Page 15 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
She'd been to the Lackenbys earlier that week for their regular clean. The house smelled faintly of pot-pourri and lemon oil, and the curtains were pulled open to let the spring light spill across the parquet floors.
Ophelia was quiet nowadays, waiting with her usual cup of chamomile and her book on the armrest. But something in her had changed. She was quieter, more thoughtful.
She still made Aria read aloud, made the odd comment while Aria cooked. There was roast chicken soup, with rosemary and butter that perfumed the kitchen like a Sunday lunch. But her voice occasionally drifted off mid-sentence, and her spoon would stir the soup a little too long.
Her eyes, when they met Aria's, had taken on a certain sadness. Not grief exactly, but a shadow of something unspoken.
Aria noticed, but she didn't press. She'd learned that Ophelia gave what she could, whenever she could, and asking sometimes made her retreat.
Still, the silence lingered like a page waiting to be turned.
Lule stayed an extra day.
"I'm working from home," she said casually, one leg folded under her as she furiously typed on her laptop at Aria's tiny dining table. "They can cope."
She worked part-time while completing her masters.
She knew about the event on Sunday-Aria had told her in a careful, uncertain tone, half-waiting anxiously for her opinion.
Instead, Lule narrowed her eyes, set her laptop aside, and rifled through Aria's wardrobe without a word.
It didn't take long. Aria's closet was filled with worn jeans, a rotating cast of cotton T-shirts, and a few work slacks that had seen better days. Lule raised one eyebrow at a folded stack of fleece hoodies and gave her sister a flat stare.
"You're going to wear one of these?" she asked, holding up a faded green sweatshirt while threading her finger through a hole in the cuff.
Aria shrugged, half-defensive. "They're clean."
"Oh, my God. Aria."
They were built differently. Lule was sleek and model-tall, with her long limbs and sharp collarbones. Aria was shorter, soft in the hips and chest, her skin golden now from weeks walking to and from the tube in the sun. She looked like she'd been brushed with honey and her eyes shone like golden ingots.
"You're not hiding behind these anymore," Lule declared with a militant air. "Come on."
She dragged her to a vintage shop two blocks away, ignoring Aria's protests and tired feet. The place smelled like patchouli and fabric softener, and Lule scanned the racks like she was on a mission.
When they found a black, floral V-neck dress with a fitted waist and a skirt that swayed just right, Aria hesitated.
"It's lovely," she admitted. "But I can't afford-"
"I'm buying it," Lule said, waving for the attendant. "You've got a godson to land."
She picked out a pair of pointed-toe flats-black with elegant straps that hugged the ankle. "No heels," she said, "because you'll be standing. And Rahul always says women suffer too much for fashion. Also, these are cute."
Aria tried to protest again, but again, Lule cut her off.
"You deserve the best things," she said firmly, holding the dress up against Aria's frame. "Just you wait. I'm starting my job in May, remember?"
Aria nodded. She'd seen the offer letter. The number of zeroes had made her drop her tea mug.
"I'm going to make so much money you'll forget what bills look like," Lule continued, her eyes gleaming. "You're going to be a kept woman, sis."
Aria rolled her eyes. "Very Victorian of you, Lule."
Back home with their packages, Lule handed her a small leather clutch with gold accents. "Rahul gave it to me. He won't mind. He has two siblings, and they share everything."
She paused, then wrinkled her nose. "Even underwear sometimes. Gross, I know."
Aria laughed, finally giving in.
