CHAPTER FIVE #2
“Luna, darling, your dress is over there.” Mum’s voice cut through the static in my head, light and proud, waiting for a reaction.
I tore my eyes from the glowing screen, from the message waiting like a snake coiled and patient. I nodded, unable to say anything that would make her notice the tremor in my voice.
I’d read it later. When I had a second alone.
The suite began to fill. First a trickle of footsteps in the hallway, then bursts of cheerful voices.
My mum’s friends arrived in pairs, the air shifting with their energy, laughter weaving into the background hum of the ocean outside.
They embraced her one by one, congratulating, teasing, talking over each other with the kind of ease that comes from years of shared memories.
When no one was watching, I slipped away. Just a few steps toward the window, the one framed in gauzy curtains and sunlight that spilled like liquid gold. Outside, the ocean shimmered in morning light. Calm. Innocent. A lie.
My fingers brushed the fabric of my dress, searching, finding the hidden pocket. The phone was small, warm from my body heat.
I shouldn’t.
But I did.
The screen lit up.
And the new message popped up.
You’re running out of time.
Stop the wedding before it’s too late.
Once she says “I do,” your fate is sealed.
The words glared back at me, black against white, simple and merciless. My stomach twisted, sharp as glass.
For a long, aching second, I couldn’t move. The chatter behind me dimmed, the room blurring at the edges. The dress felt too tight, the air too thin.
My throat locked around a breath that wouldn’t come.
I turned off the screen, shoving the phone back into the pocket as if I could bury the fear with it. I stood very still, watching the sunlight glint against the glass, pretending to be just another girl waiting for a wedding to start.
But inside, I could feel it, something shifting.
I turned back to the guests. Some faces I recognized from photographs my mother had sent in emails; others were strangers, their perfume and chatter as unfamiliar as their names.
Then the double doors opened again and two women swept in, their laughter spilling into the room like champagne fizz. I knew them instantly.
“Eleanor!” one cried, a tall woman with a mane of fiery red hair and an exuberant smile that made her green eyes spark. “My God, you look radiant!”
“Sarah! Morgan!” My mother’s face lit up as she crossed the room to embrace them.
Sarah’s arms wrapped tightly around her before she turned to me, her expression softening. “And this must be Luna. My goodness. You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman. I remember you as a little thing, always tucked in a corner with one of your dad’s history books too big for your lap.”
Morgan, petite and poised, her skin glowing against the pale silk of her dress, added warmly, “And asking the best questions. Always thinking. It’s wonderful to see you again, Luna.”
Their warmth was disarming. My smile came easily, unforced. “It’s lovely to see you both, too. I remember you visiting.”
“Of course you do, darling,” Eleanor beamed, sliding an arm through mine.
“Sarah and Morgan were my bridesmaids at my wedding with your dad. They’ve been with me through everything.
” She reached for their hands, her voice dipping into something more tender.
“And now, they’re here for this new chapter. ”
I let the moment settle around us like sunlight, bright, warm, and fleeting. Because deep down, I knew perfect days never stayed perfect for long.
My thoughts drifted to the messages on my phone.
Were they telling the truth? Because if they were, the perfect days would be over the second the marriage was official.
Soft music started to drift from a hidden speaker, an easy mix of breezy Hawaiian melodies and pop songs with infectious beats.
Hairdryers whirred in a constant hum, punctuated by the metallic click of curling irons opening and snapping shut.
The scent in the air was a heady cocktail, hairspray sharp enough to sting the back of my throat, mingling with the sweetness of the flowers and the warm, powdery trace of expensive perfume.
Champagne flutes clinked like tiny bells, women toasted, and bursts of laughter broke free without warning, fizzing into the air like champagne bubbles that would never pop.
I let myself be pulled into the current of it.
One minute I was holding hairpins between my teeth, the next I was crouched at my mother’s feet, helping fasten the final row of delicate buttons on her gown.
It was a dress spun from sunlight, white lace dusted with shimmer that caught every movement.
I fetched lipsticks, passed tissues, and sat quietly while the women around me peeled back time with their stories about my mother at twenty, reckless and magnetic, dancing barefoot on rooftops and stealing kisses behind locked dorm doors.
It was a version of her I rarely saw. I wanted to hold onto it for as long as I could.
More people drifted in as the morning deepened. Relatives I didn’t know. Friends with voices too loud for such a delicate space. Each arrival brought new congratulations, new stories, new champagne top-ups.
“Now, Luna,” Sarah said, her green eyes locking on me from the makeup chair, where a stylist was layering gold shimmer over her lids. “Your mum tells us you’re moving to Palo Alto soon! That must be exciting. Are you looking forward to it?”
