The room falls into a comfortable silence. Dakota stands, stretching slightly, and picks up her water glass.
“Do you work out? I’m going to need to work off thatchocolate.”
“I don’t. I’ve never worked out before.”
“Well, do you want to come with me tomorrow? You don’t have to do anything, I’d enjoy your company and getting to know you. And if you want to, I can help you with anything.”
I hesitate, then think fuck it.
“Sure, tomorrow.” I nod.
She nods. “Okay. Tomorrow.”
Then, before I can leave, she adds quietly, “I meant it, you know. I’m really glad you’re here.”
The momentI shut the door behind me, I lock it. The click is quiet, but it fills the whole room like a shout. My chest rises and falls as I lean back against the door.
The quiet in the room is golden and still, lit by the warm glow of the chandelier above. Everything is untouched: the soft bedding, the neatly folded clothes, the elegant desk tucked beside the window. It all looks like a magazine spread, like it belongs to someone else.
Dinner went better than I expected. No jabs. No raised voices. Dakota smiled at me, even made space at the table when she didn’t have to. Still, something in me buzzes with tension. Like I’ve been braced for impact so long, I don’t know how to stop.
I pull the sweater over my head, toss it onto a chair, and grab my phone. My thumb moves on instinct, tapping Maeve’s name.
It rings once. Twice.
“Hey,” she says, warm and familiar.
My pounding heart seems to slow and I can take a deep breath.
“How’s castle life?”
I huff a quiet laugh. “You have no idea.”
“Ooh, that good already?”
“Dinner was… honestly not what I expected.”
There’s a beat of silence. “That sounds suspiciously not terrible.”
I smile. “I met Dakota. My… stepsister. She’s my age. Beautiful. Composed. She looks like a Barbie.”
Maeve hums. “Sounds like she’s one of those ‘perfect on paper but secretly a viper’ types.”
“Actually… no. She was nice.” That surprises even me as I say it.
“Wait. Nice, nice? Or, like, ‘smiling shark’ nice?”
“She made room for me. Gave me the good bread. Even asked if I was okay. She seemed like she genuinely wanted to get know me.”
Maeve lets out a soft breath. “Wow. Okay. That’s… weirdly wholesome. I was ready to sharpen my claws.”
“I was, too.” I pace a slow circle on the rug. “I think I went in expecting a fight. I was bracing for it. But it didn’t come. Now I don’t know what to do with the fact that she might actually want me here.”
“Maybe,” Maeve says gently, “that’s allowed to feel good.”
“I want it to. I really do.”
“Then start there.”
