Chapter 9
After he walked out the door, she wasted no time in hiring a private investigator. Watching the swirling shadows of people pass beyond her window, she spoke with a voice so calm it could cut, “Keep tabs on
him.”
On the very first day, she received a report on Cassian’s activities. He had gone to her mother’s company, picked up Selene, and together they checked into a hotel. They didn’t return home until late into the night.
The updates that followed left little to the imagination–photos unmistakable in their intimacy. Holding them, she sat in silence, her gaze drifting to the stuffed animals scattered throughout the room. There was no hesitation as she gathered each one,
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carried them outside, and lit them aflame, her face illuminated by the orange glow of the fire.
By the next day, the betrayal deepened. She discovered her brother had known all along about the affair–about Cassian and Selene -yet had chosen to remain silent. Not only that, but he had even made a trip abroad to buy Selene a necklace.
She read the message, her expression unchanging as though it had been carved from stone. Rising quietly, she began the methodical task of packing. Every trace of herself was erased from her mother’s house. She even took down the family photo, cut herself out of it, and placed in her stead a picture of Selene.
By the third day, three large suitcases of her clothes were gone–sold, converted to
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cash–and her presence was vanishing, room by room. When Cassian and Callum finally walked through the front door, their footsteps faltered, their movements stiffening at the sight of the empty shelves and the remaining luggage.
Cassian’s right eyelid twitched, an involuntary tic betraying the tension that clawed at him. His gut churned with unease, a dreadful sense that control was slipping from his grasp.
He crossed the room towards Thalia in long, deliberate strides, his sharp gaze narrowing on her face. “Thalia, what’s going on?” he asked, his voice low and threaded with
tension.
Callum followed suit, scanning his
surroundings with a furrowed brow. His eyes landed on what remained of her wardrobe-
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the clothes, gifts he had given her. A flicker of surprise danced across his face. “Thalia,” he said, his voice heavy with curiosity, “care to explain all of this?”
Thalia could feel their stares pressing into her, prying, digging for answers as a knot tightened in her chest. But she kept her composure, her face betraying nothing as she lifted her chin. “We’re getting engaged soon,” she said lightly, her tone cool as distant clouds. “Thought I’d start getting everything in order.”
Relieved by what they assumed to be harmless pragmatism, both men eased. Callum stepped forward first, pulling something from his pocket–a carefully wrapped gift box. With a confident smile, he opened it, revealing a necklace that sparkled beneath the room’s light. “This is for you. I got it overseas.”
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Thalia’s eyes lingered on the necklace, cutting through the false sentiment with a quiet realization–it was the same one he’d given Selene. After a heartbeat of silence, she responded curtly, her voice detached. “Thank you.”
Callum’s smile faltered, his brows pulling together. He was used to a different Thalia, one who had once been delighted by even the simplest of his gifts, her radiant smile illuminating the room. When had that light dimmed? It struck him then–he couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen her smile.
In an attempt to lighten the mood, Cassian broke the silence, producing a sleek, red engagement dress and holding it out for her. “I figured you wouldn’t want to go out looking for one yourself, so I picked this up for you.” His tone carried a note of pride.
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Thalia’s attention lingered on the dress for a moment too long, her mind flashing to the one she’d seen in a photo–on Selene. The vibrant crimson, the dramatic cut–it was just like her to choose something so bold. Thalia had always leaned towards soft, muted colors, her tastes understated and refined.
She didn’t smile. She didn’t reach for the dress. A new edge sliced through her voice as she finally spoke. “I don’t care for colors this bright. But Selene would.”
Cassian’s confident expression faltered, his features stiffening as waves of discomfort rolled across his face. He cleared his throat. “Well,” he said awkwardly, forcing a grin just shy of convincing, “if you’d rather, we can go out together and find something you’d like.”
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Thalia’s lips curled into the faintest semblance of a smile–an imitation, unfeeling and hollow. “It’s fine,” she replied coolly. “I won’t need it anymore.”
Cassian’s jaw tightened, the words catching briefly in his throat before he pressed forward, “What do you mean you won’t need it-”
His sentence stopped short as both their phones buzzed in unison. Checking the alerts, Cassian and Callum exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them before they turned back to her. “We need to head out for work,” one of them said, already retreating towards the door.
Not long after they were gone, her phone buzzed with a fresh set of photos. This time, it was Cassian and Callum, smiling with
Selene.
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The house felt emptier than ever. It was Christmas Day, and her father had taken Rowena on a trip, leaving only quiet stillness behind. At her brother’s private villa, however, the night sky was painted with fireworks–a celebration captured perfectly in one photo, Callum’s hand lovingly tucking back a strand of Selene’s hair as they stood together, glowing in the light.
Thalia stood alone on her balcony, watching the distant fireworks explode in a vibrant symphony of color, and yet they felt impossibly far. They no longer loved her, she thought, the realization settling quietly in her chest. If they didn’t need her anymore, then she wouldn’t need them either.
On that fourth and final day, she donated the proceeds from her clothes to organizations supporting children in need–one small act
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of light amid the shadows consuming her. When she returned, the room was stripped bare, a husk of what it used to be. It was then Seraphim entered, halting mid–step as her eyes took in the emptiness. “Thalia,” she said, her voice sharp with concern, “what’s happened here?”
Without missing a beat, Thalia offered her usual composed reply, her tone light, almost dismissive. “We’re preparing for the engagement. Just tidying up in advance.”
It was ironic, really. The maid had managed to sense her departure before even her own family realized what was happening.
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