Chapter 5 No.5

The night of the engagement party was cold and clear. Stars glittered like chips of ice in the black sky.

Elizebeth stood in her room, looking at the dress laid out on her bed. It was a deep emerald green, Jaylah's signature color. A deliberate choice, marking Elizebeth as property of the new regime.

She put it on. The silk was cold against her skin.

Downstairs, the house was thrumming with music and conversation. A world away.

Floyd found her at the top of the stairs. He was in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, looking impossibly handsome. He held out his arm.

"They're about to announce it," he said. A command, not an invitation.

She placed her hand on his arm. His touch was firm, proprietary. For a moment, it was like all the other parties they had attended together. A phantom limb of a life already amputated.

They descended the grand staircase into a sea of faces. All of them smiling, their eyes filled with congratulations for the happy couple. For Floyd and Jaylah.

Elizebeth was just a prop. The tragic, yet graceful, former fiancée.

She saw Jaylah across the room, radiant in a white gown, surrounded by her friends. She raised her champagne glass in a silent, victorious toast to Elizebeth.

Elizebeth took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. She brought it to her lips, the bubbles fizzing against her tongue. This was her final act in this play. Her last scene. She would play her part to perfection.

Later, seeking a moment of quiet, she slipped out onto the terrace. The cool night air was a relief.

She leaned against the stone balustrade, looking out at the sprawling gardens.

She wasn't alone for long.

"Thinking of jumping?"

The voice was low, amused. She turned. A man she didn't recognize was standing in the shadows. He was tall, with dark hair and startlingly intelligent eyes.

She realized with a jolt that she'd seen him before, in her past life. Keenan Costa. A graduate student who had attended a few of Floyd's university fundraisers. He had tried to talk to her once, about art, but Floyd had steered her away, dismissing him.

"No," she said. "Just getting some air."

"Good," he said, stepping into the light. "It's a long way down." He smiled, a kind, easy smile that held no artifice. "I'm Keenan Costa. I think we've met before."

Before she could respond, she heard Floyd calling her name.

His voice was sharp, annoyed.

"Elizebeth! There you are. We're cutting the cake."

He came out onto the terrace, his eyes immediately landing on Keenan. A flicker of possessive anger crossed his face before being replaced by a mask of politeness. He didn't remember Keenan. He was just a stranger, talking to his... what was she, exactly?

Elizebeth overheard two women gossiping near the door.

"He's so good to her, isn't he? Still keeping her around after all this. He must feel so responsible."

"I heard he's setting her up with a trust fund. Making sure she's taken care of for life. After all, she has no one else."

Her future. Decided for her. A gilded cage, a lifelong pension for services rendered. That was his final judgment on her worth.

She turned to Floyd, her expression unreadable.

Just then, Jaylah joined them, slipping her arm through Floyd's. She leaned up and kissed his cheek, leaving a smear of red lipstick. "Darling, everyone's waiting."

She looked at Elizebeth, then at Keenan, her eyes narrowing.

Floyd pulled his arm away from Elizebeth and wrapped it firmly around Jaylah's waist. A public transfer of ownership. He leaned down and whispered something in Jaylah's ear, the same way he used to whisper to Elizebeth. The intimate gesture, once a comfort, now felt like a violation.

The sight of it, under the cold, indifferent stars, didn't hurt anymore.

It clarified.

A sudden gust of wind swept across the terrace, carrying the first drops of a cold rain.

Jaylah shivered dramatically. "Oh, it's raining! My hair!"

Floyd immediately started to guide her back inside. "Let's get you out of the cold." He glanced back at Elizebeth, an afterthought. "Elizebeth, come inside. You'll get sick."

It was the old command. The guardian, the protector.

She didn't move.

She tilted her face up to the sky, letting the cold rain fall on her skin. It felt real. It felt clean.

"No," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I'm fine right here."

She watched him hesitate, torn between the performance of concern for her and his duty to his new fiancée. Jaylah tugged his arm, and he let himself be led away.

Elizebeth stood alone in the rain, a small, solitary figure.

She was no longer his to protect. She was no longer his to command. The rain was washing away the last remnants of the girl who had lived in his shadow.

I don't need your shelter, she thought, a fierce, silent declaration. I can stand in my own storm.

The dependence was over. The love, the hope, the pain-it was all being washed clean. She was no longer the girl he was leaving behind. She was the woman who was walking away.