Chapter 115: The Facades
The sun was just a tad too ideal. Golden, warm, with the kind of radiance that made everything look like something that would be featured in a holiday brochure. Grass was thick under the picnic mat Zara had insisted on laying out with a rugged fervor, and the secret lake glimmered a few feet away, its water bumpy like a screensaver.
Rose hated that everything seemed so beautiful.
It was peaceful, fine—but the sort of peaceful that crawled under her skin. Like something wicked was hiding just under all that serenity.
Zara was hosting this party full-out, practically skipping around with a Bluetooth speaker blasting cheerful tunes. Damien had taken off his shoes and was slicing strawberries, holding them in front of Rose’s lips one at a time like he was auditioning for the lead role in Flirty Farm Boy Falls for the Girl in a Wheelchair.
"Want another one?" he asked, holding it up to her mouth.
She smiled, shook her head politely. "You’re going to run out."
"I’ve got a whole basket," he said with a wink.
She forced a soft laugh. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the attention—it was just that it felt... wrong. Too public. Too fake. Too easy.
From behind the blanket, Rolan hadn’t uttered a single word. He sat at the periphery of the grouping like he didn’t belong there, arms folded, dark frames on. But even behind the glasses, she felt his eyes. Watching her. Tracking each movement. Seeping holes into Damien.
She would not look back at him.
And just as she was starting to relax, a voice sliced through the air like a knife drenched in perfume.