Heather
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I’ve been glued to my mother’s side all evening.

Every step I take feels like walking on hot coals.

My shoes—stilettos I never should’ve agreed to wear—are burning into the balls of my feet, but I can’t show it. I have to smile, nod, laugh at all the right moments, even when my head is spinning and my heart feels like it’s about to break open.

Because Robin is here.

I didn’t see her at first. I was too busy being the dutiful fiancée, the perfect daughter.

But the moment our eyes met across the room, I knew I was screwed.

How is she here?

Friends of the family, maybe. A coincidence.

It doesn’t matter. What matters is that she’s here, looking like she walked out of a dream in that blue dress, her wild hair pulled back just enough to show the curve of her neck. And now she knows.

She knows I lied.

I told her I didn’t have a fiancé. I joked about it, even, because I wanted to keep her. Just for a little while. Just for myself.

And now? Now I have to stand here and pretend my whole life isn’t about to fall apart in front of me.

“Smile,” my mother whispers, her nails digging into my arm as she steers me toward another group of guests.

Right, tonight's motto.

I plaster on a smile, the kind of smile I’ve perfected over years of galas and family events, the one that says everything is fine, and I'm doing great even when nothing is fine and I just want to say fuck this and leave.

I’m handed off to Javis after that, my fiancé and the source of all my current chaos.

He beams at me like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him, which I am, and I feel a pang of guilt.

He’s a good man really. Steady and kind, everything someone like me is supposed to want.

So why do I keep thinking about Robin?

Javis leads me through the crowd, introducing me to people I’ll never remember, and might not meet again and I nod and smile and even laugh in all the right places.

A few more hours and all this will be over. A few more hours and I will be out of here.

But good lord, the same 'few more hours' feel like decades because my insides are churning.

Robin’s here. I remind myself.

She’s here, and she’s going to see me with Javis. And she is going to ask...what will I say then?

The thought is enough to make my stomach cringe all over again, but I keep my face neutral. I’ve learned how to do that over the years.

How to hide everything I’m feeling behind a polite laugh and a soft smile.

Javis places a kiss on my cheeks when we peel away from another goofy couple. The kind that's all happy and shit to save face but they're struggling behind closed doors.

“Come on, I want you to meet my sisters.”

More people to meet!

But I can't tell him how exhausted I am and wished I could just kick off my shoes and sit the fuck down.

I smile as he starts leading me across the room, and my legs feel like they’re made of lead.

I don’t know what I’m expecting, but when we reach the group he’s pointing to, my heart plummets straight into my stomach.

Robin is standing there, a wine glass in one hand, her lips curled into a crooked smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she attentively listens to another older man.

Next to her is another woman—a blonde full of bouncy energy that I wished I had.

They look different enough at first glance, but now that they’re standing side by side, the resemblance is impossible to miss. The blondes are photocopies of each other.

When Javis stands next to them, it clicks all at once, and I feel like I’ve been hit by a speeding train.

Robin isn’t just here because she's a friend of the family I'm being married off to. She’s Javis’s sister.

Oh, fuck.

“This is Robin, my elder sister only by like a week or so,” Javis says, gesturing toward her with a coy smile. “And Melanie, my baby sister.”

Robin steps forward, and my breath catches in my throat. She looks incredible in that dress, her hair framing her face in just the right way, but her eyes… her eyes are cold.

“Hi,” she says, extending a hand. Her voice is light, almost casual, but there’s a sharpness to it that's hard to ignore.

I take her hand, and it’s like touching ice. “Hi,” I manage, my voice shaky.

Her grip is firm, her fingers lingering just long enough to make me sweat, before she pulls back and turns her attention elsewhere.

Javis doesn’t notice a thing. He’s too busy chatting with Melanie, who’s regaling him with some story about a bachelorette party gone wrong and how she wants to organize ours.

I, on the other hand, feel like I’m on the verge of collapsing.

Robin knows.

I can see it in her eyes, in the way she looks at me, like she’s trying to decide whether to call me out right here in the middle of it all.

But she doesn’t. She just sips her wine and lets Melanie carry the conversation, like she couldn’t care less about my existence.

It’s worse than if she’d yelled at me.

Because I care. I care too much, and now I have no idea what to do with myself.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur. I’m passed from one group of guests to another, smiling and nodding and making small talk, but my mind is stuck on Robin.

I can feel her watching me sometimes, her gaze sharp and piercing, but she never approaches.

Javis, bless him, is oblivious to it all. He keeps me close, his hand on the small of my back as he introduces me to more people, and I play the part of the doting fiancée like my life depends on it.

But every time I glance across the room, Robin is there.

At one point, she catches my eye and raises her glass in a mock toast, her lips curving into a smirk that sends a shiver down my spine.

I look away, my face burning.

What am I supposed to do? What should I do?

I don’t have an answer.

All I know is that this—whatever this is—is going to get super messy.