Just a few more days.
During a break, I wandered into the hall and caught Denver and Patricia whispering near the piano. His fingers brushed her cheek. She giggled. They leaned in too close.
When I passed, he pulled away and gave me that same old line.
“She’s just my friend. You know that, right? So don’t look at us like you’re jealous. We’ve always been close. Even before you came into the picture—it was supposed to be us.”
He said it like I was the mistake. The intruder.
I didn’t reply.
That night, as I finally lay down in the guest room—barely able to keep my eyes open—I heard it.
Soft moans. Muffled gasps. Patricia’s room was down the hall, but the sounds carried. The headboard creaked. A sharp intake of breath. Then Denver’s voice—low, familiar.
I walked out into the hallway and stood frozen outside the cracked door.
There, through the sliver, I saw them. Tangled. Sweaty. Sheets wrapped around their bodies like silk secrets. Her laugh. His groan.
I just turned around and walked back to my room.
Today was the final stretch before the gala. One more day of pretending. One more day of smiling through a hollow.
I wrapped a scarf around my hair, pulled on my coat, and headed toward the main hall to double-check the placement cards. That was when the door creaked open behind me.
Patricia. Her smile was different now—sharp around the edges, too polished to be sincere. There was no audience this time. No parents. No Denver. Just us. And when it was just us, Patricia was never sweet.
She stepped into the room like she owned it. “You’re up early,” she said with mock cheer. “Still playing the diligent servant? That’s so admirable.”
I said nothing. I didn’t need to. I knew exactly who she was when no one was looking.
This wasn’t new. I still remembered the time she’d shattered my favorite porcelain doll when—then screamed that I pushed her into the cabinet. I got grounded. She got a new dress.
Another time, she convinced me to sneak cookies from the kitchen and then cried to our mother when we were caught. I took the blame. She got praised for being honest.
Even when we were older, she’d whisper cruel things in passing:
"Denver only married you because of the merger."
"You’ll always be second-best, Alicia. Doesn’t matter whose blood runs in your veins."