Chapter 8
1050words
During that time, Julian didn't contact me again. I thought those hollow blessings in the elevator had been his way of drawing an unspoken conclusion to our twisted history.
Until that Thursday afternoon. I was painting in my studio when my phone began vibrating beside the easel.
Flashing on the screen was a name I thought I'd never see again—Julian Chase.
My heart skipped a beat. My brush froze mid-air, a drop of paint falling onto the canvas like a drop of congealed blood.
I didn't want to answer.
Leo, who had been quietly watching me paint from behind, noticed my sudden tension. He stepped forward and without asking who was calling, said calmly: "Let me take it."
He answered the phone.
"Hello."
……
On the other end, Julian seemed caught off guard by a man's voice. He fell silent for several seconds. Leo waited patiently, one hand resting on my shoulder, his warmth through the thin fabric offering silent support.
Finally, Julian's voice came through with forced casualness: "Is Clara there? Put her on."
Leo's eyes met mine, silently asking for my decision.
I nodded.
Leo handed me the phone without putting it on speaker. Yet in the quiet studio, I could still hear every word Julian said.
"Are you free on Saturday?" he asked.
"What's up?" My voice was as calm as a frozen lake.
"Let's go to Leo's engagement party together," he said, deliberately slowing his speech as if testing me word by word. "Remember him? That guy from freshman year…"
When I didn't respond, he continued in that patronizing, coaxing tone he'd always used: "Don't worry about bringing a gift. I'll handle it."
My fingernails dug crescents into my palms.
Without a word, I handed the phone back to Leo.
Leo seemed to understand everything. He took the phone, and in those typically sharp eyes flashed the faint smile of a victor.
He said to Julian: "She doesn't need to prepare a gift anyway."
This time, the other end of the line fell into a long silence.
Leo waited with perfect composure, then, like an elegant fencer, delivered the final, fatal thrust.
"Julian," he asked, his voice carrying a polite but devastating cruelty, "since when does a bride need to bring a gift to her own wedding?"
Through the phone came nothing but breathing. So faint, so fragile—like the last flutter of a dying butterfly's wings.
"Put her back on." After what felt like forever, Julian's voice returned, terrifyingly calm.
I took the phone and heard him ask through the static:
"When… were you planning to tell me?"
"I wasn't planning to tell you at all," I said slowly, speaking the truth. Mimicking what he had once said to me in that bathroom, I delivered my own killing blow with perfect calm:
"In a relationship like ours, things like invitations aren't even a consideration. You know that, right?"
On the other end, Julian let out a soft laugh.
That laugh seemed forced from deep within his chest, carrying the bone-chilling bite of a winter night that could pierce straight to the heart.
"You should have told me earlier."
"Why are you being so guarded against me?"
"I told you I would sincerely wish you well," he emphasized the last few words, each one seemingly forced through clenched teeth, "as long as you… truly like him."
He hung up.
Before the engagement party, Leo visited my parents. Everything went smoothly. Afterward, my mother said: "Mrs. Chase is practically your godmother. She's loved you like her own daughter since you were little. Now that you're engaged, you should bring Leo to meet her."
So I brought Leo to the Chase family mansion—a place once so familiar but now felt suffocating.
When Mrs. Chase saw us, her face lit up with delight as she took Leo's hand and peppered him with questions. I stood to the side, my gaze drifting to the courtyard where a faded pinwheel Julian and I had made as children still hung from the old locust tree.
When I looked back, I unexpectedly locked eyes with Julian coming down the stairs.
I'd assumed he wouldn't be home.
Mrs. Chase excitedly called to him: "Julian, look at Clara and Leo! What a perfect couple they make!"
Julian sat on the sofa opposite us and poured himself a glass of water.
"I was the one who introduced them," he began, his voice flat. "And yet I was the last to know they were together."
He raised his eyes to Leo, his lips curling into a cold smile. "How despicable."
Mrs. Chase, missing the venom in his words, continued excitedly patting her son's shoulder. "This is wonderful news! As the matchmaker, you deserve an extra special gift!"
"Actually, that's not how it happened," I couldn't help explaining. "Leo and I have known each other since sophomore year."
"Cut it out," Julian interrupted. "What did he have to do with anything back then?"
"He's right—he had nothing to do with it," Leo continued smoothly, telling Mrs. Chase candidly. "Back then, Clara didn't like me."
"Are you sure she likes you now?" Julian's words were directed at Leo, but his eyes, like poisoned daggers, were fixed on me.
The atmosphere at the dinner table instantly froze.
Mrs. Chase awkwardly tried to smooth things over. "What are you saying? If they're getting married, they must like each other."
I turned to see Leo's expression. Though his face remained controlled and calm, I sensed a trace of anxiety he was trying hard to conceal.
His elbow rested on the table, his fingers hanging naturally—knuckles distinct, slender and fair.
Under the table, hidden from view, I quietly reached out and tentatively poked his fingertip with mine.
His fingertip trembled slightly.
When I reached out again, he suddenly caught my entire hand, interlocking our fingers in a tight grip.
I felt his body instantly relax, and I couldn't help giving him a reassuring smile.
When I looked up, I met Julian's eyes—I'd almost forgotten he was sitting across from us.
He stared intently, his gaze traveling down my arm to our clasped hands.
He had seen everything.
In those unfathomable eyes, I watched a landscape of ruins crumbling to dust.
