Chapter 13 A rigid stillness
Hannah
I froze where I stood, the remnants of my earlier smile still clinging awkwardly to my face.
“I… I’m sorry,” I said quickly, the words tumbling over themselves. “I didn’t realize… I’ll just say goodnight.”
I gestured vaguely toward the hallway, already taking a step back, desperate to disappear before I somehow made things worse simply by existing.
“Hannah.”
Yvonne’s voice cut through the room, smooth and commanding.
“You can wash your hands and join us for dinner.”
I looked at her, unsure I’d heard correctly.
All of them were watching me now. Timothy’s father with mild impatience. Yvonne with sharp interest. Timothy with a rigid stillness that made my stomach knot. Their eyes flicked, not subtly, to my clothes, my sleeves smudged, my shoes dusty, a faint smear of something dark near the hem of my top.
Disdain sat openly on their faces.
“Oh, that’s really not necessary,” I said softly. “I’ve already eaten.”
“Nonsense,” Yvonne replied, smiling without warmth. “You’re family now. It would look strange if you didn’t join us.”
It would look strange.
Not you’re welcome. No please. Just optics.
I nodded, because nodding was easier than arguing, and slipped away to wash my hands. I scrubbed a little too hard, watching the water turn faintly gray as the shelter clung stubbornly to my skin. I changed nothing else. I didn’t have the time or the courage.
When I returned, a chair had been pulled out for me.
Timothy didn’t look at me.
I sat.
Dinner was placed before me by a staff member who avoided my eyes. The silence that followed was thick, pressing in on my ears until I could hear my own heartbeat.
I picked up my fork.
Yvonne, thankfully, seemed incapable of tolerating silence for long.
“So,” she said brightly, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “Loretta was invited to a charity gala last night. Did you know that?”
My hand faltered.
“No,” I said carefully.
“She looked stunning,” Yvonne continued. “As always. Cameras adore her. Some people just have that… quality.”
Her eyes flicked to me meaningfully.
I swallowed and took a small bite of food that suddenly tasted like cardboard.
“She’s always been very accomplished,” I said, keeping my voice even.
“Oh yes,” Yvonne agreed. “And so gracious. Not like some people who stumble into places they don’t belong.”
A small, polite laugh followed her words.
Timothy remained silent, cutting his food with precise movements, jaw tight. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t look at her.
It hurt more than if he had.
Yvonne kept going, her chatter flowing effortlessly, each sentence laced with something sharp.
“You know,” she said, leaning back slightly, “I always thought Timothy would marry someone more… suited to his world. Someone who understands appearances.”
Her gaze slid over me again.
I forced a smile. My cheeks were starting to ache from how long I’d been holding it there.
“I’m still learning,” I said quietly.
“Oh, we can tell.”
The table laughed softly. Not kindly.
I focused on chewing. On swallowing. On not letting my hands shake.
At some point, Yvonne turned the conversation back to Loretta, her book signings, her interviews, the way her name still carried weight despite the scandal.
“She’s handling everything with such dignity,” Yvonne said. “Poor girl. Losing so much because of one careless mistake.”
Her eyes locked onto mine.
I felt something sink deep in my chest.
“I never meant to hurt her,” I said before I could stop myself. “I’d never…”
Timothy’s cutlery clattered loudly in his place and my mouth snapped shut immediately.
That was all.
No defense. No acknowledgment. Just movement, like my voice, had irritated him.
I fell silent again.
By the time I set my fork down, I felt hollowed out. Exhausted. Small.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I said softly, pushing my chair back. “I’m quite full already. I think I should turn in for the night.”
Yvonne smiled. “Of course.”
I stood.
And then…
“Oh dear.”
The word was light, almost playful.
Something warm splashed against my dress.
I gasped, looking down as sauce spread across the fabric, dripping onto the floor.
“I’m so clumsy,” Yvonne said, not sounding sorry at all.
“I…it’s fine,” I said quickly, panic rising. “I’ll just…”
The staff rushed forward with napkins, but Yvonne waved them away.
“Oh no, no,” she said. “Hannah can handle it. After all, it’s her mess.”
The room tilted.
“I don’t mind,” I whispered, my throat tight.
I lowered myself to my knees, hands trembling as I tried to wipe the spill from the marble floor, my vision blurring. I kept my head down, biting the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t…
“That’s enough.”
Timothy’s voice cracked like a whip.
Everything stopped. I looked up instinctively.
He was still seates, but his voice was loud and commanding, disgust etched across his face.
“This is pathetic,” he snapped, eyes burning into me. “Go clean yourself up. You look like a mess.”
The words hit harder than any of Yvonne’s barbs.
“Yes,” Yvonne murmured softly behind me, satisfaction barely hidden. “Do go.”
I scrambled to my feet, my hands slick, my chest aching.
“I’m sorry,” I breathed, though I didn’t know who it was for.
I fled the dining room, the sound of my own heartbeat roaring in my ears. I didn’t stop until I reached my room, shutting the door behind me like it could keep the world out.
The shower water was scalding.
I welcomed it.
I slid down the wall, curling into myself on the tiled floor as the sobs finally broke free, wracking my body in violent waves.