EPISODE 12
ALTHEA
The laughter in the garden had returned, softer now, like the tension from earlier had been folded neatly into polite silence.
Conversations resumed, glasses clinked, and the staff moved gracefully between tables—but something had shifted.
I felt it.
Not around me.
Not even in the air.
But somewhere deeper.
Like a thread had been pulled too tight… and was close to snapping.
“Okay,” Mira muttered beside me, nudging my arm lightly.
“That was iconic. I need you to teach me how to insult someone without actually insulting them.”
I huffed a quiet laugh, shaking my head.
“I wasn’t trying to insult her.”
“Exactly,” she grinned.
“That’s what makes it worse.”
Aria squeezed my hand gently, her smile warm but her eyes searching.
“You handled that really well, Thea. I mean it.”
“I just said what I felt,” I replied softly.
But even as I said it, my thoughts weren’t fully here.
They hadn’t been… for a while.
Not since—
I exhaled slowly, reaching for a glass of water from the table.
The coolness grounded me, but not enough to quiet the awareness lingering at the back of my mind.
Elias.
I hadn’t seen him since the confrontation.
Not in the crowd.
Not near the tables.
Not anywhere.
And that, more than anything, unsettled me.
Because Elias didn’t disappear.
He withdrew.
And there was a difference.
“Hey,” Mira’s voice broke through my thoughts, softer now.
“You okay?”
I nodded quickly.
“Yeah. Just… tired.”
She didn’t look convinced.
Neither did Aria.
But thankfully, neither of them pushed.
For a moment, we stood there in comfortable silence, the warm glow of the evening wrapping around us.
I tried to let myself relax, to sink back into the moment, to focus on the celebration instead of the storm quietly brewing beneath it.
But it didn’t last.
Because then I felt it.
That pull.
Subtle.
Familiar.
Like being watched.
My fingers tightened slightly around the glass as I turned.
And there he was.
Not across the garden this time.
Closer.
Much closer.
Standing just beyond the archway that led back into the main building.
Elias.
His posture was rigid, his expression unreadable—but his eyes…
They were locked on me.
And they weren’t calm.
Something flickered in them.
Something darker.
Something… unsettled.
My breath caught before I could stop it.
For a second—just a second—the noise around me faded again.
It was just him.
Just us.
Just that invisible thread pulling tight between us.
And then— he looked away.
Just like that.
Like he hadn’t been staring.
Like I hadn’t felt it.
My chest tightened.
Because that— that was new.
Elias didn’t look away first.
Not before.
Not back then.
“Okay,” Mira said slowly, following my gaze.
“Something is definitely wrong.”
I didn’t respond.
Because she was right.
Something was wrong.
And I had a feeling I was about to find out exactly what.
⸻
The night stretched on longer than I expected.
At some point, the cake tasting turned into drinks, and the drinks turned into smaller conversations scattered across the garden.
Music drifted softly through hidden speakers, blending with the ocean breeze.
I tried to stay present.
Tried to laugh when Mira said something ridiculous.
Tried to focus on Aria as she excitedly debated cake flavors with Ryan.
But it was harder now.
Because I could feel him.
Not close enough to touch.
But close enough to matter.
Every time I shifted, every time I looked up, there was this awareness—like he was somewhere just out of reach, watching, thinking, holding something back.
And it was starting to get to me.
I set my glass down, exhaling softly.
“I’m going to get some air.”
Mira immediately raised a brow.
“More air? Babe, we’re literally outside.”
I smiled faintly.
“Different air.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, but didn’t argue.
“Don’t disappear.”
“I won’t.”
At least… I didn’t think I would.
⸻
The hallway inside was quieter.
Cooler.
The shift from the warm garden to the polished stillness of the interior felt almost jarring.
For a moment, I just stood there, letting the silence settle around me.
Letting my thoughts catch up.
Letting my chest finally loosen—
“You always run when things get complicated.”
