Fragile Things

65 | Perfect

sixty-five • perfect

The hall buzzes with pristine glamour. There are people everywhere, chatting, laughing, and clinking their glasses under the ceiling fitted with several bright mini chandeliers. An orchestra on one end of the room plays all the hit classical pieces from the eighteenth century. The music infiltrates corners of the room, being ignored by some and being discussed by others.

I haven't felt more out of place anywhere as I do here. Dressed in an off-shoulder pink dress that Mom imported from Paris just for me, I couldn't be more uncomfortable. The more people I see walk in with their invitation, the more agitated I feel. My feet thump over the floor as I keep my fake smile on, nodding at guests who I recognize and even at the ones I don't.

My parents have been throwing this New Year's Party for twenty years now. They only ever missed a year back when the suit between Tyler and me was still ongoing. Otherwise, this is a family tradition. Dad has clarified to Cal on certain occasions that after him, Cal must carry on the tradition.

I spot my Mom at the entrance of the hall, greeting guests. She is dressed in a royal green wrap dress, her hair styled in a French braid. Her dusky skin shines under the chandelier lights, the diamonds in her ears sparkling.

She looks like she was born to be Brandon Ryan's wife. I can't even begin to narrate how much she tried to instill the same values in me growing up but failed miserably. I have always hated playing the hostess to anything, even when I was little and used to play family games with my brother.

Behind her, I see Dad talking to one of his business friends — Carlisle Ivanovitch, I think his name is. He was never a man I liked to be alone with. He studies everything with a blank stare within ten meters of his radius. Creepy guy.

My father laughs at something he says and then takes a sip of his champagne.

There is no one I am looking forward to meeting tonight more than Simon's parents. I want to pay my respects to them since their only son couldn't be here. He had visited them a year ago but after Tina, the relationship between him and his parents turned sour. I am hoping to be a consolation.

Other than them, the only other person I am waiting to see eagerly is Damien. Cal skirted him off to dress him up for the evening and they both have been out of sight since. I am excited to see Damien wearing a suit for the first time. He has to wear one; it's the custom outfit for the party.

Over the last few days, he and I haven't been on speaking terms. After the night on the balcony, I had mostly avoided him while his bond with Cal grew until it started to irk me. My brother has found his latest project in him and now wants to play dress-up and behavior teacher in exchange for Damien repairing an old car of our late grandfather which he promised he would.

Disinterestedly, I pick up a drink as a waiter swerves past me with his tray. Taking a sip, my lips pressing on the edge of the glass, I walk among the crowd, observing the pairs of eyes that have their attention on me. Most of these people are surprised to see me back after this long. They are judging me without being obvious.

The rumors from four years back are still there, buzzing around about the slut who is yours truly. I don't mind this time though.

These people can go choke on a dick for all I care.

Someone bumps into my arm on their way. I turn, recognizing the sight of a familiar face. Brown hair, round face with a cutely oblivious aura about him — Charlie Higgins, the son of one of Dad's business partners.

"Oh...sorry," the guy says, then blinks, blue eyes dawning with recognition. "Gods...is it really you, Daria?"

Charlie's lips curve to a broad smile. I smile too, recalling the time when we both used to study at the same university here. He was one of many people who believed in my story, not Tyler's. I have a soft spot for this guy.