memorized.
On the fourth morning, Dale drove her to the Laurent estate.
The gates opened before the car even reached them. Servants stood at attention along the driveway, posture perfect, eyes down. Flower arrangements lined the path—white lilies and deep red roses—arranged like she was returning from war and not a week away.
Jacob stood on the steps.
“Welcome home, Selena. I knew you’d come back home,” he said, arms open.
His voice carried the practiced warmth of a man performing for an audience.
Behind him, a small gathering waited in the courtyard. Two of his business associates in tailored suits, the house staff lined up stiffly, and Claudia in a black silk dress, smiling like she hadn’t sent a death threat disguised as a dress fitting.
Selena forced her mouth into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Thank you, Dad,” she said slowly, stepping aside to avoid his embrace without pushing him.
The gathering was short and staged. Toasts with champagne she didn’t drink. Polite questions about her time away that none of them wanted answered.
She gave rehearsed replies, nodded where she was supposed to, and kept her hands clenched under the table so no one saw them shake.
Claudia watched her the entire time. She never said a word. She didn’t need to.
When it was over, Jacob kissed her forehead and said, “Rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Selena nodded and went inside without looking back.
She realized Carlos wasn’t around but didn’t dare ask.
---
By evening, the house was empty again.
The guests had left. Jacob had gone to his study with Claudia, hugging her like she was a jackpot he’d won.
Instead of going to her room, Selena went straight to her mother’s room.
The room smelled the same as she remembered. Old perfume, cedar, and the soft makeup she always used, neatly arranged on her vanity, just as she’d left it. The sight made her throat tighten.
She walked into the closet and sat on the short chair close to the mirror, staring at the compartments neatly arranged.
Then her gaze shifted to the deep red dress hanging behind the glass, untouched since Claudia wore it. The emerald necklace lay on its velvet stand, cold and heavy under the light.
She locked the door.
The click echoed too loud in the small space.
For ten minutes she stood there, staring at the dress. Her fingers traced the glass clicking gently.
Then she undressed, pulled the gown off the hanger, and slipped into it—wrapping her arms around her body like she was hugging her late mother.
It fit better than it had on Claudia.
It felt wrong anyway.
The silk was cool against her skin, not too tight, not too loose, just perfect. And for a moment, standing in front of the mirror, she could almost see her mother’s face instead of her own.
The resemblance was striking. Maybe that was why her father couldn’t help her nor let her go.
She sat on the floor, back against the glass, knees pulled up.
And she cried.
Not loud. Not for long. Just until the ache in her chest dulled enough for exhaustion to take her. The dress pooled around her like spilled wine.
The last thing she saw before drifting off was her own reflection. Sarai’s eyes staring back at her, accusing and tired.
How do you miss someone you can’t hug?
---
Meanwhile, back at Dale’s, the house was too quiet.
Vivian had come back early, bored and restless after a day of total Selfcare that hadn’t fixed anything.
She took a bath and went searching for Dale.
She found him in the study, going over work files with a frown carved into his face.
“You look stressed,” she said, leaning against the doorframe.
Her dress was high, her hair still damp from the shower, a deliberate choice.
Dale didn’t look up. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
She stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
“Selena’s back with her dad. And now you’re going to be old news.”
She teased.
Dale set the pen down. His jaw tightened. “Vivian.”
She moved closer, stopping right in front of his desk. Her perfume was heavy, floral, nothing like Selena’s.
“Let me help you forget about it. Forget about her.”
Her hand brushed his jaw, fingers light, testing.
Dale caught her wrist before she could go further. His voice was low, even, and final.
“No. I’m good.”
Vivian blinked. “What? It’s me Vivian.”
“I said no.” He stood, stepping back, putting the desk between them. “Not with you.”
Her face flushed, anger mixing with humiliation in an instant.
“Wait, you’re serious?”
“Yes.”
Vivian laughed, sharp and brittle, the sound out of place in the quiet room.
“You’re actually choosing her. After all we’ve been through?”
Dale didn’t answer. He just walked to the door and opened it, holding it wide.
“Get out, Vivian.”
She stared at him for a second longer, searching his face for a crack that wasn’t there. Then she tossed her hair over her shoulder and stormed out, the door slamming behind her hard enough to rattle the frame.
Dale exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for hours.
---
Morning arrived faster than usual, and Selena woke with a headache from all the crying the day before.
The closet was dark. Her phone glowed on the floor beside her, the screen lighting up the red silk.
One new message. From the unknown number.
“I saw you in my dress. It suits you. But it was never yours to keep.”
Selena sat up fast, heart pounding against her ribs.
Her hands trembled as she typed back, then deleted it. What was there to say? This definitely wasn’t her mom and if it was she would never say something this cruel.
Downstairs, the front door opened.
Footsteps. Too light to be Jacob’s. Too deliberate to be staff.
Claudia’s voice drifted up from outside the room, calm and amused, like she was calling to a child who’d stayed out too late.
“Selena? Are you still in there?”
Selena didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
She pulled the dress tighter around her, as if the fabric could shield her.
Footsteps moved through the room now, slow and measured, sounding like Claudia was pacing.
Claudia’s voice came again, closer this time.
“You know, Sarai hated being woken up when she slept in here. She said it felt like the dead were watching her.”
Selena’s breath hitched.
The doorknob rattled. Locked.
Claudia paused. Then she laughed, soft and low.
“Open the door, Selena. We need to talk.”
Selena didn’t move.
The laugh stopped.
“I know you sent me this message. Leave my mother’s name out of your f*****g mouth!” Selena declared.
Claudia’s voice dropped, no longer amused.
“Oh wow, you figured it out. Well done, my child.”
“I am not your child,” Selena snapped, but Claudia laughed.
“If you don’t open, I will.”
Silence.
Then, the sound of a key sliding into the lock.
- Writer
