The invitation came in the afternoon.
Aria had just gotten back from school and was still in her outside clothe, sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her when one of the maids walked in and handed her the envelope.
“It was delivered a few minutes ago,” the maid said before leaving.
Aria frowned slightly, turning the envelope over in her hand. She didn’t need to guess who it was from. Something about it already made her uneasy.
She opened it slowly.
Inside was a neatly written card.
Dinner tonight. You and your husband should come. We need to talk.
No names. No greetings. Nothing soft about it.
She didn’t move for a while after reading it.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the card.
She already knew who it was.
Her parents.
Her stomach turned a little.
A part of
