★Cassandra★
Rosehaven Hall had not changed. The same polished marble floors, the same ornate chandeliers that glittered above the long dining room table. It was a house built for impressions, not comfort, but it still held the smell of my childhood with fresh roses that had been cut from the gardens. And there was even a faint trace of my mother’s perfume that lingered in the hallways. I had arrived early, as Mother demanded, though I knew the real reason she wanted me here first. She wanted an opportunity to corner me about moving back home. But I wasn’t going to budge. I loved my condo and my privacy. However, Nathan and his parents were already there when I arrived. He was already here when I entered the drawing room. He rose from his chair as though on instinct, as though my presence tugged at him before I even spoke. His parents sat nearby, Charles in his pressed linen suit, Elaine with her graceful posture and welcoming smile. I greeted them both warmly, because I genuinely liked them. But Nathan? I did not give him so much as a glance. Instead, I sank into the seat beside my mother, who immediately began fussing with the fall of my hair over my shoulder. Elaine leaned in too, her hand gentle against mine.
“Cassandra, it is so lovely to have you back,” Elaine said with that soft warmth I had always admired. “Your mother has told us all about Coral Residences. You must enjoy the view,”
“It is peaceful,” I replied, as I smiled. “And independent. That matters to me,” Nathan’s presence loomed just a step behind, silent, and watchful. I ignored him, as I kept my eyes on Elaine and my mother.
“Tell us about St. Albans Conservatory,” my mother said, her voice filled with pride. “You have never really shared all the details, especially with Elaine,” that was her way of pushing me to perform, to remind everyone that her daughter had not simply disappeared, but had been polished and perfected behind ivy-covered walls.
“St. Albans was…demanding,” I said carefully. “The mornings were dedicated to the traditional academics…literature, history, mathematics, and the sciences. Afternoons were more refined. Fashion and design ateliers, etiquette classes, music, and public speaking. They wanted us as cultured as we were educated,” Elaine’s eyes lit with interest.
“Did you enjoy it?” she asked, and for a moment I hesitated.
“Some of it. I loved the ateliers. The music halls. The riding fields, especially,” my lips curved slightly at the memory of the stables, the sharp scent of hay, the rhythm of galloping across open grounds. “But the rest…it was strict. The schedule was relentless. We rose with the sun, and we went to bed after study hall and curfews. Evenings were for cultural events, for polished gatherings where we practiced what we learned. Seasonal galas, endless conversations with people who judged you on the cut of your dress or the sharpness of your wit,”
“Sounds like preparation for Seabrook Bay,” Elaine teased gently. I laughed softly, though my eyes flickered toward the window, away from Nathan’s silent figure.
“Perhaps. But even then, I managed to escape into the kitchens sometimes. I learned to bake bread and cook quite a few different meals. They encouraged us to learn practical skills, though I suspect half of us made more of a mess than anything edible,” my mother smiled at me, clearly pleased by my composure.
“She returned polished,” she told Elaine, as though I were not sitting right there. “Sophisticated. A woman ready to take her place,” I looked down at my hands and sighed softly.
“Ten years away leaves you with little choice but to adapt,” I said. Elaine reached out and squeezed my hand.
“Still, you came home. That matters,” she said. I nodded, though my mind tightened at the truth of it. My homecoming had been two weeks in the making, two weeks of watching the city as though it might welcome me with open arms. Yet the city was not the problem. It was him. Nathan shifted slightly, and though I did not look at him, I felt the weight of his gaze. I had been determined to treat him as though he did not exist, and yet every nerve in me was aware of him. The way he breathed, the way his chair scraped faintly as he moved. He had not spoken since I entered, and that silence pressed heavier than words might have. The room filled with light chatter as my mother told Elaine about LuxeLine’s latest issue. Charles interjected with an old story about my father’s early investment advice. I joined when prompted, but most of my words were automatic, and rehearsed. My focus stayed trained on ignoring the man who had once been the center of my world. The sound of the front door carried through the hall. Finally, Timothy’s voice rang out, cheerful and late.
“Sorry, sorry!” he entered with his usual flair, tie crooked, hair slightly windblown. “Traffic. Or maybe Sienna. Or both,” he kissed my mother’s cheek, clapped Charles on the shoulder, and leaned down to hug me tightly. “Cass. You look perfect, as always,”
“Late, as always,” I returned with a smirk. He laughed as he took his seat, immediately stealing the attention of the table. It gave me room to breathe, to hold steady while Nathan remained just beyond my reach. Lunch was served, salmon with lemon glaze, roasted vegetables, and delicate pastries for dessert. The conversation spun around business, small updates, and memories. Timothy entertained everyone with stories, deliberately pulling focus. I was grateful. It kept Nathan silent. And yet I still felt him. Watching. Measuring. Waiting. When I finally glanced up, unable to help myself, our eyes met across the table. My stomach tightened. His gaze was sharp, unwavering, filled with something I refused to name. I looked away first, as I pretended to adjust the napkin on my lap, and as I tried to ignore the heat that crept into my chest. I could not let him see it. Not now. Not when I had worked so hard to build walls taller than Rosehaven Hall itself.
“Tell us about your holidays at St. Albans,” Elaine suggested as the conversation was once again steered my way. I force a smile.
“Short breaks. A week here or there. I spent some time in Fayville with classmates, and a few other places when I was invited. I came home and saw my parents and Timothy when I could, though the school rarely allowed extended stays. I suppose the intention was to keep us focused. To remind us that our world was there, within the gates,”
“And did you feel trapped?” Charles asked, as his eyes narrowed slightly. I shrugged.
“Sometimes. But it shaped me. After ten years, I learned discipline. Confidence. Balance. I learned how to be someone no one could ignore,” I stated, and it was a pointed statement, and I knew Nathan had heard it. His expression shifted ever so slightly, as though the words struck deeper than I intended. When dessert arrived, the conversation lightened, laughter spilled between my mother and Elaine as Timothy carried on about Sienna’s latest dramatic exit. I let myself laugh too, but I felt the heat of that gaze still locked on me. I had ignored him all afternoon. I had spoken about my life as though he were not sitting three chairs away. But it was impossible to deny the truth that pressed at me. Nathan Grant was not going to stay silent forever. And deep down, I already knew he was waiting for his chance.
★★★