Chapter 22
Marigold finished cleaning up the shop, her movements slow and deliberate now that the immediate, frantic need to scrub Ellie’s presence away had passed.
She sank down onto the stool behind the counter, the exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours replaced by a tense, electric wakefulness.
The day’s revelations—Lucian’s raw, devastating apology and Ellie’s calculating confession—swirled through her mind like a poisonous cloud.
She was adrift in a sea of paradoxes. She wanted to hate Lucian for the ten years of anguish he’d inflicted, but the relief of finally being believed made forgiveness feel agonizingly close.
The thought that he had been manipulated also crossed her mind before she remembered all she had been through.
Yet, the betrayal by Ellie was a crippling wound.
Goldie remembered Ellie’s arms around her, holding her tightly as she cried and swore, “You would never put a spell on someone like that”.
Goldie remembered Ellie insisting Lucian wasn’t worth crying over.
Telling her she deserved better. Sitting beside her after every encounter with Lucian...
All while knowing she’d engineered every heartbreaking moment.
Ellie had been a constant, spending every holiday with her, even when Goldie had to pay for her flight home.
When Ellie called, crying after losing her job, Goldie had flown down immediately, helped her move back, found her a place to rent, and given her a job at Enchantresso.
It had been a decade of unwavering devotion, all to discover that Ellie was out to get her from the start, coveting her life and her love.
Goldie could almost hear the sound of her heart breaking anew as old, cherished memories replayed in her mind, each one now tainted by a decade of malice.
Ellie, her bestie, a person she always thought was securely in her corner, had orchestrated her ruin while she whispered all her secrets in Ellie’s ears.
Had any of it been real?
The movie nights curled up beneath blankets. The birthdays. The holidays. During the nights, Ellie had cried on her shoulder following the end of a bad relationship. When she had told Ellie about the few times she had gone on a date, seen a red flag, and run before she could end up hurt.
Goldie couldn’t tell where the friendship ended, and the performance began.
For ten years she’d wondered what she’d done wrong.
Whether she’d been too clingy and he had made it all up.
Too emotional. Too hopeful. Or looking at herself and just seeing flaws that would make him believe the lies that someone told about her.
She’d spent a decade apologizing for a crime she’d never committed.
No longer tired, but painfully, furiously awake, Goldie pushed up from the stool.
She moved to the back station and began to brew herself a drink.
Beyond comfort, she needed something else; she needed chaos.
She made herself a Wild Magic Mocha. It was a decadent dark chocolate mocha kissed with cinnamon and a spark of untamed magic, a brew known to boost courage, confidence...
or occasionally cause a little harmless chaos.
She took one long drink. Then another. By the third sip, the magic snapped through her like lightning.
The bulbs overhead sputtered, casting a glow that pulsed.
With each flicker, the room plunged into brief darkness, only to snap back into the dim, buzzing illumination.
A prickling chill swept over her skin as the fine hairs on her arms stood on end, crackling with unseen energy.
A fierce, almost reckless energy shot through her veins.
The shame, the sorrow, and the paralyzing heartbreak were instantly washed away, replaced by a reckless, unbridled confidence.
A small, dangerous smile curved her lips.
She wasn’t a victim; she was a witch, and she was done hiding.
Every sensible part of her whispered to go home. Lock the doors. Cry. Eat cookie dough straight from the tub.
Instead... Goldie grabbed her keys. As she drove, she could feel the spell truly hit her.
The world outside the windows was suddenly sharper, brighter, and demanding her attention.
She rolled the windows down, sticking one hand out to feel the cool night breeze drift through her fingers, laughing at the sheer, unadulterated sensation of freedom.
A song came on the radio, and she started singing along, her voice loud and unrestrained. “I’ll meet you for coffee ‘cause if we have wine…”
Her destination solidified: the annual Pumpkin Festival.
Tonight, she wasn’t looking for answers or forgiveness of any kind.
She certainly wasn’t looking for Lucian.
She wasn’t going to hide at home tonight; she was going to get lost in the crowd, find a way to escape her thoughts, and embrace whatever harmless chaos her mocha might conjure.
For ten years she’d mourned the loss of one person. Today she’d discovered she’d lost two, and she would not let that define her anymore.