My breath stilled.
That voice.
Low.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
I turned slowly.
Elias stood a few steps behind me.
Closer than before.
Closer than he had been all night.
And this time— he wasn’t looking away.
“Funny,” I said softly, forcing calm into my voice.
“I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
But he didn’t deny it.
Of course he didn’t.
Silence stretched between us.
Heavy.
Loaded.
Too full for something that should have been simple.
“You left,” he said finally.
I blinked.
“I stepped inside.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Of course it wasn’t.
I exhaled slowly, folding my arms lightly.
“Then say what you mean.”
His gaze sharpened.
For a second, I thought he wouldn’t.
That he’d retreat again.
That he’d pull back into that control he wore so well.
But then—
“You left,” he repeated, quieter now.
“Back then.”
My chest tightened.
There it was.
Not subtle.
Not hidden.
Not safe.
I swallowed.
“Elias—”
“No,” he cut in, stepping closer.
“You don’t get to brush past it like it didn’t happen.”
“I’m not brushing past anything,” I said, my voice steady despite the tension building inside me.
“Really?” His eyes searched mine.
“Because it feels like you are.”
I shook my head slightly.
“You don’t know what it felt like.”
“Then tell me.”
The words hit harder than they should have.
Because I couldn’t.
Not like this.
Not here.
Not when everything was already so fragile.
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” I said quietly.
Something shifted in his expression.
Not anger.
Something deeper.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said.
My breath caught.
Because the way he said it— it wasn’t demanding.
It was… hurt.
Unfiltered.
And that made it worse.
“You disappeared,” he continued, his voice lower now.
“No warning. No explanation. Just… gone.”
I looked away briefly, my fingers curling slightly at my sides.
“It wasn’t that simple.”
“It felt simple,” he said.
Silence.
Thick.
Uncomfortable.
I forced myself to meet his gaze again.
“And you think this is?” I gestured lightly between us.
“You think any of this is simple?”
“No,” he said immediately.
“I think it’s complicated.
I think it’s messy.
And I think—” he paused, his jaw tightening slightly, “—you still feel it.”
The words landed between us.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
I didn’t answer.
Didn’t trust myself to.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
And that was the problem.
He stepped closer.
Too close.
The space between us shrank until it felt almost nonexistent.
“You do,” he said softly.
My breath hitched.
“Elias—”
“Don’t,” he murmured.
“Don’t pretend you don’t.”
“I’m not pretending,” I said, but my voice lacked the strength I wanted it to have.
His gaze dropped briefly—just for a second—to my lips.
Then back up.
And that was it.
That was all it took.
The tension snapped tighter.
Dangerously close to breaking.
And then—
“Elias?”
Lucia.
We both stepped back instantly.
Too fast.
Too obvious.
She stood at the end of the hallway, her gaze sharp, assessing, taking in the distance between us… the tension we hadn’t quite managed to hide.
“Well,” she said lightly, though her eyes said otherwise.
“This is interesting.”
I didn’t speak.
Neither did Elias.
Because there was nothing to say that wouldn’t make it worse.
Lucia stepped closer, her heels echoing softly.
“Am I interrupting?”
“Yes,” I said calmly.
At the same time, Elias said, “No.”
Her lips curved.
Slow.
Satisfied.
“I thought so,” she murmured, sliding her arm through his.
Possessive.
Intentional.
My chest tightened.
But I didn’t react.
Not outwardly.
Not anymore.
“Enjoy your night, Althea,” she added sweetly.
I met her gaze steadily.
“I always do.”
Her smile didn’t falter.
But something in her eyes sharpened.
Good.
Let it.
Because I was done pretending not to see it.
Done pretending not to feel it.
I turned, walking past them without another word.
But I felt it.
His gaze.
Still on me.
Still pulling.
Still unresolved.
And as I stepped back into the warm glow of the garden, one thing settled quietly in my chest.
This wasn’t over.
Not even close.