EPISODE 14
ALTHEA
The night should have felt lighter.
It didn’t.
The laughter, the music, the soft glow of the garden lights—it all continued as if nothing had shifted.
As if the tension threading through everything hadn’t tightened just a little more.
But I felt it.
Every second of it.
“You’re quiet,” Mira said, nudging my shoulder lightly as she studied my face.
“And don’t say you’re fine because you’re doing that thing.”
I blinked.
“What thing?”
“That thing where you pretend everything is under control,” she replied easily.
“It’s very convincing, by the way. If I didn’t know you.”
I let out a small breath, forcing a faint smile.
“I am fine.”
Mira didn’t look convinced.
Not even a little.
“Did something happen?” she asked, her voice lowering slightly.
“After you left?”
I hesitated.
Just for a second.
And that was all it took.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Something happened.”
“It’s nothing,” I said quickly.
“That’s not nothing,” she countered immediately.
“That’s definitely something.”
Aria glanced between us, concern flickering across her face.
“Thea?”
I shook my head gently, softening my tone.
“I promise, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
That part wasn’t a lie.
I could handle it.
I just didn’t want to.
Not tonight.
Not here.
“Mm,” Mira hummed, clearly unconvinced.
“If this is about a certain emotionally constipated billionaire—”
“Mira,” I cut in, trying not to laugh.
“What?” she shrugged.
“If the shoe fits.”
Aria stifled a smile, but her gaze stayed on me.
“Did you talk to him?”
That question landed heavier than it should have.
I reached for my glass, more for something to do than anything else.
“We… ran into each other.”
Mira’s brows shot up.
“Ran into each other where?”
“Inside.”
“And?” she pressed.
“And nothing,” I said, a little too quickly.
She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice.
“Thea.”
I exhaled slowly.
Because there was no point pretending with them.
“He asked about… before,” I admitted.
Aria’s expression softened instantly.
“Oh.”
Mira went quiet for once.
“He didn’t let it go,” I added, my voice quieter now.
“He wanted answers.”
“And you didn’t give him any,” Mira said, already knowing.
I shook my head.
“Not like that. Not there.”
Aria nodded gently.
“That makes sense.”
“Does it?” Mira muttered.
“Because from where I’m standing, this looks like unfinished business waiting to explode.”
She wasn’t wrong.
And that was the problem.
“I don’t want to do this again,” I said softly.
“Not like before.”
“Then don’t,” Mira said immediately.
I glanced at her.
“It’s not that simple,” I replied.
“It is,” she insisted.
“You either walk away or you don’t. But this middle ground? This ‘we’re pretending nothing is happening while everything is happening’? That’s where people get hurt.”
My chest tightened slightly.
Because I knew exactly what she meant.
“I’m not pretending,” I said.
“Then what are you doing?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know.
⸻
The music shifted into something softer, slower.
Couples began drifting toward the open space near the center, laughter blending into something more intimate.
I stepped back slightly, letting the moment pass around me.
Letting the air settle.
But they didn’t settle.
They kept circling back.
To him.
To the way he had looked at me.
To the way he had stepped closer.
To the way—
“Stop thinking about him.”
Mira’s voice cut through my thoughts again.
I huffed quietly.
“I wasn’t.”
“Liar,” she said without hesitation.
Aria smiled faintly.
“You don’t have to figure everything out tonight, Thea.”
“I know,” I said.
But it didn’t feel that simple.
Because something had shifted.
And I didn’t know how to ignore it anymore.
⸻
“I need a minute,” I said after a while.
Mira raised a brow.
“Outside minute or inside minute?”
I smiled slightly.
“Inside.”
“Progress,” she muttered.
“I’ll be back.”
Aria squeezed my hand gently.
“Take your time.”
⸻
The hallway was quiet again.
Cool.
Still.
A sharp contrast to the warmth of the garden.
I exhaled slowly as I stepped further in, the silence wrapping around me like a pause I didn’t know I needed.
