How Time Changes
The lock clicked open just after ten.
Melody looked up from the floor where she sat, knees drawn up, the small pile of antibiotic pills and ointment beside her like fragile treasures. The door swung wide.
Ashley stepped in, flawless as always, hair swept into a high ponytail, makeup perfect, wearing a soft cashmere sweater that probably cost more than Melody’s entire wardrobe. She carried nothing but a cruel little smile.
“Get up,” Ashley said, voice clipped. “Clean yourself. You stink.”
Melody blinked slowly, body heavy from hunger and exhaustion. “Why?”
Ashley crossed her arms. “Victoria’s friends are coming for lunch. A little gathering. You’ll be serving them.”
Melody’s stomach twisted, both from the thought and from the emptiness inside it. “I’m not their servant.”
Ashley’s smile sharpened into something vicious.
“You are whatever we say you are,” she said. “Now get up and clean yourself. Shower. Comb that rat’s nest you call hair. Put on something that doesn’t look like a rag. You’re not embarrassing us in front of guests.”
Melody shook her head, voice small but steady. “No. I won’t do it.”
Ashley’s expression darkened. She stepped forward in one quick stride and grabbed Melody by the front of her nightgown, yanking her to her feet. Melody gasped as the sudden movement pulled at her stitches, fresh pain lancing through her abdomen.
“You think you have a choice?” Ashley hissed, face inches from Melody’s. “You’re nothing here. Less than nothing. You killed Ashton. You trapped Christian. You don’t get to say no.”
Melody tried to pull away. “I’m not—”
Ashley’s hand cracked across her cheek... hard, ringing. Melody’s head snapped to the side, vision spotting white.
“You will do as we say,” Ashley said, voice low and venomous. “Or I swear to God, you’ll never see Symphony again. Not even a glimpse. I’ll make sure she forgets your face. I’ll be the only mother she knows.”
Melody froze. Tears welled instantly, spilling hot down her cheeks.
Ashley released her with a shove, letting her stumble back against the bed.
“Shower. Now. And be downstairs in twenty minutes. Wear the something that makes you look less like the pathetic little nobody you are.”
Ashley turned on her heel and walked out.
The door locked behind her.
Melody stood there, hand pressed to her stinging cheek, tears falling freely.
She looked at the closed door.
Then at the small bottle of pills Sally had risked everything to give her.
She swallowed once, hard.
Then she moved toward the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, she would walk downstairs.
Not because she wanted to.
But because she had no choice.
Because the only thing worse than serving them… was losing her daughter forever.
×××××××
I remember how people used to describe me back then.
“Melody Evans? Oh, she’s a force.”
“She doesn’t take nonsense from anyone.”
“She walks into a room and owns it without trying.”
I didn’t realize how true it was until I lost it.
I used to laugh loud when something was funny, not caring who heard.
I’d argue in meetings if the numbers were wrong, voice steady, eyes sharp, never backing down even when the room went quiet.
I’d walk home alone at midnight through the city streets because I liked the way the lights looked on wet pavement after rain.
I carried pepper spray because I refused to be anyone’s victim.
I was the girl who’d tell a creep in a bar to go to hell with a smile that made him shrink.
The one who’d dance alone at parties if no one asked me, because I didn’t need permission to enjoy myself.
I’d stay up all night reading thrillers or crunching numbers or writing stupid poetry that no one would ever see, just because I felt like it.
I was alive.
Unapologetic.
Free-spirited in the quietest, most stubborn way.
I never let anyone dim that light. Not my parents when they left me. Not the orphanage when kids called me weird. Not even Ashton when he started his games.
I said no. Loudly. Clearly. Every time.
I protected myself like a fortress.
No cracks.
No apologies.
And then Christian happened.
Not the revenge. Not the marriage.
Not even the hate.
Just… him.
The way he looked at me once, like I mattered.
The way he draped his coat over my shoulders that rainy day.
The way he smiled when the sky opened up.
I let him in.
Just a little.
Just enough.
And once the door cracked open, everything rushed in after him... grief, rage, lies, punishment.
They took the girl I used to stand nose to nose to anyone who tried to mess with her, and turned her into someone who flinches at footsteps.
Who covers her scars like they’re shameful.
Who begs for scraps of her own child.
I look in the mirror now and I don’t recognize her.
Pale. Hollow. Broken.
