November 23rd, 2022
Mei Chen’s Fundraiser
The house was immaculate, polished to a perfection Lilia found absurd. The chandeliers gleamed, the floors shimmered, and an army of waiters weaved through the crowd, serving champagne on silver trays. Guests milled about, smiling, laughing, and exchanging pleasantries, while the distant strains of classical music floated through the air, punctuating the laughter and clinking glasses. The entire evening seemed like a cruel joke to Lilia.
Her mother, of course, was in her element—standing by the grand staircase, entertaining the elite like nothing had changed, as though her daughter wasn’t under a cloud of suspicion, her every movement scrutinized. Lilia sipped her champagne from the corner of the room, tucked away like a forgotten detail in the otherwise pristine picture. Her gown was elegant—floor-length, satin, with a muted shade of burgundy that seemed appropriate for the evening—but she didn’t feel like she belonged in it. Shefelt trapped, her breath tight in her chest as she watched the world move around her.
“Quite the event, isn’t it?” a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.
Lilia glanced up to find Professor Jameson approaching her, a woman by his side, glued to his arm. Lilia raised her glass to her lips but said nothing.
“More like a spectacle,” she muttered, eyes scanning the crowded room before they dropped back to her champagne. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she added quickly, realizing she hadn’t acknowledged the woman beside him.
Jameson chuckled softly, entirely at ease. “I’m not sure you’ve met before. Lilia, this is my girlfriend, Phoebe. Honey, this is Lilia Chen.”
Phoebe stepped forward with a radiant smile, her blonde hair catching the soft light as she extended her hand. Her striking blue eyes seemed to bore right into Lilia. “You wrote that paper on the fragility of human nature that was published in the Hawthorne Review, didn’t you? It was beautiful,” she said, shaking Lilia’s hand warmly. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
Lilia felt a twinge of discomfort as she grasped Phoebe’s hand, her smile weak and forced. “Thank you,” she replied quietly. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
Jameson’s arm slid around Phoebe’s waist, drawing her closer. “Well, we should make our rounds,” he said with a soft smile. “It was nice seeing you, Lilia. I see you’ve also found suitable attire,” he added, gesturing vaguely to her dress.
Lilia’s lips twitched in a semblance of a smile, though her shoulders slumped slightly under the weight of his gaze. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Jameson gave her a last lingering look before guiding Phoebe away, disappearing into the throng of guests. And just like that, Lilia was alone again. Alone with her thoughts, with theoppressive weight of the night bearing down on her. Her mother was only a few feet away, beaming as she charmed a small circle of admirers, as though her daughter’s life wasn’t slowly unraveling. As though this wasn’t just a distraction from the inevitable, the looming reality that every ticking second brought her closer to the possibility of being locked behind bars.
Lilia shook her head bitterly, setting her empty glass down on a nearby table. Spotting a waiter passing by, she snagged another glass of champagne from his tray without a second thought. Maybe she could forget, just for a little while.
“Easy there, turbo.” A familiar hand reached out, snatching the glass from her hand just as she raised it to her lips.
Lilia looked up to find Sebastian standing before her, his expression halfway between amusement and concern. He was dressed sharply in a suit, his dark hair curling behind his ears in that familiar way that always softened the sharpness of his features.
“You’re the last person who should be commenting on my sobriety,” she muttered, her tone halfhearted but tinged with affection.
Sebastian grinned, twirling the champagne flute between his fingers before setting it back down. “You look handsome, by the way,” she added quietly, tugging at the lapel of his suit. “Very dapper.”
He chuckled, clasping her free hand. “Come on, let’s dance.” He gestured toward the dance floor, where couples were swaying in time to the soft music.
“No,” Lilia groaned, pulling away slightly. “Seb, I really don’t want to.”
“Listen to me,” he whispered, leaning in closer. “If you let them see that they’re getting to you, then they win. So screw them. Come here.” He pulled her gently toward the dance floor, ignoring her weak protests.
Reluctantly, Lilia allowed herself to be drawn into his embrace, her arms slipping around his neck. She could feel the eyes on her, the whispers passing through the crowd like an invisible current. “Everyone is looking,” she murmured.
“Let them look,” Sebastian shrugged, pulling her closer. “Fuck them.”
Lilia scowled, her gaze flickering across the room as she caught people whispering behind raised hands. “They’re probably going to think I’m dating you now,” she grumbled.
Sebastian smirked, leaning in close. “Should we kiss?” he teased.
Lilia glared up at him, punching his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”
They swayed in silence for a few moments, Sebastian’s chin resting on her shoulder. She could feel his breath warm against her skin, and for a fleeting second, she let herself relax into the comfort of his presence. But then his voice broke the silence, low and hushed.
“He misses you,” Sebastian murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Like hell.”
Lilia’s eyes darted over Sebastian’s shoulder, finding Augustus standing across the room, sandwiched between his father and older brother. He looked miserable—his eyes sunken and lifeless, his face pale and drawn. He was a ghost of the boy she used to know, and the sight of him made her chest ache with something she couldn’t quite place.
“This is all one big mess,” Lilia whispered, her voice heavy with guilt.
