Friday will come with all its tests and traps and judgment. But right now, in this moment, I let myself believe that maybe we can survive it together.
That freedom might actually be possible.
That I might actually be brave enough to choose it.
"Draco?" I say quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for not running."
He pulls me closer, presses a kiss to my temple. "Thank you for being worth staying for."
And in the safety of Grace's cottage—the place where all of this began—we sit together and plan for a Friday night that will change everything.
One way or another.
Chapter Sixteen
Charity
The dress Mother laid out on my bed looks like armor.
Navy silk with a high neckline and three-quarter sleeves—conservative enough to please her, expensive enough to announce my status. The pearls beside it belonged to Grace. Mother's been pulling them out more often lately, as if dressing me in my dead sister's jewelry will somehow transform me into the perfect daughter she lost.
I fasten the clasp with shaking hands.
Friday arrived too quickly. All week I've been trying to prepare Draco, sending him texts about which fork to use and how to address my parents, but he just kept responding with reassurances and that infuriating confidence that makes me want to kiss him and shake him in equal measure.
Trust me, he kept saying.I've got this.
But he doesn't know my parents the way I do. Doesn't understand how they can slice someone apart with perfect manners and a smile.
My phone buzzes on the vanity.
Draco:On my way. You look beautiful.
Me:How do you know what I look like?
Draco:Because you always look beautiful. Also, I can see you from the path. You're pacing in front of your window.
I freeze, then spot him through the glass—dressed in dark clothes that fit his perfect body surprisingly well. When I texted him yesterday about needing formal attire, he'd been evasive about how he'd handle it. Now I understand—he must have borrowed something, or maybe found a decent suit at one of those vintage stores we visited.
He waves, and despite my anxiety, I feel myself smile.
Me:You look good. Where did you…?
Draco: Thrift store magic. Tell you later. Ready for battle?
I take one last look in the mirror—pearl earrings, minimal makeup, hair in a neat chignon that took me forty minutes to perfect. I look exactly like what Mother wants: a well-bred young woman from a good family, polished and appropriate and stripped of anything real.
Grace's ghost stares back at me from the mirror.
I tear my gaze away and head downstairs.
Father's already in the formal dining room when I arrive, reviewing something on his tablet. Heglances up, nods approval at my appearance, then returns to his screen. Mother sweeps in moments later, pausing to adjust one of my pearl earrings with cool fingers.
"Much better," she murmurs. "Now remember, darling—be yourself, but the appropriate version."
