Chapter 51

The echoes of merry chatter surrounded Donna like an ocean, the joyful sound drowned in her sorrow as she sat quietly at the edge of the grand ballroom: her father stood tall and proud, a crowd bunched up in tight clusters, raising glasses to toast the momentous occasion that had just taken place before them.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, I am delighted to announce my engagement to Miss Matilda Winterstroke," her father boomed, his voice ringing out so full of pride. Applause erupted, drowning the hollow ache that echoed deep in her.

Matilda—her best friend since childhood, the one person she confided in and turned to for comfort. Donna’s heart jostled wildly at the realization that the girl she had laughed with and confided in was stepping into the role of a stepmother, the woman who would soon share the life her father had so carefully curated.

She had turned her gaze away from the dizzying celebrations; her heart had fractured under the weight of betrayal. She felt time standing still while she was being pulled into a bittersweet storm of emotions. Tears brimmed over her eyes as she struggled to hold the pieces of her heart and reality together.

She got up, not really registering it, from the intricately carved chair she had let herself sink into, as every step fell heavily upon the polished floor as she sought a familiar face-Fin. He had been her rock during so many tumultuous moments, including now, when the fabric of her world was unraveling. She found him standing near the bar, a glass in hand, his brow furrowed in contemplation.

Fin," she breathed, the words a crackling whisper. There was a rumble in her chest, a longing that he understand her, that somehow his presence would anchor her in some semblance of sanity. She moved closer, and all bravery fled. "I thought you loved me."

He gave her an incredulous glance, swallowing, his eyes hunting her face where confusion seemed to be an open book on his features. "What are you talking about? When did I ever say that?

Last month," she stuttered, the memory welling up, constrained by anguish. "At your mother's party. You told me… it felt like an eternity. You said those words, Fin! You said them!"

She watched an array of emotions flicker across his face-abject disbelief, then dawning recognition. "Donna," he began, his voice low, "that wasn't me.

"Were you not there?" She could hardly raise her voice, knowing her emotional dam was close to a breakdown. "I thought we shared something real-that you cared."

"I said nothing of the kind," he persisted, with each word cinching tighter this heart of hers. Still, she swore she floated in mid-air after those times and believed he was feeling deeply, though maybe that seemed to be led more to the contrary.

“Everyone was so happy,” she whispered, struggling to keep her breathing even. “I thought you felt—”

“I thought you were daydreaming, too caught up in the moment,” he interjected, his brow creasing as he closed the space between them. “I told you the truth once before; I swear I’m not hiding anything.”

"Then what did that mean?" she demanded, her anguish breaking through the surface. "What do you feel? Because when we spoke, you held my gaze, you made me believe—"

Fin's face changed in an instant, a wave of seriousness washing over him. "Donna, I don't know what you want me to say. I never meant to make you feel this way. You mean the world to me, that won't change. But I've never loved you like that.

And then the finality of his words struck, and her heart cracked anew. In that instant, cold despair swept through her. "If you're not in love with me, then why am I even here?" Donna sobbed, choking back the tides of emotion. "Why am I even still standing in front of you?!

She wheeled sharply, her heart threatening to shatter completely, and she made for Matilda-her supposed confidante, the one person who had been by her side through everything, only to turn against her now. She spotted her across the room, laughter spilling from her lips as she exchanged joyous words with her father, basking in the limelight of an engagement they had collectively created.

"Matilda!" Donna's voice cut through the victorious atmosphere as she walked toward her, with a determination that was not really there. The quakes of betrayal steeled her, and she needed answers, clarity in the chaos. "I need to talk to you."

Matilda turned to her, surprise etched on her face. "Donna… what's wrong?"

"Did you… did you really think it was okay?" she stammered. "To take my father's heart in the way you did? To take—" She paused, her voice breaking again, an avalanche of vulnerability spilling forth. "To take my life?

"Wait, Donna!" Matilda protested, stepping closer, but Donna couldn't stand it anymore. Every friendly word had been a masquerade, cloaking the real meaning of their treachery. Every laugh they shared now sounded false, echoing in the void of her heartache.

In that moment, a shadow washed over her, the voice of self-doubt creeping in from the depths she thought she had managed to vanquish. “You’re such a disappointment,” it whispered in her mind, piercing through the room’s cacophony. “You’re unworthy of love.”

She shook her head fiercely, blinking against the tears. “No!” she shouted, defiance burning within her. “I’m not a bad person!”

