POV: Evelyn Hart
The gown was a soft shade of storm gray.
Selena had chosen blush. Of course.
I stood in front of the mirror, fixing the small silver pin at my collarbone, the only accessory I owned that didn't come from my mother's locked cabinet of "family heirlooms." This one was mine — a small moon-shaped brooch I'd once bought in college, alone.
It was strange how much of my life had started with things I thought were mine… and how much of it ended in things taken.
A soft knock. Then the door opened without waiting.
"Ready?" Zyden stood in the hallway, coat already on. Crisp. Cold.
I nodded.
He didn't say another word. Just turned.
Like I was a coat check girl. Or worse — an obligation.
---
The car ride to the gathering was silent.
I sat beside him in the backseat, my hands folded neatly in my lap, pretending to admire the city lights while my reflection in the glass stared back with hollow eyes.
The gathering wasn't large. Just the Cross family, the Voss family, and mine. A formal dinner under chandeliers, catered cuisine, polite smiles.
A show.
That's what this was.
A show for power, name, alliance. A mask.
I wondered what role I was meant to play.
Wife?
Daughter?
Mistake?
---
We arrived at the Voss estate's private hall. Ivory pillars, long driveway, warm golden lights.
A maid opened the car door for me. Zyden didn't.
He walked ahead.
I followed behind.
Inside, the air was thick with perfume, soft jazz, and the kind of laughter that doesn't reach the eyes. The long dining table glowed under crystal lighting. Gold name cards were placed in front of each seat.
I scanned the table, trying not to panic.
There was no card for me.
At the head sat Mr. and Mrs. Voss. Selena was already there, chatting sweetly with Caelan's mother, a vision in soft pink. Her laughter was too perfect — trained, measured.
Caelan stood near the fireplace, dark suit, emotionless eyes. He glanced at me briefly.
Then looked away.
---
Zyden took his seat beside his father.
I stood there, unsure where to go, until a maid quietly pulled up a chair at the very end of the table — one that clearly wasn't meant to be there.
No one offered help.
No one greeted me.
They just kept talking.
About stocks.
About expansion.
About Selena's poise.
About the "fresh beauty" of the Hart-Cross alliance.
I was in the picture.
But never in the frame.
---
Dinner began.
I chewed in silence, pretending to enjoy the carefully curated meal, even though each bite tasted like cardboard soaked in shame.
Selena dazzled. She spoke about upcoming charity events she would "love to host as a Voss." Mrs. Voss practically beamed at her. She called her "such a lovely young woman."
Selena smiled with lowered lashes. "I was raised that way."
Our mother nodded proudly. "Both our daughters were raised with grace."
Selena turned to her, touching her hand gently. "Evelyn is just... more private."
My fork paused halfway to my mouth.
Even their flattery was cold.
---
An hour passed. Two.
I became wallpaper.
When I tried to contribute something about an art auction I attended during university, Mr. Cross interrupted before I could finish.
"That's a nice thought, but Selena's idea seems more realistic."
The subject shifted. I was muted mid-sentence.
Caelan said nothing.
Just kept sipping his wine, eyes darting occasionally toward Selena.
Never toward me.
---
I excused myself to the restroom.
No one noticed.
No one stopped me.
In the marble bathroom, I locked the door and stood before the mirror. The light was too soft, too forgiving, but it couldn't hide the truth.
The woman looking back wasn't a bride.
She wasn't a daughter.
She wasn't even a guest.
She was the seat they forgot to save.
The name they buried under convenience.
The face they dressed up to keep their reputations alive.
---
When I returned, dessert was being served.
Zyden didn't glance at me.
Selena was laughing at something Caelan had said.
There was a warmth in his voice now — one I hadn't heard in years. Not since high school, when we used to talk under trees and dream about a world far from this.
I took my seat again, quietly.
The extra chair.
The one they had to drag in.
And then it happened.
Mrs. Voss looked between Selena and me with a smile. "You both looked beautiful at the wedding."
For a second, something flickered. A single heartbeat.
I opened my mouth.
But my mother leaned forward, placing her hand on Selena's. "Selena was radiant, wasn't she? We're so proud of the way she handled everything."
Handled.
Not "shared."
Not "included."
Handled.
I swallowed the pain like dry glass.
Selena nodded sweetly. "It was all a bit chaotic. But I think the right pairings happened in the end, don't you?"
Everyone agreed.
No one looked at me.
---
Later that night, we left early.
Zyden didn't wait for me at the door.
I followed quietly, stepping into the car like someone who had long forgotten the sound of her name being said kindly.
The drive was as silent as the arrival.
Back at the Cross estate, I went straight to my room.
---
I didn't cry.
I sat in front of the mirror, hair still pinned, lipstick still flawless, and stared at the stranger wearing my face.
The seat may have been forgotten.
But I had felt every second of it.
Every cold shoulder.
Every sideways glance.
Every silence heavy with things they'd rather not say aloud.
I was the unwanted truth behind their perfect photo.
And the worst part?
Even I had started to believe I didn't belong.
---