Chapter Eight:The Morning After
374 Words
Tasia woke in gray light.
She had not meant to sleep.
Her gown was wrinkled from where she’d collapsed on the chaise, her hair half-fallen from its pins.
She blinked at the ceiling.
Empty.
For a moment, she pretended she didn’t remember.
The ball.
The way he’d looked at her.
The balcony.
The lie in his mouth.
Her stomach twisted.
She sat up slowly, fighting a wave of nausea.
The door creaked open.
Her mother’s voice sliced through the hush.
“Tasia.”
She didn’t answer.
“Tasia, look at you.”
She did.
Lady Logan clicked her tongue in disgust. “You’re a mess. Is this how you want him to see you?”
Tasia’s voice was barely there. “He’s not here.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not the point. You must be perfect. Always.”
Tasia swallowed. “He doesn’t want me.”
Lady Logan’s mouth tightened. “He will. He has to. Our family’s future depends on this match.”
Tasia flinched.
“You will apologize for last night,” her mother continued briskly. “You will write him a letter. You will invite him for tea. You will smile. You will win.”
Tasia shook her head, tears blurring her vision.
Her mother’s voice turned cold.
“Stop crying.”
Tasia forced herself to obey.
Stop crying. Stop wanting.
When her mother left, slamming the door behind her, Tasia buried her face in her hands.
She stayed that way for a long time.
Finally she rose unsteadily and went to her writing desk.
She picked up the pen.
Her hand trembled.
Chase, she wrote.
The ink pooled and ran.
She set the pen down.
I don’t know what to say.
Her vision went black at the edges for a moment.
She clutched at the desk, breathing hard.
Steady. Don’t faint.
When the dizziness passed, she pressed her palm to her belly.
It felt hollow. Cold.
She closed her eyes and let the tears fall at last.
She never finished the letter.
Outside, carriages rattled in the street.
Life went on.
Inside, Tasia Logan sat in her cold room, staring at the blank paper.
The morning sun did not warm her.
She wondered if it ever would again.
- Writer
