Lila leaned forward, her eyes glittering with curiosity. "Wait—do you know him? You sounded… surprised."
Aria forced her lips into something resembling a smile, though her fingers tightened imperceptibly around her teacup. "Yes. I do know him. We went to the same high school, actually. Later… he became my doctor for a while."
Lila's eyes widened, her expression immediately brightening. "That's amazing! What are the odds? Oh, Aria, this is perfect. We should all meet sometime—the three of us. It would be so fun."
The thought of sitting across from Elias, with Lila's hopeful gaze flicking between them, made something twist in Aria's stomach. Still, she nodded calmly. "He's a good man, Lila. Truly. Reliable, steady… the kind of person who remembers the details that matter."
Lila practically glowed. "That's exactly how he seemed. I knew I wasn't imagining it." She leaned closer, lowering her voice with conspiratorial excitement. "So tell me—what was he like in high school? Was he one of those quiet geniuses? Or the charming, popular type?"
Aria chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Neither, really. He was kind. That's what stood out most. The kind of person who would help you carry books without being asked. He hasn't changed much, from what I can tell."
Lila sighed dreamily, resting her chin on her palm. "Then I feel even luckier."
For a brief moment, warmth spread through Aria's chest. It wasn't jealousy, not anymore. It was relief—Elias was a good man, and if Lila's happiness lay with him, then there was nothing more to wish for.
Their drinks arrived, and for a few minutes, the conversation lulled into comfortable sips and the clink of cups against saucers. Then Lila, always curious, tilted her head. "But enough about me. Tell me about the gala. I was dying to know. How did everyone react when you walked in?"
Aria's lips curved into a wry smile. "Oh, you would've laughed. Their faces were priceless. Like they'd seen a ghost wrapped in scarlet silk."
Lila giggled, delighted by the imagery. "I wish I could've seen it."
"But of course," Aria continued, her voice dipping, "not everyone was simply surprised. Taylor made a point of cornering me."
Lila's smile faltered instantly. "Taylor." She spat the name like it soured her tongue. "What did she say?"
Aria mimicked the syrupy lilt of Taylor's voice, exaggerating each word. "Something about how red was a bold choice, how people might think I was hunting for a new husband. The usual poison wrapped in sweet paper."
Lila rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn't stick. "That woman lives for gossip. Honestly, I think she spends more time plotting other people's downfalls than living her own life. A vulture."
Aria's laughter was sharp, bitter. "If vultures wore diamonds, yes."
It was then Aria took a steadying breath, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. "Lila… there's something I've been thinking about. Something I haven't said aloud to anyone in a long time."
Lila's posture straightened, her gaze sharpening with interest. "Go on."
"I want to go back," Aria confessed quietly. "To skating. Not just as a hobby. Professionally."
The words hovered between them like fragile glass. Aria's chest tightened, as though afraid they might shatter if met with disbelief.
But Lila's reaction was immediate. Her eyes lit with fierce determination. "Aria, that's wonderful! You should absolutely do it."
"You don't understand." Aria's voice trembled slightly. "The injury—it was bad. I tore the ligaments in my ankle. The doctor said recovery would take time, and even then… I wasn't sure I'd ever compete again. That was over a year ago, and I've been too afraid to even try."
"Then we find a way," Lila said firmly, reaching across the table to squeeze Aria's hand. "A new doctor, a better program, whatever it takes. You're stronger than you realize. I'll help you. I'll be there every step of the way."
Aria's throat tightened. "You'd really do that?"
"Of course," Lila said without hesitation. Then, with a sudden mischievous glint, she added, "In fact, why wait? You should teach me. Right now. Let's go to the rink. It'll be fun."
Aria blinked, startled. "You? On ice? Lila, you can't even balance on a pair of heels without—"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence," Lila warned, laughing as she grabbed her bag. "Let's go!"
---
The rink smelled of cold air and faint polish, the hum of machinery keeping the ice smooth and ready. Aria's heart raced the moment she stepped inside, the familiar chill biting at her skin. Memories stirred—of competition days, of applause and music, of the intoxicating freedom only the ice could offer.
She laced her skates quickly, the leather snug against her ankles. Lila, meanwhile, fumbled beside her, grimacing as she tried to force her feet into the stiff boots.
"These things are medieval torture devices," Lila complained.
"You'll live," Aria teased, standing with the ease of someone who had spent half her life on blades.
The first step onto the ice was like breathing after holding her lungs empty for too long. Aria glided forward, the blade whispering across the surface, and every nerve in her body lit up. She twirled once, testing balance, and felt the world melt away.
Behind her came a squeal. Lila clung to the railing, her arms flailing. "How do you make this look so easy? I swear the ground hates me."
"Bend your knees," Aria instructed, skating back to her. "And relax. You're stiff as a board."
"I'm stiff because I'm about to die," Lila muttered, then promptly slipped and landed on her backside with a dramatic groan.
Aria laughed—really laughed, from deep in her belly. The sound startled her as much as the fall had startled Lila. She hadn't laughed like that in years. Reaching down, she offered her hand. "Come on. Up you go."
They tried again. And again. Lila fell more times than Aria could count, each time swearing she'd give up, only to burst into giggles and try again. Slowly, she managed a few wobbly glides, her grin as wide as the rink itself.
For Aria, time blurred. She guided, demonstrated, spun. She even attempted a jump, landing shakily but with triumph flashing in her chest. Every moment filled her with a joy she thought she'd lost forever.
By the time they finally left the rink, cheeks flushed and fingers numb, Aria felt lighter than she had in years. She looked at Lila, stumbling along beside her, and whispered, "Thank you."
"For what?" Lila asked, confused.
"For reminding me what happiness feels like."
---
That night, dinner was a solitary affair, a single plate at the long, echoing table. The silence pressed in, broken only by the clink of her fork. Henry did not return home. No call, no message.
Aria stared at the empty chair opposite her, her chest hollow. Why was she trapped in a marriage defined by absence, when happiness seemed to bloom so effortlessly for others?
She waited until midnight. But no one came home. Then she fell asleep while waiting. With the pain of loneliness that felt just like the past.
She didn't want a marriage like this. She wanted to be happy, like Lila and Elias.