The truck was unloaded quickly, but when Seraphine returned downstairs, Luther still hadn’t reappeared. Out of courtesy—or perhaps lingering habit—she sent him a brief message asking if he’d be back soon. The reply came moments later, not from Luther, but from Cornelia.
“Hi, Seraphine!” The voice message carried Cornelia’s saccharine tone. “Luther is helping me fix some issues here. The wiring’s ancient, and it’s a mess. You should head home—we’ll be a while. Don’t wait up!”
Seraphine’s grip tightened on her phone. Before she could close the app, another message came through.
“Oh, and please don’t misunderstand,” Cornelia added, her tone dripping with false innocence. “Luther’s just being thoughtful. He’s such a kind person, isn’t he?”
The audacity was almost laughable. Almost. Instead of replying, Seraphine silenced her phone and hailed a cab.
As the city lights streaked by in the window, her phone buzzed again. This time, it was Luther.
“Seraphine,” he began, his voice laced with accusation, “why were you so cold to Cornelia earlier? She’s my subordinate, and I was just helping her. That’s normal, isn’t it?”
Her tone remained steady, though her patience frayed. “Normal? Like how you sulked through her birthday party, claiming you didn’t feel well, and now you’re practically her personal handyman?”
Through the speaker, she could hear faint sobbing—Cornelia’s, no doubt perfectly timed.
“See? Now you’ve upset her,” Luther snapped, frustration bleeding into his words. “You’re overreacting again.”
A sharp, humorless laugh escaped Seraphine. “You’re right. I overreacted. Don’t worry—I’m already on my way home. You won’t have to deal with me anymore.”
For a moment, the line went quiet, then Luther’s voice softened. “Seraphine, don’t—”
But she ended the call before he could finish.
When the cab pulled up to her destination, Seraphine stepped out and exhaled, her breath misting in the cool evening air. The weight of her choices settled heavily on her, but it wasn’t crushing. It was liberating.
For too long, she had been Luther’s shadow—waiting, hoping, sacrificing. But no longer.
She straightened her shoulders and walked inside, her heart steeled against the pain. Soon, the world would know her not as the woman left behind, but as the one who seized control of her destiny.