Scene: Hiddleson's Mansion
đź‘‘Roseđź‘‘
The wristband buzzed.
5:30 AM.
I didn't feel ready. Not for the cold. Not for the bruises. Not for another day of pretending nothing was wrong.
The shower was ice. My skin flinched when the water hit, stinging where yesterday had left reminders. Fading bruises. New silences. I didn't cry. I couldn't afford to.
I wrapped myself in a cashmere sweater two sizes too big, sleeves grazing my knuckles. Loose silk pants, no tight waistbands today.
Makeup: light foundation, extra concealer. One layer to smooth, another to hide.
I grabbed a novel from the shelf. Something fictional. Something that didn't bleed.
Downstairs, the Hiddleson mansion was silent. Too silent.
The maid had already placed breakfast on the twelve-seater dining table. I sat at the very edge, book open beside my plate, chewing like it was a chore, not sustenance.
I was halfway through a dry croissant when the front door slammed open.
Tyla.
In full Jackson mode. Sharp coat, messy bun, zero eye contact. The kind of entrance that didn't ask for permission, only silence.
"You look like you haven't slept in a week," I said.
"I'm engaged," she replied, voice flat.
My jaw locked. "To who?"
Before she could answer, Claudia barged in, phone in hand, sunglasses already on like she was born in a Vogue editorial.
"Ladies! I had a dream I was married to a billionaire. Wait, you look depressed. Who died?"
Tyla didn't blink. "I'm engaged to Shane Williams."
Dead. Silence.
Claudia blinked once, then dropped her Fendi bag in pure dramatic fashion.
"I'm sorry, did someone lace my croissant with LSD? Shane?"
I stared at Tyla. "The guy you publicly embarrassed. At the gala. In front of everyone."
Her lips tightened. "It's a merger. The families decided."
Claudia gasped like she was watching an HBO betrayal arc.
"Wait, does Shane even know? Or are we talking arranged marriage, Bridgerton style?"
"He knows," Tyla replied. "And yes, arranged marriage."
Claudia clutched her heart. "Iconic."
I put down my fork. "So you're marrying someone you hate. For business."
"I'm not marrying him yet. I'm figuring it out."
She wasn't okay. But Tyla never was when it came to emotions.
She carried pain like fashion. Tailored, sharp, never sloppy.
Claudia bounced toward me mid-bite. "Go get dressed. We're shopping."
I stared "I look like an emotional mess."
"Perfect. That's what sunglasses are for," she winked.
I sighed and went upstairs.
Chose a red jumpsuit. Long-sleeved. Backless.
Makeup heavier. Armor.
When I came back down, Claudia eyed me.
"You look hot but sad. Add earrings."
"I'm not trying to seduce the mall."
Tyla stood by the door, already scrolling through her phone. "Let's go."
Outside, the air was cool. Our cars gleamed like warnings.
Tyla's pink Ferrari. Claudia's black McLaren. My red Lamborghini.
"I'm not in the mood to race," I muttered, opening my door.
Tyla smirked. "Then lose quietly."
Claudia revved her engine like it owed her money.
"Last one there pays for the first round."
The moment the gates opened, we shot off like fireworks.
Tyla drove like she was escaping something. Claudia like she was chasing chaos.
Me? I just needed wind in my face to remember I could still breathe.
We parked like royalty. Heels first, questions later.
Claudia immediately disappeared into Balmain, pulling clothes like a personal stylist on a sugar high.
"Rose!" she called, dangling a backless silver dress. "You'd look illegal in this."
"I'm not in the mood to look illegal."
"You're never in the mood. That's the problem."
Tyla leaned against a rack of blazers, phone still in hand, but her mind wasn't here.
I whispered, "Do you want this engagement?"
She didn't answer. Just kept scrolling.
Claudia returned, sunglasses down, whispering like we were in a soap opera.
"What if you guys fall in love?"
Tyla looked up, eyes cold.
"Not everything is a romance, Claudia."
I looked away. My fingers brushed the edge of a navy blue trench coat.
Soft. Safe.
We didn't talk about feelings. We talked about fashion because it was easier.
Because stitches were cleaner than conversations.
Back at my place, the floor looked like a designer apocalypse. Chanel, Prada, Balmain, all fighting for air.
Claudia sat on my velvet couch, heels still on. "That was therapy."
Tyla was by the mirror, adjusting a blazer like she could fix her future through fabric.
Her reflection was too perfect. Too polished.
A lie dressed in couture.
I sat by the window, legs tucked under me. My body ached again, but I didn't flinch.
Claudia sipped wine straight from the bottle.
"So... what now?"
Tyla didn't look up. "I'll play the game until I control the board."
"And if you lose?" I asked quietly.
She turned. Met my eyes. For a second, something cracked.
"I don't lose," she said.
We sat in silence for a while. Claudia kicked off her heels.
I loosened my necklace.
Tyla finally took off the blazer.
That's when she noticed it.
"You're bruised."
My hand flew up instinctively, brushing the edge of my collarbone.
Too late.
Claudia sat up. "Rose?"
"It's nothing."
Tyla's eyes narrowed. "That's not nothing. That's a handprint."
"I said it's nothing."
She crossed the room, standing in front of me now.
"Is it him?"
The air tightened.
"I'm fine," I said again. Sharper. Colder. A mimic of her.
"No, you're not," Claudia whispered.
"I don't need you to protect me," I snapped, standing up.
"You're not invincible either, Tyla. You're just better at pretending."
That landed like a slap. Her jaw tightened, but she didn't deny it.
"I'm handling it," I said.
"Just like you're handling your forced engagement, and Claudia's handling the weight of being the designer in a family of doctors".
The room froze.
Claudia went pale. "What did you just say?"
I hadn't meant to say it.
But the words were already out.
Tyla blinked, shocked silent for once.
"I didn't—" I started.
"No. Say it," Claudia demanded, standing now.
"Go ahead. You want to tear all of us open? Start with me."
I opened my mouth. But nothing came out.
Because the truth was, we were all breaking.
In silence.
And no one was ready to be the first to fall apart.
Tyla's phone buzzed. She looked down, then turned ghost-white.
"What is it?" I asked.
She didn't answer. Just grabbed her coat.
Claudia ran after her. "Tyla, what happened?"
She didn't turn back.
The door slammed behind her.