The Glass Veil

Mirages of the Mind: Anna's Dilemma

Anna's POV

I walk into the breakfast room and smile at my mother, father, and Syrus, feeling a mix of amusement and disbelief at seeing the villain himself enjoying his strawberries as if he weren't blackmailing people in his quest for the crown. He looks so innocent, pretending to be a devoted family man who loves having breakfast with his brother and sister-in-law. I approach the table, offering another smile as I take my father's cup of coffee. "I'm sure you'll need this for your hangover," he remarks, unimpressed by my gesture.

"I am not hung over," I respond. "I saw you at the bar, you set me up," I accuse Syrus at the breakfast table, my words making my mother pause mid-bite, her eyes darting to mine.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Syrus replies, his tone calm as he takes a sip of his coffee. "I was at the cottage."

"You're lying," I shake my head, adamant. "I saw you watching me."

"I don't find your life that enthralling to watch, Anna. That's your security guards' job," he retorts with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"But you were there," I insist.

"Anna," my father cuts in, his voice firm, "He was at the cottage with me. I can confirm that."

"I know what I saw," I counter, feeling isolated in my certainty.

"You must be mistaken," my father suggests soothingly. "It's okay, it happens. You've been under a lot of stress, and we all see things that aren't there, especially after a few drinks."

Their dismissals are smooth, and calculated, and my discomfort grows with each word. They're wrong, I think, even as a sliver of doubt creeps in. Am I truly recalling what I saw, or is the stress finally getting to me? The certainty I felt wavers, but deep inside, the truth gnaws at me, persistent and unsettling.

I stare at the three of them, looking for answers that I won't find. "Mother?" I look towards her, unsure of why she hasn't said a word.

"I was also with them at the cottage," my mother confirms with soft eyes. "You did have a lot of tequila, honey."

I nod my head in defeat. Did the tequila deceive me? Surely not.

I walk out of the room and find myself in a secluded part of the palace, a space filled with paintings and art pieces that are covered with sheets. The room is large and dimly lit, with only a few overhead lights casting a soft glow on the covered artworks. The air is cool and carries a faint scent of dust and old canvas.

The darkness feels oppressive. I slide down the wall, resting my back against the wall as I hit the floor, my head in my hands. My mind is a battleground, and I am losing.

"Did I really see Syrus?" I mutter to myself, the words barely audible. The image of him at the bar is so clear, so vivid. I can still picture the way his eyes met mine. But now, doubt seeps in, insidious and cold.

Could it have been the tequila? I shake my head, trying to dispel the thought. I've had my share of moments, and alcohol has never played tricks on my mind like this before. But everyone else is so sure. They were all at the cottage. They all say I was too drunk to know what I saw. I swear he was there. He handed me a drink.

I get up and start pacing, the motion giving me a semblance of control.

The questions swirl, each one more damning than the last. "Am I really losing it?" I ask the room. My reflection in a gold mirror looks back at me, eyes haunted and tired. "Is this what it's come to? Seeing ghosts in bars and doubting my own sanity?"

Is this what is coming to? Talking to myself in a room trying to convince myself that I am sane... It' is only insane if I answer my own questions, right? Fuck, maybe I am losing my sanity like I am everything else.