Carved in Her Bones

Tomas

Gigi is cool.

Like, effortlessly cool.

And as if on cue, she glides out of the house in what can only be described as a dress made from the sun—it's so bright, I nearly have to squint.

"Boys!" she calls out warmly. "Welcome to my home. I'll have you know, you are the first of many boys I hope Rhian invites."

Damian immediately bursts into laughter. Of course he does.

Then, with all the charm of a man who has zero shame, he steps forward, introduces himself, and—
kisses Gigi's hand.

I want to die.

Rhian groans beside me.

Damian winks—at me, at Rhian, at life itself—which prompts her to say, "Damian, please don't be inappropriate with my grandma."

Without missing a beat, Gigi claps back, "Rhian, don't be like that. That's just rude, and I can speak for myself."

I bite back a laugh.

Damian? Smug as hell.

Rhian? Looking deeply betrayed by her own grandmother.

And Gigi?

Gigi is having the time of her life.

Rhian's house compared to Gigi's is like night and day.

Gigi's place is warm, loud, full of life.

This house? It's clean. Sterile. Beautiful in a detached, almost museum-like way—meant to be looked at but never lived in.

And Rhian?

She's different here.

Quieter. Smaller, even. Like she's shrinking into herself.

Joey, on the other hand, is the life of the party. It's her birthday, but somehow, she's almost invisible.

The conversation at the table revolves around three things: music, cancer, and Joey.
Joey's music.
Joey's cancer.
Rhian's love for Joey.

I watch her from across the table.

She smiles when expected, nods when required—but her presence is barely acknowledged. Like a shadow sitting between the real guests.

Then Ronan walks in with Gigi, who is visibly drunk.

Gigi immediately settles next to Rhian, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Happy birthday, love."

And just like that, Rhian relaxes—like someone finally switched on the lights in her.

She blushes, and it's the first time all night that she looks genuinely happy.

Then Ale, the family chef, enters with a three-tiered cake. He hugs her, whispers something in her ear, and she smiles again.

We sing.

The cake is cut.

And then—

Rhian disappears.

Joey ends up next to me, scrolling through his phone, showing me pictures of some guy named Blue—who he has apparently had "relations" with. His words, not mine.

He's with someone new now—a boy in the room, laughing with Damian and their dad about football.

I try to focus, but my mind keeps drifting.