The question slid into me like a stone dropped into water, small, but enough to send ripples outwards. I glanced at Mum, who sat a few feet away, her head tilted back as a hairdresser smoothed pins into the sleek twist at her crown. She looked blissfully unaware. I didn’t want to puncture that.
“It’s… a big change,” I said, shaping the words as if they might bruise.
“I’m excited to be closer to Mum. And it’s a beautiful area.
” I left out the homesickness, the knot in my stomach every time I thought about leaving Dad and the friends who’d known me since I was five.
“It’s my senior year, though, so… starting somewhere new right at the end is a little daunting. ”
“Oh, don’t you worry, darling,” Morgan said, her voice warm from where she sat getting her nails painted a glossy coral. “Ravenstone High’s a fantastic school. Your mum says you’re brilliant. You’ll settle in in no time.”
Another woman leaned forward from across the room, her tone curious but kind. “And what have you been up to, Luna? Still learning about history your mum used to tell us about?”
A real smile tugged at my mouth this time. “Yes. Mostly the Song Dynasty lately, though I’m hoping to move on to Medieval Europe soon.”
“Oh, how wonderful,” Carol said, her eyes crinkling. “A true historian, just like your father.”
The conversation moved like tidewater, shifting and swirling. I answered questions about history and future plans, about why I wanted to study history and what I loved most about it. Their attention was warm but not heavy, and little by little, I loosened in my chair.
And then it came.
Sarah’s voice was light, but her question cut sharper than she knew. “And what about your new stepfamily, Luna? Are you excited to meet Marcus? And Riley? Your mum speaks so highly of them both.”
Marcus.
Riley.
The sound of their names slid through me like a warning.
For a heartbeat, the music, the laughter, the clink of glass, all of it seemed to recede. My mind wasn’t in the bridal suite anymore.
My pulse tripped, my mouth dry. I forced myself to look up, to smile.
They were due to arrive for the ceremony, swept into the chaos of vows and champagne and photographs. I pictured someone faceless, maybe tall, maybe quiet, the kind of boy who wouldn’t notice me if we passed in the same hallway.
I forced my lips into a smile, keeping my voice even.
“Yes, I am. Mum’s told me a lot about Marcus. He sounds wonderful. And Riley… I haven’t met him yet. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Oh, they’re both lovely,” Morgan assured me warmly from her spot at the nail table.
“Marcus is a true gentleman, absolutely devoted to Eleanor. And Riley is… well, a typical teenage boy. Handsome. Smart. Most of the time a bit reserved, but with a good head on his shoulders. He’s the same age as you, I think? Maybe a few months older?”
The same age. That meant school together.
Same classes, same lunch breaks, same crowded hallways where there’d be no avoiding each other.
My stomach tightened, not from dread exactly, but from the knowledge that my final year would begin with the unshakable label of “the new girl” in more ways than one.
“His eighteenth birthday is in two weeks,” Mum’s voice floated across the suite. Her eyes were still closed as the stylist’s fingers wove pins into her hair, but there was a soft smile on her lips. “Also doing his senior year. You’ll be at the same school, Luna. Isn’t that lovely?”
Lovely. That word seemed far too simple for what it meant. A complete upheaval of my life, new streets, new people, new rules. But I nodded anyway. “That’s… good,” I murmured. “I’m sure he’ll be… helpful.”
The conversation drifted back to wedding talk. Final fittings, flowers, a forgotten lipstick someone was sent rushing to retrieve. I smiled where I was meant to, answered with polite nods and quiet yeses, but my thoughts wandered.
Outside the balcony doors, the resort gleamed in the midday light.
Palm fronds stirred lazily, their shadows swaying across white stone.
Far below, waves whispered against the beach in slow, rhythmic sighs.
The whole place looked untouched, like a postcard.
A stark contrast to the churning sense of change inside me.
I glanced at Mum. She was laughing now at something Sarah had said, her face radiant, her joy unshakable. Guilt pricked at me for letting my own nerves creep in. I wouldn’t ruin this for her. Not today. Not ever.
No matter how many messages I received.
When the final curl of hair was pinned and her makeup perfected, she rose from her chair.
“Alright, ladies,” she announced, voice bright with excitement. “Time for the final touches!”
A cheer rippled through the suite. Perfume thickened in the air, fabric rustled, and the atmosphere sharpened into a charged buzz. I stepped forward instinctively to help, my hands ready even while my mind kept circling the truth I couldn’t ignore.
By the end of today, my new family wouldn’t just be a name anymore.
They’d be real.
And I’d have to find a way to live with that.