Page 71 of Her Holiday Arrangement
That was all. Just her name. Not a rebuke. Not a defense. Just a warning wrapped so thinly that no one else would even hear it.
Sophia only smiled wider, sipping her champagne like she’d won something.
Another ripple of amusement from the crowd. Riley’s throat closed. She wanted to disappear into the floorboards, but her feet wouldn’t move.
Elizabeth’s hand twitched at her side. But she said nothing. Nothing at all.
The night blurred into a slow torture.
Sophia never raised her voice, never did anything anyone could call cruel. Instead, she needled Riley in ways only she and Elizabeth could understand.
At the champagne toast, Sophia leaned close, voice just loud enough for Riley to catch. “Do be careful with those glasses, dear. Crystal shatters in untrained hands.”
While complimenting Elizabeth’s father on the decorations, she tossed Riley a smile. “You must find all this terribly overwhelming, don’t you? Such a step up.”
And later, during a story about some holiday trip she and Elizabeth had once taken, she added, “Oh, but I’m sure Riley’s never been abroad. It must be fascinating hearing of other people’s adventures.”
Each jab landed soft to the room, disguised as humor, but sharp enough that Riley felt herself bleeding out by inches. She kept her smile pasted on, nodding when expected, but inside her chest something cracked and cracked again.
Elizabeth stayed composed, distant. Her mask never slipped. Sometimes her jaw tightened, sometimes her gaze flicked briefly toward Riley in warning, as if to sayendure it. But she never stepped in. Never defended.
Later, near the tree, Riley drifted close enough to overhear. She hadn’t meant to, she’d only been reaching for another glass of wine, desperate for something to hold. But their voices carried.
Sophia, low and certain: “This isn’t real, and you know it.”
Elizabeth, quieter, brittle: “It doesn’t have to be more than what it is.”
Riley froze, the glass trembling in her hand. She wished she hadn’t heard. God, she wished she could shove the words back into the air, pretend they hadn’t landed.
But they had. And they shattered her.
Riley hovered near the edge of the crowd, clutching her glass a little too tightly, feeling like a spectator in someone else’s world. She caught Elizabeth trapped in conversation with her parents and froze.
“She’s lovely,” Mrs. Hale said, voice smooth and cutting, “but you’ve always liked strays. Strays can be charming for a season, but they don’t last.” Riley stiffened at the words. “It’s not about love, Elizabeth. It’s about legacy. You have responsibilities beyond your whims.”
Elizabeth’s hand gripped her glass, knuckles white. She said nothing. Riley felt a pang, anger, fear, frustration, at the way her girlfriend just absorbed the criticism, silent and controlled.
Her father stepped closer, voice calm but final. “This kind of woman will ruin your name. Your career. Your image. Do you understand?”
Riley’s chest tightened. She wanted to step forward, to protest, to tell them they were wrong, that Elizabeth wasn’t defined by anyone’s idea of perfection, but she didn’t. She stayed at the edge of the room, glass trembling slightly in her hand, watching Elizabeth’s jaw tighten. Silence stretched between Elizabeth and her parents, and Riley realized how completely alone Elizabeth was in that moment, even as the rest of the room laughed and shimmered around them.
She saw Elizabeth standing there, elegant and poised, saying nothing while her parents dismantled her with the same cutting efficiency Sophia had wielded hours before. Except this time, the knife twisted deeper because Elizabeth let it happen.
From Riley’s vantage, it looked like agreement. Like collusion. Like proof.
Sophia caught Riley’s eye across the room, her smile curling knowingly, cruel and satisfied.
Riley’s breath hitched. The ache in her chest sharpened until it felt like it might split her in half.
Elizabeth’s silence wasn’t neutrality. It was abandonment.
And Riley, foolish, hopeful, already half in love, was left standing alone, watching the last fragile illusion shatter into pieces.
The music swelled. Laughter sparkled. Champagne flutes clinked. And somewhere in the Hale estate, amid all the glitter and legacy and pressure, two women who could have had everything stood on opposite sides of the room, breaking apart.
It wasn’t just Sophia’s cruelty anymore. It was Elizabeth’s voice, calm, final, like Riley really was just part of the performance. Like the stolen moments, the heat, the passion meant nothing outside this charade.
The warmth Riley had been clinging to all week crumbled into ash.
