The morning light slid through the thin curtains, spilling a pale gold over the room. Selene stirred, her lashes fluttering as the soft brightness touched her face. For a moment, she thought she was dreaming. The air felt too still, too calm, as if last night had been nothing but a bad nightmare her mind had invented to torment her.
Her throat ached. Her head throbbed in rhythm with her heartbeat. When she tried to sit up, her muscles tensed, a sharp sting spreading across her back. She froze. The pain was real. It was not a dream. Her hands trembled slightly as she brushed her hair away from her damp forehead.
The room smelled faintly of alcohol and lavender lotion. Her clothes from yesterday were scattered across the floor, her shoes kicked near the door. She had toasted the entire night, trying to wash the taste of her mother's cruelty out of her mouth. But pain does not drown. It only waits beneath the surface, patient, silent.
She pushed herself to the edge of the bed. Every movement sent another reminder of what had been done to her. Her back felt raw. The memory of the lash still lived in her skin, though she tried not to remember it. She whispered a small breath of disbelief.
It was Saturday. A weekend. She did not have to face anyone at school today.
Elena had invited her over the day before, saying they could hang out, maybe study together. Selene had ignored the message at first. But now the thought of staying here, alone in her small dorm room, felt unbearable. Maybe seeing Elena would distract her. Maybe pretending everything was fine would make it hurt less.
She washed her face quickly, applied a touch of concealer under her eyes, and tied her hair in a loose ponytail. When she looked in the mirror, she did not see herself. She saw someone drained of color, someone holding herself together by thin threads of habit.
Before leaving, she caught sight of Marcus's jacket the same one she had worn the night before. She took another jacket hesitating, then pulled it on carefully. The soft lining pressed against the bandaged cuts beneath her shirt. She inhaled through her teeth and closed her eyes until the pain dulled enough to move.
The air outside was warm and quiet. The world seemed to continue as if nothing had happened, as if it had not seen her breaking apart in her parents' mansion.
By the time she reached Elena's neighborhood, her steps had steadied. The house stood behind a line of bright bougainvillea, the morning sunlight brushing across its white walls. She rang the bell, and within moments Elena opened the door, her smile lighting up her face.
"Selene," she said, her voice full of relief. "I was starting to think you had vanished."
Selene tried to smile, but it faltered. "Sorry. I wasn't feeling well."
Elena stepped aside to let her in. The house was neat and elegant, the scent of freshly baked bread drifting from the kitchen. The faint sound of a piano playing from the living room added warmth to the air.
"You look pale," Elena said softly. "Did you sleep at all?"
Selene shrugged. "A little."
Elena did not press further. She handed her a pile of neatly arranged notes. "These are from the classes you missed. I highlighted the parts the professor emphasized. You're lucky I'm such a good friend."
Selene managed a weak laugh. "You're the best."
They walked toward the living room. Elena talked about her assignments, about how her mother was insisting she eat breakfast with her, about how her cat had nearly scratched her that morning. Selene listened quietly, nodding when needed, but her mind was far away.
Her back burned beneath her clothes. Every step was a quiet reminder.
After a while, Elena stood. "Come on. Let's go upstairs. I can show you the new art project I've been working on."
Selene followed her up the stairs, grateful for something—anything—to fill the silence. Elena walked ahead, her long hair bouncing lightly. She reached out at one point, placing a hand on Selene's back to guide her toward the right hallway.
The contact was gentle. But Selene recoiled instantly.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she stepped aside sharply, almost losing her balance. Her heart raced. The memory of lash flashed behind her eyes.
Elena froze. "Hey, are you okay?"
Selene forced a smile, her voice trembling slightly. "Yeah. Just a little sore. I slipped yesterday."
Elena looked at her for a long moment, uncertainty shadowing her face. She wanted to ask more, but something in Selene's eyes told her not to. So she nodded slowly and led her upstairs without another word.
From the ground floor, someone had seen everything.