For a moment, I just stood there.
Breathing.
Thinking.
Trying to steady something that refused to settle.
“You keep doing that.”
I froze.
My heart skipped—just for a second—before I turned.
Elias.
Leaning casually against the wall, like he had been there the entire time.
Watching.
Waiting.
“You’re starting to make it a habit,” he added.
I crossed my arms lightly.
“And you’re starting to follow me.”
A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
“I was here first.”
“Convenient.”
“For me? Always.”
I tried not to react to that.
Failed.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said after a moment, his tone shifting slightly.
“You said that already.”
“And you didn’t listen.”
“I don’t usually take orders.”
“Not even from me?”
“Especially not from you.”
That earned a quiet breath of amusement from him.
But it didn’t last.
The air shifted again.
Subtle.
But real.
“This isn’t going away,” he said.
“I know.”
“Then why are you acting like it will?”
“I’m not.”
His gaze sharpened slightly.
“It feels like you are.”
I held his gaze.
“Maybe I just don’t want to rush into something that already ended once.”
That hit.
I saw it.
Felt it.
But he didn’t step back.
“If it ended,” he said quietly, “why does it still feel like this?”
My breath caught.
Because I didn’t have an answer.
Not one I was ready to say out loud.
“Elias—”
“Don’t,” he murmured.
“Don’t pretend you don’t feel it.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Silence stretched between us again.
Heavy.
Unsteady.
Too familiar.
And then—
Footsteps.
Not mine.
Another presence.
I turned instinctively.
And that’s when I heard it.
Clear.
Familiar.
Unexpected.
“Althea.”
I stilled.
Because I knew that voice.
And it definitely didn’t belong to Elias.
⸻
ELIAS
I didn’t follow her.
I could have.
I almost did.
But something held me back.
Maybe pride.
Maybe frustration.
Maybe the fact that every time I got close to her, everything I thought I had under control slipped just a little more.
I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through my hair as I stepped back into the garden.
The music had softened, couples moving closer together, laughter quieter now, more intimate.
None of it mattered.
Not when my mind was still in that hallway.
Not when she was still—
“Elias.”
I turned.
Aria.
Her expression wasn’t warm.
Wasn’t welcoming.
If anything— she looked annoyed.
No. Not annoyed.
Disappointed.
“You just stood there,” she said without preamble.
My brows drew together slightly.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” she replied, stepping closer.
“You stood there and did nothing.”
I let out a quiet breath, already feeling the tension rise again.
“I’m not sure what you expect me to do, Aria.”
“Something,” she snapped.
“Anything. Instead of letting your mother talk to her like that.”
My jaw tightened.
“That’s not—”
“It is,” she cut in.
“You saw it. Everyone saw it. And you just… stood there.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” she let out a sharp laugh.
“You think this is about fair?”
I took a step closer, my voice lowering.
“You don’t understand how this works.”
“No,” she shot back.
“I understand exactly how this works. You just don’t like it.”
My hands curled slightly at my sides.
“It’s not my fault things are like this.”
The moment the words left my mouth—
I knew they were wrong.
Aria’s eyes flashed.
“It’s not your fault?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly.
“Are you serious right now?”
“She left, Aria,” I said, frustration slipping through.
“She walked away. What exactly do you expect me to do with that?”
Aria stared at me.
For a second— just a second— she looked like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
Then—
“That’s what you think?” she said, her voice sharp, almost incredulous.
I didn’t answer.
Didn’t need to.
Because that had always been the truth.
Hadn’t it?
Her expression hardened.
“No,” she said firmly.
“You don’t get to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Rewrite what happened to make yourself feel better.”
My jaw clenched.
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“It is,” she insisted.
“Because if you actually paid attention—if you actually cared enough to see past your own ego—you would know the truth.”
Something in my chest tightened.
“What truth?”
Aria didn’t hesitate.
“She’s the reason Althea left.”
I stilled.
Everything in me— stilled.