EPISODE 7
ALTHEA
The kiss was light.
Casual.
Familiar.
But the effect it had on the room was anything but.
My stomach sank.
And then I saw her: Lucia.
She walked in like she owned every inch of the space, her dark waves cascading perfectly over her shoulders, her fitted black dress sculpting her curves in a way that made even the most attentive eyes linger.
Her lips curved into a faint, knowing smile, and I instantly knew: she had noticed me, noticed Elias, and she knew exactly the effect her presence would have.
Lucian’s low, shocked mutter broke the silence.
“Fuck.” Mira’s eyes narrowed, already predicting the chaos.
“Oh no.
She did not just—” “She did,” I whispered, gripping my wine glass tighter.
Lucia’s gaze locked on Elias immediately.
He froze, not the casual pause of recognition, but the sharp stop of a man who suddenly remembered everything he’d tried to bury.
She moved closer, brushing her hand lightly along his arm as she leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his cheek.
He didn’t pull back.
He couldn’t.
His control was perfect, but the tension that ran through him like a wire was impossible to hide.
Mrs. Laurent, standing tall in a shimmering navy gown, allowed a triumphant, subtle smile to spread across her face.
Approval.
Every flicker of movement was exactly what she wanted.
“You remember Lucia,” she said lightly, her voice carrying that cold, controlled edge.
“Do introduce yourself.”
Lucia turned toward me then, her eyes sharp and assessing.
“So, you must be Althea,” she said softly, the syllables careful, precise.
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Yes,” I replied evenly, though my chest tightened.
“Oh, from him?” she asked, tilting her head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
“No. From people who matter,” I said calmly, my tone deliberately neutral.
Her smile deepened, amused, almost predatory.
She leaned slightly back, crossing one leg over the other, the subtle sway drawing attention without effort.
She glanced at Elias, then at me, then back to him.
I realized she wasn’t just here to cause trouble—she was playing, observing, measuring reactions.
Every movement she made, every glance, was strategic.
Mira’s whisper cut through my awareness.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“She’s doing it on purpose,” I murmured.
“Yes, she is.”
Lucian leaned back, amusement and disbelief warring on his face.
“I don’t even know what I’m watching right now.”
Aria’s soft, commanding voice interjected before Lucian could say more.
“We’re here to celebrate, not perform for someone else.” She placed her hand lightly on mine, grounding me.
Elias didn’t respond.
He wasn’t looking at me, yet I could feel him, like a gravitational pull, heavy, controlled, electric.
His jaw flexed once, and his fingers drummed a quiet rhythm on the table—subtle, deliberate.
“And you are…?” she asked, her voice smooth, calm, precise.
“I’m a doctor,” I said evenly.
“Physiology.”
She arched an eyebrow, the faintest tilt of her head.
“A demanding profession. Leaves little room for personal distractions, I imagine.”
Mira muttered under her breath, “Here we go…”
“I make time for what matters,” I replied quietly.
Elias’ sharp, low, warning hiss interrupted me.
“Mom.”
Mrs. Laurent’s hand rested lightly on her glass, her gaze briefly on me before flicking to Elias.
“We’re just talking,” she said.
Elias’ father intervened, calm, smooth, his gaze briefly landing on me.
Recognition.
Approval.
A flash of warmth crossed his face before he returned his attention to the room.
“We’re celebrating tonight. Let’s keep that in mind.”
Aria seized the moment with authority.
“Before we get distracted again… there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask. Althea…” My chest tightened.
“…will you be my Maid of Honor?”
Time slowed.
Mira’s grip on my hand was fierce, Lucian’s grin was wide, and Ryan’s eyes sparkled with warmth.
I smiled, stepping forward, taking Aria’s hands.
“Of course,” I whispered.
She hugged me tightly.
“I couldn’t imagine anyone else.” “I’ve got you,” I said, and I meant it.
Returning to my seat, I caught Elias’ gaze again.
“Congratulations,” he murmured.
“You’ll be good at it.”
“Thank you,” I replied.
“You’ll be good at it.” He exhaled softly, the faintest laugh, tension just under the surface.
“That hasn’t changed.”
Ryan leaned forward, warm and teasing.
“Which means we’ll need both of you closely involved. Best man and Maid of Honor responsibilities are serious.”
Lucian groaned dramatically.
“I do not envy you.” Mira smirked, leaning into me.
“I do.”
Ryan’s gaze met Elias’.
“You’re the better man for it.” His words carried weight.
Elias’ shoulders tensed imperceptibly, jaw flexing.
The subtle strain made my chest tighten.
Lucia’s eyes, of course, didn’t leave me.
They shifted, calculating, observing every reaction.
“So… how long has it been?” she asked, voice casual but sharp.
I straightened, bracing.
“Long enough.”
“And yet… here you are,” she said lightly.
She leaned slightly forward, as if letting the words linger between us deliberately.
Mira whispered, annoyed.
“Oh no… this is going to be a mess.”
“Shh,” I whispered back.
Aria intervened again, firm but calm.
“Dessert, everyone. Let’s enjoy this evening.”
Waitstaff glided between us, glasses clinking, murmurs filling the room.
I could feel Elias’ gaze on me, quiet but constant.
Each glance held restraint and a quiet threat, and the unresolved tension between us vibrated in the air.
“Are you avoiding me?” he asked softly, low, only for me.
“I’m not,” I replied.
“This isn’t the time.”
“Then when?”
“Elias—”
“When, Thea?” The nickname slipped out before he could stop it.
My chest tightened, my fingers curling slightly around the napkin.
“Don’t,” I whispered.
“I didn’t mean—”
“You did.”
The weight between us was almost tangible.
“I need to talk to you,” he murmured.
I finally met his eyes.
For the first time all evening, they weren’t controlled.
They were raw, unsure, desperate.
“You don’t get to decide that,” I said.
“Not tonight.”
“Fine,” he muttered, tone restrained but edged with frustration.
“But we will talk.”
I didn’t respond.
I knew he was right.
And that was the problem.
Across the table, Lucia’s eyes lingered on us.
She leaned back, crossing her legs, her smile faint, confident, calculated.
She knew the effect she had, and she used it deliberately, a silent provocateur in the midst of celebration.
Her presence wasn’t just noticed—it shifted the entire room.
The energy in the room had changed.
Conversation carried a sharper edge, laughter sounded forced, and every glance, every movement between Elias and me was magnified.
I glanced at Aria.
Her green eyes were calm, commanding, reassuring.
“We’re here to celebrate,” she said, softly but firmly.
Even so, Elias didn’t relax.
Not fully.
Not when Lucia sat there, smiling faintly at him, watching our every reaction.
My chest tightened with anticipation, tension curling through me like smoke.
And then I noticed it—the way his jaw flexed, the subtle twitch of his fingers, the almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes.
He was aware of me, aware of Lucia, aware of the past pressing down on every second.
And I realized, with a sinking certainty, that whatever conversation awaited us later… it would change everything.
The past was not done.
And this time, it wouldn’t let go.