Rain tapped against the balcony glass like a restless memory, soft yet persistent. Seraphina stood alone in the suite, arms crossed tightly against her chest, her gaze locked on the gray sea that stretched beyond the horizon. The storm outside mirrored the one brewing inside her. Ever since the gala, whispers hadn't stopped—not from the guests, not from her own heart.
The pendant she found—the one that mysteriously matched her mother's locket—now sat on the nightstand, gleaming faintly in the dull light. She hadn't told Alaric. Not yet. How could she, when every moment between them teetered between truth and carefully crafted silence?
The door creaked behind her.
"I figured I'd find you here," came Alaric's voice, low and cautious.
She didn't turn. "It's the only place where I can think."
He stepped closer, the subtle scent of his cologne mingling with the salt in the air. "Is that what you need? Space to think?"
"No," she said, finally turning to face him. "I need answers. And I think you have them."
Alaric stilled. The calm mask he often wore cracked slightly, revealing the unease beneath. "About what?"
Seraphina walked over to the nightstand, picked up the pendant, and held it out. "This. You knew something at the gala. You recognized it, didn't you?"
He looked at the object, and for a moment, silence hung thick between them. Then he took a breath and nodded.
"It belonged to my mother," he said quietly. "But I never understood why she kept it hidden."
Seraphina's heart skipped. "Your mother? But… this was part of a set. My mother had the other half."
They stared at each other, the weight of their mothers' past drawing invisible lines around them.
"I found letters," Seraphina added, her voice trembling. "Hidden in my father's study. Letters from a woman named Evelyne. That was your mother's name, wasn't it?"
Alaric's jaw tightened. "Yes."
Seraphina's grip on the pendant faltered. "She loved my father."
Alaric looked away. "I think she did. And I think… my father knew."
The truth settled like dust, impossible to ignore.
"How long have you known?" she asked.
"Not long. Just days before the gala. I saw the locket in your hand and everything began clicking into place. The timelines. The absences. The whispers I dismissed as gossip when I was a boy." He looked at her then, eyes dark with something between sorrow and determination. "I didn't tell you because I wasn't sure how you'd take it."
Her voice cracked. "You should've told me anyway."
"I know."
The storm outside intensified, thunder rumbling like an echo of their conversation. Seraphina stepped back, her mind racing. Two mothers, one love. A history that bound them long before either of them had a choice.
"What does it mean for us?" she asked, almost whispering.
Alaric walked to her, slowly. "It means we carry their mistakes. But we don't have to repeat them."
She looked up at him. "Don't we? You're engaged to a woman you don't love. I'm the daughter of the woman your mother couldn't be with in public. How is that not history repeating itself?"
"Because I'm not going to marry Celeste."
Seraphina's breath hitched. "What?"
"I've called off the engagement."
The words hung in the air like lightning. Her eyes searched his for signs of uncertainty, but there were none. Only conviction.
"When?" she asked.
"Two nights ago. After the gala."
"But you didn't tell me—"
"Because I didn't want to burden you with more on top of everything else. You were already unraveling the past. I didn't want to push you."
"And yet here we are."
He reached out, brushing a strand of damp hair from her cheek. "I want to start over, Sera. With nothing between us but truth."
Her heart warred with her logic. "The truth is heavy."
"I'll carry it with you."
She wanted to believe him. So desperately. But years of hiding, pretending, and mistrust weren't easily washed away. And yet, when she looked into his eyes, she saw not just a man shaped by legacy, but one trying to break free from it.
"We'll need to find out what really happened between them," she said finally. "Between your mother and my father. There are still missing pieces."
He nodded. "Then we'll find them. Together."
A knock interrupted them. They both turned as the door slowly opened, revealing a hotel staff member holding a sealed envelope.
"For Ms. Langston," the woman said politely.
Seraphina took it, thanked her, and closed the door again.
The envelope was old, the paper yellowed at the edges. Her name was written on the front in familiar handwriting.
She sank onto the couch and opened it.
Inside was a single letter.
My dearest Sera,
If you are reading this, then perhaps the truth has already begun to find you. I kept many secrets—not out of malice, but protection. There were things your father and I never wanted to touch your world. But as time has shown, blood always finds a way to trace its own. I knew Evelyne. I knew her love. And I knew it was doomed.
But you—your story is still being written. Do not let the shadows of my past guide your light.
Love always,
Mother.
Seraphina pressed her fingers to the paper, her throat tight. It was a voice from beyond, urging her to move forward, not backward. To live, not to linger.
She looked up at Alaric, tears brimming in her eyes.
"Then we begin with the truth," she said.
He nodded solemnly. "And end with freedom."
They sat in silence for a long moment, the storm still raging outside—but inside, something had begun to calm. A reckoning, yes. But also, the faintest beginnings of healing.
Tomorrow would bring more questions. But tonight, Seraphina clutched the pendant—and Alaric's hand—as if grounding herself in both the past and the present.
And maybe, just maybe, the future too.