The envelope was thick, the cardstock heavy, the script so ornate it felt more like a summons than an invitation.
A Garden Tea at the Lovewin Residence.
Luna ran his thumb over the gold leaf lettering, his mind already racing. A garden party meant movement. It meant guests, distractions, the chance for something to slip. A smear of lipstick across a cheek, a sudden splash of wine, a crumble of frosting—anything that might force Rachel to wipe her face and break that immovable mask.
He would see her. The real her.
By the time the morning of the party came, he was pacing the sidewalk in front of Luka's apartment. The building loomed, glass and steel catching the light in perfect angles, and he could already hear Luka's music faintly through the door before it swung open.
"There you are!" Luka's grin was immediate and warm, his eyes scanning Luna from head to toe. "God, I finally get to see you in a suit again—hold still, I need to—"
Luna brushed past him, distracted.
"Rude," Luka said lightly, but Luna was already wandering into the living room, his gaze fixed somewhere far away. He bit at his lower lip, the taste of impatience bitter on his tongue.
For the next ten minutes Luka tried to pull him into the normal rhythm—shirt options, cufflinks, which vest paired best with which tie. Luna answered absently, more noise than thought.
Finally Luka threw his hands up. "Alright, spill. You've been looking like you're plotting a coup since you walked in."
Luna hesitated, then turned toward him. "I want to see what Rachel really looks like."
Luka blinked. "That's… weirdly ominous."
"I mean it," Luna pressed. "What is she hiding behind that damn mask? I need to see her. Her."
"That's a breach of privacy," Luka said, his tone sharp in that way he got when he was trying to be the voice of reason.
"It's a necessity," Luna countered. "I'm supposed to marry her. And I—" He broke off, running a hand through his hair. "I need to know I'm not being catfished."
Luka's expression softened a fraction. "You're not. I've seen Rachel—she's as beautiful and poised as you'd expect from her voice, from how she carries herself."
Luna studied him. "Do Rachel and Ryan look similar?"
That gave Luka pause. "Yes," he admitted, "in that family resemblance kind of way. Why?"
Luna's voice lowered, conspiratorial. "Because I think Rachel is Ryan."
For a moment Luka just stared—then burst out laughing. "You're insane. That's not—"
But the laughter faltered as quickly as it came. His eyes narrowed, as though a thought had just lodged itself like a splinter in his brain.
"I mean…" Luka started slowly, "I've never actually seen them together."
They stood there in silence, the city's hum faint through the glass windows, the air between them suddenly charged with the unspoken question neither wanted to admit was now gnawing at them both.
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