Look at you," that voice sneered, creeping closer, cloaking her in its caustic clutches. "You think you can call out for love? Nothing but pathetic, a big girl acting grown, yet you waste your time. You mean nothing to anyone. You'll never be enough for any person.

The words invaded her mind, swelling with poisonous clarity to mingle with the heartbreak already seated in her chest. Crushed beneath the waves of bitterness, she gasped, as if the air around her had grown too thick to breathe.

"You are trash," the spiteful voice taunted, filleting through her heart and laying bare her worth. "You deserve all this pain."

"No!" Donna yelled again, shaking her head furiously. "I deserve better! I deserve… I deserve love!"

Those within earshot turned to her, their puzzled expressions only deepening her embarrassment. She was losing herself in this moment of public unraveling, where nothing made sense anymore, every familiar face twisting.

At the ceremony, standing and beaming, with a smile plastered on her face as she accepted kudos, was her one-time best friend, Matilda. The hurt from her betrayal was raw, festering, and now there for all to see.

She clenched her fists, unable to restrain the surge that swept through her. Matilda was standing with her father, laughing along with the crowd, basking in the shared joy. Donna pushed her way through the crowd, quickening her breath as a fire of recklessness began to burn inside her.

"Matilda!" she shouted, her voice carrying across the ballroom, cutting through the jubilant chatter. The room fell silent, eyes drawn to her fury.

What, Donna?" Matilda replied, her eyes widening in surprise, forgetting for a moment her role in the night's celebration.

Not paying any attention to the shocked faces, Donna continued, her anger brimming over. "What do you think you're doing, ruining everything?"

"Donna, calm down!" Matilda pleaded, taking half a step back, veiled alarm masking behind her veneer of calmness.

“You’re marrying my father,” Donna hissed, each word dripping with venom, her skin prickling with the urge to strike but held back by the grip of reality. “You think this is love?”

“None of this was planned; please, let’s talk about it—”

But Donna wasn't interested in conversation. She wanted revenge-to hit and unleash the reckoning that seethed inside her. Her fists clenched, resolving to remind Matilda of the betrayal she had wrought, to show her exactly how far betrayal could shove a person into darkness.

"Get away from him," she growled, inching closer, the glimmer of the chandelier above casting a wicked light upon her fury.

But before she could get to Matilda, the guards stepped forward, imposing, blocking her way. "Miss Donna," one of them spoke to her, firm and authoritative. "You should remain calm. This is not the place for a confrontation.

"Stay out of this!" she snapped, her vision bursting with anger. Yet the guards remained, standing firm and blocking any physical contact. Her fists yearned to rain down on Matilda, but she was restrained, the anger and hurt tightly wrapped around her heart.

Determined to find even a hint of release, she looked at Fin. He should know what was at stake, the storm brewing inside her.

"Fin, why can't you see?" she called out, sorrow creeping into her voice, desperation a thin veneer of control. "I need you. I thought we shared something deeper."

But he shook his head, turning to face her, resolve etched in his features. "Donna, you don't understand. I'm in love with Lilith."

The words cut into her like cold daggers, breaking the last pieces of hope she clung desperately to. Heat bloomed across her cheeks, and for a split second, she felt the earth beneath her shake, the world crumbling into pieces.

"Lilith?" The name was bitter on her lips as it escaped, every syllable laced with denial and anger. How could he choose her? How could he betray the friendship they had built?

Donna's chest constricted with each whispered conversation from the crowd around her, their words piercing her reality like shattered glass, harsh and relentless.

"Did you see her face?" one guest whispered. "She looks absolutely devastated."

"Unbelievable," another voice cruelly chimed in with a knowing laugh. "How can she let this happen?

Donna's heart ached, crumbling beneath their distasteful remarks. Even within the midst of celebration, their whispered words became the cacophony of mockery that tore through the walls she had tried to build up.

"She's lost everything," another sneered. "Now look at her."

With every word, uttered hushed and low, the feeling was that they chiseled away at her sanity, entombing her alive in her private torture. She was made out to be the villain in her life's story, the ghost of regret drowned by the bright rays of hope radiating from another person.

A wave of fury and humiliation washed over her like a tsunami, stealing her steady footing, magnifying that voice in her head, yelling at her that she was a failure. The words continued to

whisper to her, echoing in her head, as she stumbled backward, her gaze locked on Matilda and her father.