But somewhere under all this hurt…
I can still feel her.
The girl who fought.
The girl who laughed.
The girl who said no and meant it.
She’s not gone.
She’s just buried under layers of pain so thick I can barely breathe through them.
I don’t know if she’ll ever come back.
But I hope she does.
Because I miss her.
I miss being someone who never let anyone come near her.
Even a fly.
—Melody
×××××××
The dining room doors were flung wide open, letting the chatter and clink of crystal glasses spill into the hallway. Melody stood just outside the threshold, gray dress hanging loose on her too-thin frame, hair pulled back in a severe knot. Her cheek still stung from Ashley’s slap earlier.
The stitches under the fabric pulled with every breath. She carried a silver tray, water pitchers, bread baskets, small plates of appetizers, hands trembling so badly the glasses clinked.
Victoria’s friends, five perfectly coiffed women in designer daywear, sat around the long table, laughing, sipping rosé. Ashley was at the head, radiant in white silk, holding court like she already owned the house.
Melody stepped inside.
The conversation died for half a second.
Then the laughter started.
“Oh my God,” one woman said, hand to her mouth. “Is that her?”
Victoria leaned back in her chair, smiling thinly. “Yes, ladies. Meet Melody. Our little… housekeeper for the day.”
Ashley clapped once, delighted. “Come on, Melody. Don’t be shy. Serve the wine.”
Melody moved forward on unsteady legs. She poured for the first woman, hands shaking so badly a few drops splashed onto the tablecloth.
“Tsk,” the woman tutted. “Clumsy. No wonder she can’t keep a man.”
Another laughed. “Or a child. I heard she tried to feed the baby herself. Disgusting.”
Melody’s throat closed. She moved to the next glass. Poured. Spilled again.
“Look at her,” Ashley said loudly, voice dripping honeyed poison. “Still bloated from the pregnancy. That belly, honestly, it’s tragic. Christian must be repulsed every time he sees her.”
Victoria sipped her wine. “He is. He told me so himself. Said he can barely look at her without remembering what she did to Ashton.”
The table erupted in murmurs of agreement.
“Poor Christian,” one woman sighed. “Trapped with that… thing.”
Ashley leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “He needs someone who actually takes care of herself. Someone elegant. Someone who knows how to be a real wife. A real mother.”
Victoria raised her glass toward Ashley. “Like you, darling. You’re perfect for him. Always have been.”
The women nodded, smiling.
Melody stood frozen, tray trembling, tears burning behind her eyes.
One of the guests, older, dripping in pearls, looked her up and down slowly.
“You know, I remember when Ashton was alive,” she said. “He was so charming. So full of life. And then this… creature broke him. Drove him to despair. To death.”
Another woman clucked her tongue. “She should be in prison. Not here, playing servant like she has any right.”
Ashley reached out and plucked a bread roll from Melody’s tray, deliberately letting her fingers brush Melody’s hand in a mocking caress.
“Careful,” Ashley said sweetly. “Don’t drop anything. We wouldn’t want to make more work for you. Though honestly… it’s the only thing you’re good for now.”
The table laughed again, sharp, cruel and delighted.
Melody’s vision blurred. The tray wobbled violently.
Victoria’s voice cut through the noise, cold and final.
“Put the tray down, Melody. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Melody set it on the sideboard, hands shaking so badly the glasses rattled. She turned to leave.
“Oh no,” Ashley called. “Not yet. We’re not finished.”
Melody stopped.
Ashley stood, walked over slowly, heels clicking.
She reached out and tucked a loose strand of Melody’s hair behind her ear, gentle, almost tender, then leaned in so only Melody could hear.
“Christian’s going to divorce you the second he gets back,” she whispered. “And when he does? I’ll be the one raising your daughter. She’ll call me Mommy. She’ll forget your name. And you’ll be nothing. Just a sad little footnote in the Holt family story.”
She stepped back, smiling brightly for the guests.
“Run along now,” she said loudly. “We don’t need you anymore.”
The women laughed again.
Melody turned.
She walked out of the room, slow, head high despite the tears streaming down her face until she reached the hallway.
Then she broke.
She slid down the wall, knees to her chest, silent sobs shaking her whole body.
The laughter from the dining room followed her.
Brutal.
Endless.
And perfectly clear.
She was nothing to them.
And they wanted to make sure she never forgot it.
×××××××