Celestine was standing near the wide arch leading from the dining room to the hallway, a glass of water in her hand. She had been quietly watching them since the moment Selene arrived.
At first, she thought it was ordinary two young women catching up, laughing softly, moving with that easy rhythm of friendship. But when Selene flinched away from her daughter's touch, Celestine's hand tightened around the glass until her knuckles paled.
There was no mistaking the reaction. It had been instinctive, a reflex born of fear and pain.
She had seen that look before—in women who came to her company pretending everything was fine while their eyes betrayed something deeper. But this time it was different. It was Selene.
Her daughter had come home yesterday worried, saying Selene had disappeared from her dorm, her car still parked outside, her phone switched off. Celestine had brushed it off, assuming the girl needed space. But now she felt something heavy settle inside her chest.
As the girls disappeared upstairs, Celestine placed the glass down quietly. She turned her gaze toward the staircase, her mind already spiraling through possibilities.
Where had Selene been? What had happened to her?
And why did her heart ache in a way she could not explain?
She walked toward the kitchen, trying to focus on something else, anything else. The staff moved quietly around her, preparing lunch. But her mind kept replaying the way Selene had pulled back, the flicker of pain that had crossed her face.
Celestine stood still for a long time, her eyes lost in the reflection of the polished marble counter. Then she whispered under her breath, almost to herself.
"I will find out what happened to you."
The promise was soft, but it carried the weight of something dangerous—something protective, something deeper than she wanted to admit.
And above her, in the quiet of Elena's room, Selene sat on the edge of the bed, smiling faintly at something Elena said. But inside her, the ache only grew heavier.
It was not the pain on her back that hurt the most.It was the thought of someone having seen it.
.......
The kitchen was quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the soft drip of the coffee machine. Morning light streamed through the large window, settling over the polished counter where Celestine sat with her coffee untouched. The newspaper lay open before her, but her eyes hadn't moved across a single line.
She had been staring at the same sentence for almost ten minutes, thinking instead of the way Selene had flinched earlier when Elena had touched her back. It hadn't been obvious. Just a subtle recoil, a barely-there stiffness that most people would have missed. But Celestine had noticed. She noticed everything about that girl lately, and she hated that she did.
Her fingers traced the rim of her cup absently. The reflection that looked back at her in the dark surface seemed unfamiliar—colder, distant. She wasn't used to caring this much about anyone who wasn't family.
The sound of heels clicking against the marble floor pulled her back. Lily walked in, scrolling through her phone, her perfume drifting ahead of her like the soft scent of jasmine.
"You're burning holes into that paper," Lily said lightly, sliding onto the stool beside her. "What did it do to you?"
Celestine gave a faint exhale, setting the newspaper aside. "Nothing."
Lily leaned forward with a teasing smirk. "Nothing, yet you've been staring at it for a century."
Celestine didn't respond, only took a sip of her coffee. It was cold.
Lily's tone softened. "Still thinking about her?"
Celestine gave a look that almost warned her to stop, but Lily's grin didn't waver.
"She flinched when Elena touched her, didn't she?" Lily continued quietly. "I saw it too. You're not imagining things."
Celestine turned slightly, her voice low. "It wasn't just a flinch. It was… fear."
Lily's brow arched. "Fear? Of Elena?"
Celestine shook her head. "No. Of pain. Like she's used to hiding it."
The words hung heavy between them. Lily tilted her head, studying Celestine. "You sound like you know what that looks like."
Celestine said nothing. Her jaw tightened, her gaze fixed somewhere distant.
Lily sighed softly and reached for an apple from the fruit bowl. "You're doing that thing again and then pretending you don't care."
Celestine gave a faint, humorless smile. "Maybe I don't."
Lily took a bite, chewing slowly. "Maybe you do, and you just hate that you can't stop."
Celestine looked down at her cup again. The silence grew until it was only broken by the faint creak of the stairs.
Lily straightened slightly. "They're coming."
