Chapter Six: Words Meant to Wound
539 Words
The ballroom was emptying, laughter and music trailing away into the night like ghosts.
Tasia stood by the grand window, watching the last carriages roll into the darkness. Her reflection in the glass was pale, eyes ringed in fatigue.
Behind her, the door clicked shut.
She didn’t turn.
“I wondered if you’d come say goodnight,” she said quietly.
Chase’s voice was hoarse. “I had to.”
She let out a brittle laugh. “Ah. Duty calls.”
He flinched at the venom in her tone.
“Tasia—”
She turned to face him fully, chin high. “Who is she?”
He blinked. “What?”
“Don’t lie to me. I saw you. The woman in the red gown.”
Silence fell between them like a dropped blade.
Finally, he said, too quickly, “She’s no one.”
Tasia felt heat flood her cheeks, shame and rage warring in her chest.
“Don’t insult me.”
He swallowed. “This is complicated.”
“Is it?” she demanded. “Because from where I stood, it looked simple. You looked at her like you wanted to run away. Like you’d already chosen.”
His mouth opened, but no words came.
“Say it,” she hissed.
He pressed his eyes shut. “She’s...someone I cared about. Before all this.”
“Cared?”
He didn’t answer.
Tasia’s hands trembled at her sides. “You’re going to marry me and still lie to my face. You’re going to pretend that I’m enough for you.”
His voice broke. “I’m trying, Tasia.”
She laughed bitterly. “No. You’re trying to make it easier for yourself. You think if you play the dutiful son and the dutiful fiancé, no one gets hurt.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Too late,” she whispered.
They stood there breathing hard, their reflections in the window twisted and monstrous.
He reached out, hesitating.
She stepped back.
“Tasia—”
“Go,” she said. Her voice shook, but she forced the words out. “Please. Just go.”
He let his hand fall.
For a second, his eyes were desperate. Begging.
Then he turned and walked out, closing the door behind him with agonizing slowness.
She pressed a hand to her mouth to hold back a sob.
Her mother’s voice floated back from the hallway, laughing with guests.
Smile, Tasia. Always smile.
She staggered to the window and flung it open. Cold air slapped her face.
Below, the carriage wheels crunched over gravel. She saw him climbing in. She saw the shape beside him, a woman leaning close, whispering.
Tasia’s vision blurred.
She choked on a sob.
Her hand fell to her belly instinctively, protectively.
This is my life now.
A bargain. A performance.
And she was already breaking under its weight.
She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, smearing makeup across her cheek.
Somewhere outside, thunder rumbled.
She closed the window.
And in the silence of the room, she whispered the only truth left to her.
“I hate you, Chase Campbell.”
She turned from the window and let the darkness swallow her whole.
- Writer
