27
POV: Morticia
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The days after the kiss with Jake had been slow, dragging as if time itself were mocking me. Every morning I got out of bed feeling constricted in my chest, and every night I would be disturbed while trying to sleep and felt empty. The wedding down the hall blurred the line between marriage and disaster, leaving an indelible mark on the rest of my life. No matter how I hoped for things to be different, the responsibility of the day still belonged to me.
Jacob and I barely crossed paths anymore. Even though we had little to correspond on, the air now formed a palpable cell, not strange at all. I knew where he was, of course—with Brianna, my own sister.
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I sat in the small lounge, absentmindedly staring at the embroidery in my lap. With the many windows allowing sunlight to flood in, a soft glow illuminated the carpet. It should have been a calming scene, but my thoughts were anything but calm.
Morticia," Brianna's voice cut me out of my trance.
I turned the corner and saw her in the doorway, blonde hair ironed, a grin on her pale lips, but her eyes lifeless.
“Brianna,” I greeted, my tone neutral. I did not feel like dealing with her at the moment but it was impossible to escape her.
She entered, unyielding, and sat down in the chair that she usually occupied on the other side. “I wanted to talk to you about the wedding.”
My stomach twisted. “What about it?”
Her smile widened, but it felt forced. “You don’t seem... excited. This is a big moment, Morticia. You’ll be Luna. You’ll have everything.”
I set the embroidery down and looked at her. “Everything except love.”
Her expression momentarily dropped then she recovered. “Love isn’t always necessary, you know. Power, status — those are the things that matter. You’ll see that soon enough.”
Her words made my skin crawl. “Chasing that?” I said with a voice I shouldn't have used. “Power? Status? Is that why you’re sneaking around with Jacob?”
Brianna’s eyes narrowed. “Watch what you say, sister.”
“Why? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
She leaned forward, her smile gone. “Jacob and I... It’s none of your business. If you are not satisfied with the setup, perhaps you should bring it up with Father. Oh wait, you wouldn’t dare, would you?”
Her words stung, but I refused to let her see it. I rose and dusted imaginary particles off my costume. “I’m tired of this conversation, Brianna. Excuse me; I have more important things to do.”
I didn’t wait for her response. I got up and walked out of the room, followed the exit door and a tumult of agitations and stormy emotions took hold in my chest.
★
The drawing room had always been my sanctuary. It was silent, confined to the boundaries of the remaining part of the structure, by a large area of glass as its face allowing the soft, fading light of twilight to flood over the entire space. Painting and parchment floated, and, for the second time, all else just dissolved away for the pleasure of a second.
I lay down in front of the canvas with a brush in hand on an empty spot. Typically, in that environment, my ideas would naturally spill onto the page like hues and solids; but today, my mind was cluttered.
Jake’s face kept appearing in my thoughts. The sensation of his eyes watching me, the caress of sound upon me, and the cozy warmth of his envelopment hugging me in his arms.
And yet, I hadn’t seen him in days.
I plunged the brush in a colour close to blue of the heavens, close to an evening hour of the day. Subtly, discreetly and when convenient I began to paint the canvas, and my hand pushed the painting further. They began to take shape, converging on each other in a vortex of feeling that words alone could not express.
Why was he avoiding me?
The "question" stayed on my mind day after day, more and more. At first, I thought it was just coincidence. He was busy, after all. He had duties as the palace’s head guard. Maybe it was, or it might have been, due to my previous conviction that as long as I believed that he was the leader of the Blood Moon pack, that he was indeed the Alpha.
But now? Now it felt intentional.
I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter. That I shouldn’t care. But the ache in my chest told me otherwise.
The sluggish painting did the trick, a ghostly silhouette of one person at the edge gazing out to the water. The waves were roiling and wild beneath, but the actor stood frozen, almost as if they were waiting to be summoned. Or someone.
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I let the brush fall onto the floor and I moved away then I focused on the canvas. It was raw, immature, but vicariously it served as a gnat of my own very essence impressed on a plate and hanging on the wall like a photograph.
I perched on the stool at its far edge by the window, hands clutched tight in my lap. My thoughts drifted back to the kiss. The way Jake had looked at me, as if I were the only person in the world. That of his lips against mine, tentative, yet ardent.
And then the way he had stopped.
Had it meant nothing to him?
The thought made my chest tighten. I shook my head, trying to push it away. It wasn’t fair to think that. Jake was a good man, a man of honor. Maybe that was why he was avoiding me.
I knew he was doing the right thing.
But it hurt.
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The afterlight had started to dissipate, casting the room in a comforting golden light. I stood by the window and watched the sky transition into the colors of orange and pink.
Soft knock at the door took me out of my daydreams.
“Come in,” I called, my voice quieter than usual.
A maid walked in with both hands straight ahead. “Please be informed that Lady Morticia is available for service at the main stage restaurant.”
I nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be there shortly.”
She curtsied and left, leaving me alone once more.
I recalled the sheet of canvas and the one person going to the beach. It felt unfinished, much like everything else in my life right now.
I took a tentative breath and smoothed the fronts of the dress, then I came to the doors of the dining hall.
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Dinner
The food noise and the street murmur in the corridor. However, I subjectively experienced the feeling of being a ghost wandering around in the room without being perceived.
Jacob was, in contrast, across the table, etc. He chuckled at something Brianna had uttered, and his hand was lightly stroking hers, unnoticeably but i did notice. It pulled all of my insides out, churning my gut, but I willfully kept my eyes off it.
However, I tried to eat from my plate and barely tasted the fare I am shoving about with my fork.
“Morticia,” someone said, pulling me from my thoughts.
I saw one of the upper echelon of women in the mob, her attentiveness narrowed down to me.
“You seem distracted, dear,” she said gently. “Is everything alright?”
I grinned at her with an unsatisfyingly uncertain grin, which failed to connect with my gaze. “Just tired, that’s all.”
She nodded, thankfully not pressing further.
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Back in my chambers, I sat by the window, staring out at the darkened garden below. Stars were faint and hidden by low mass cloud.
I thought of Jake again. Of his absence. As for how he'd bailed me out of the current at the scariest of moments, even for those fleeting seconds.
The weight of it all fell upon my back and, for the first time in forever, I knew what it truly meant to be truly alone.
When evening came—I made up my mind: I would not make a sound—I would find him—and make him talk—even if it was last thing.
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