The car ride home was silent. It wasn't as suffocating as the one to the hospital, and for that, Lilia was at least grateful. She could breathe, even if the air felt thinner with every passing second. The weight in her chest didn't lift, but at least it didn't press harder.
When the car finally came to a stop in front of the mansion, she didn't move right away. The grand stone structure loomed against the afternoon sky, its shadows stretching over the ground like silent sentinels. It was beautiful in a way that had once comforted her, but now it felt like nothing more than a cage.
Lilia's mother was the first to step out. Her movements were as stiff as her expression, her eyes fixed straight ahead as though she couldn't see the world around her. She didn't glance back at the car, didn't check to see if Lilia was following. The old caretaker stood by the door, her posture neat and welcoming, but even her presence couldn't thaw the chill in the air.
Without so much as a glance, Lilia's mother swept past the woman as if she didn't exist. Lilia lingered behind, her eyes locking onto the caretaker's tired but kind face. It had always been like this—Lilia offering small gestures of acknowledgment while her mother carried on, oblivious to the humanity around her.
"Thank you," Lilia murmured, the words automatic and light, so much so that they felt hollow. The caretaker gave her a faint, understanding smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.
Dragging her feet toward the mansion, Lilia hesitated at the doorway. The air inside always felt colder, sharper, and more oppressive than outside. The grand staircase rose before her, its marble steps gleaming under the chandelier's light, but there was no warmth in the brightness.
Her feet were heavy as she climbed, each step weighing more than the last. The mansion seemed to press down on her from every angle—the high walls, the thick silence, the polished floors that echoed every sound as if the house itself wanted to remind her how small she was within it.
When she reached her room, she shut the door softly behind her, leaning against it for a moment as her chest tightened. She stood there, her back pressed against the cold wood, trying to steady her breathing. The silence in her room was louder than she remembered, wrapping around her like a suffocating blanket.
And then it came—the tears she had been holding back. Everything came falling like an endless stream as she began to cry.
Lilia pushed off the door and walked to her bed. Sitting down, she let her hands fall into her lap as the tears refused to stop. Her gaze drifted toward the window, but she didn't look outside. The thought of the world beyond the glass felt overwhelming—too vast, too distant. She was tired of it. Tired of trying to meet expectations that felt impossible to fulfill.
The only sound in the room was her sobs, filling the heavy silence around her.
She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees as her fingers tangled in her lap. Why was everything so heavy? Why did it feel like no matter how hard she tried, she would never be enough? Even here, alone in her room, the weight of everything bore down on her.
Her thoughts raced in circles, the same unanswered questions repeating endlessly in her mind. Could she ever escape this feeling? This house? This life? She didn't know, and the uncertainty gnawed at her like a slow poison.
Her fingers tightened into fists as her breathing grew uneven. She closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down, but the sense of isolation was unbearable. Surrounded by family, by wealth, by everything others might envy, she had never felt more alone.
Then she froze.
The faint creak of footsteps in the hallway outside her door broke through her spiraling thoughts. She didn't move, didn't open her eyes, but she could hear her mother's sharp heels clicking against the marble floor.
Was her mother coming here?
The sound grew softer as the footsteps moved away, but it left behind an ache in Lilia's chest.
Naomi's father sat at the edge of their bed, his posture relaxed as though he didn't have a care in the world. His words, however, were deliberate and cutting. "Good thing she's a virgin," he said, breaking the heavy silence that hung in the room.
Lilia's mother froze mid-motion, her breath catching as an icy wave ran through her. The implications of his words were clear, and the thought of what might have happened—of the humiliation their family could have faced if she wasn't—sent chills down her spine.
Her hands trembled as she tried to steady herself, gripping the edge of the bed tightly. She hated how easily he dismissed the ordeal, how his tone lacked any trace of concern.
Oblivious to her turmoil, he continued, his voice even and calm. "Mr. John called earlier. His son will be attending the masquerade tonight."
Lilia's mother barely registered the words. Her mind was still spinning, the weight of the earlier revelation pressing down on her.
Her husband's tone grew firmer. "Make sure Lilia looks her best."
That caught her attention. She blinked, turning toward him, her movements stiff. "Lilia?"
"Yes," he said, as though it were obvious. "She needs to be presentable. We have a lot riding on this."
She nodded mechanically, though her thoughts were elsewhere. The masquerade… Mr. John's son… Expectations hung in the air like a gathering storm, and she could feel it building, pressing closer.
Her husband's next words brought her back to the moment. "We need to inform Lilia. The date of her marriage has been changed."
It wasn't like Lilia had ever been made aware that she was to get married, so what was her husband even saying?
Her head snapped toward him, her eyes wide with disbelief. "What do you mean?"
He leaned back slightly, his expression calm, as if this were a minor detail. "Mr. John doesn't want to wait. Lilia is already 22. He doesn't see the need for her to turn 23. That would take months. He wants his son to marry her this week."
Her heart skipped a beat, the words sinking in slowly. "This week?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "But… that wasn't the plan."
"Plans change," he said sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Do you understand what this means for us? It's a huge advantage."
She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the floor. He wasn't wrong. This was everything they had worked for, wasn't it? So why did she feel a growing unease?
"I understand," she said at last, her voice low and hesitant.
Her husband gave a curt nod, then continued. "We'll break the news to Lilia tonight. She needs to be ready. The engagement must happen as soon as possible."
She nodded again, her movements automatic. But deep down, her thoughts were racing. Lilia didn't even know what was coming. She had no idea her life was about to change. How would she react to being told she was getting engaged—and married—to someone she had never met?
For a moment, Lilia's mother considered arguing. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them back. What was the point? Lilia's feelings didn't matter. None of their feelings mattered.
What mattered was the family, their reputation, and their future.
Her gaze hardened, her lingering doubts crushed beneath the weight of necessity. There was no room for second-guessing now.