From the hallway, faint voices floated down—the soft melody of Elena's chatter and the quieter tone of Selene's replies.
Selene followed behind Elena, her steps slow, careful. She wished it were only Elena at home. That would have made things easier. The redhead she had seen that day ,she learned from Elena that she was her mother's friend. Though that fact should have comforted her, it only made her more aware of her own fragility. She wasn't ready to meet someone who could see through her so easily.
But fate had other plans.
When she reached the kitchen doorway, the light from outside caught her face. From where Celestine sat, the faint outline of a bruise peeked from beneath the edge of Selene's hair. It was faint, almost hidden, but unmistakable to eyes that knew how to look. Lily noticed too, her expression losing its usual playfulness.
Elena's voice broke the silence. "Mom, Lily, I was thinking we could have lunch together. Selene's joining us."
Selene froze for a second, her polite smile faltering. Her stomach twisted at the thought of food. The bruises along her ribs ached even at the thought of sitting too long. She wanted to refuse, to make an excuse about needing to leave, but Elena's eager face made it impossible.
"That sounds lovely," Celestine said smoothly, standing up. Her voice was calm, but her gaze lingered on Selene's stiff posture.
Lily added lightly, "We were just wondering when you'd come down."
Selene managed a small smile. "Sorry, we took long."
"It's fine, sweetheart," Celestine replied, her tone almost too gentle.
They sat around the kitchen island. The table was neatly set, sunlight glinting off the silverware. Elena chatted about class notes, about the new professor's quirks, about things that would normally make Selene laugh. But today, her laughter was quieter, hollow.
When Celestine reached for the salad bowl to pass it to her, Selene's fingers trembled slightly. She quickly took only a small spoonful, pushing it around her plate rather than eating.
Elena frowned. "You're not eating."
Selene forced a smile. "I had something earlier."
Lily glanced at her plate, then at Celestine. Both women could see the truth—Selene's appetite wasn't gone because she was full. It was gone because every breath she took hurt.
Celestine folded her hands on the counter. Her eyes lingered on Selene's profile. There was a gentleness there that felt misplaced against the pain hiding beneath her skin. She wondered what kind of person could hurt someone like her.
Elena excused herself to fetch dessert from the refrigerator. When she was gone, the silence deepened.
Lily leaned close and whispered, "She's barely eating."
Celestine nodded once. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were sharp. "She's in pain."
"Should we ask?" Lily murmured.
"Not yet."
When Elena returned, Selene straightened quickly, schooling her features back into calm. She tried to laugh again when Elena mentioned an old class prank, but the movement pulled something in her back, and her breath hitched.
It was a quiet sound, but Celestine heard it. Her hand tightened around her cup.
From their angle, the sunlight fell across Selene's cheek just right to reveal another faint mark—a bruise that had not been there before. Lily's smile faded completely.
After a while, Selene excused herself, saying she needed some air. She stood slowly, careful not to make it obvious how much it hurt to move. Elena followed her out, chatting casually, unaware of the storm brewing behind her mother's calm eyes.
The moment the door closed, the silence in the kitchen was heavy enough to choke on.
Lily turned toward Celestine. "You're thinking what I'm thinking."
Celestine's expression was unreadable, but her voice was firm. "Someone did this to her."
Lily folded her arms. "And you're going to find out."
Celestine didn't reply. She just looked toward the window, where Selene's figure was faintly visible outside under the soft light.
Lily leaned on the counter, her tone gentler now. "You're worried."
Celestine's gaze softened for a fraction. "Yes."
The admission came out quieter than she intended, but it felt heavier than anything else she could have said.
Outside, Selene sat by Elena's car, her head lowered, her fingers trembling as she tried to compose herself. Inside, Celestine's reflection lingered in the glass, watching her.
Neither of them spoke. But something in the silence shifted—a fragile thread forming between pain and understanding.
And though neither of them realized it yet, this quiet moment would be the beginning of everything that would later unravel.