The morning sun broke through the lace curtains, spilling gold across the floorboards of Selene's room. She hadn't slept, not really. Her body had rested, but her mind had not.
Every second had replayed the dinner, the laughter, and the speed at which things were shifting. Anne had only been home for three days, yet it already felt as though she had always belonged there.
Selene rose from bed, her fingers brushing the edge of the sunflower vase. The petals had begun to wilt slightly, or perhaps that was only what she wished to see. The memory of Anne's voice, lilting and warm, still echoed in her ears: "We're sisters now, after all."
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Come in," she said quietly.
The door opened, revealing her maid, Clara. A girl she'd known since she was twelve. Yet even her presence gave Selene pause now. Clara's hair was tied differently. Her uniform had the Sinclair crest embroidered over the chest. Something that hadn't existed before.
"My lady," Clara greeted with a polite bow. "Lady Anne asked that I fetch you for breakfast. Lord Sinclair wishes for you both to dine with him in the garden this morning."
"...In the garden?" Selene repeated.
"Yes, my lady."
That, too, was wrong. Richard never held breakfast outdoors, not even during spring. He disliked the morning chill.
"Very well," Selene said finally, her tone even. "I'll be there shortly."
As Clara turned to leave, Selene stopped her. "Clara," she said softly, "how long have you been serving the family?"
The maid looked mildly puzzled, then smiled. "Since Lady Anne came to live with us, my lady."
Selene's heart stilled. "Not before that?"
"No, my lady." Clara's eyes carried no hint of deceit. "Lord Sinclair said he wanted a fresh staff to help Lady Anne settle in."
Selene didn't respond. She dismissed her with a nod, and when the door shut again, her fingers trembled slightly.
The world was changing and not just in fragments she could dismiss as memory gaps. People, events, and even history itself was rearranging to accommodate Anne.
...….
When she stepped into the garden, sunlight was filtering through the vines of the stone archway. The air smelled of roses and dew.
Richard was seated beneath the pergola, his expression bright. "There she is," he said warmly. "I was beginning to think you'd overslept."
Anne sat beside him, her hands folded neatly around a porcelain cup. Her smile was gentle, and practiced. "Good morning, Sister."
Selene's eyes flicked toward Richard. "Good morning, Father."
She sat opposite them. The table was set with fruit, pastries, and tea. A maid poured her a cup.
Richard's laughter came easily as he spoke about the estate, about his plans for the week, and about Anne's progress in piano.
Piano.
Selene looked up sharply. "She plays?"
Anne's cheeks flushed in a perfect imitation of humility. "Father has been teaching me," she said softly. "He said it would help me develop grace."
Selene's chest tightened. Richard had taught her piano. It was their shared ritual, the one thing that had bound them.
"You never mentioned it," Selene said, her voice calm, though something cracked quietly beneath it.
Richard glanced at her with a faint, apologetic smile. "You were busy preparing for the Ashford event, my dear. I didn't wish to trouble you with my lessons."
"Of course," she murmured.
Anne reached forward, brushing invisible crumbs from the tablecloth. "Father said you were very talented," she said lightly. "Perhaps you could teach me one of your favorite pieces someday."
Selene's lips curved, but her eyes stayed distant. "Perhaps."
After breakfast, Richard was called away by the steward. Anne lingered under the vines, her head tilted toward the sun.
Selene watched her in silence. The air between them was deceptively gentle.
"You seem troubled, Sister," Anne said after a pause, turning her gaze toward her. "Is something wrong?"
Selene studied her. Every expression, and every word felt deliberate. It was as though Anne were performing kindness, and not living it.
"You've adjusted quickly," Selene said finally. "Most would find this house overwhelming."
Anne smiled faintly. "I suppose I'm fortunate."
"Yes," Selene said softly. "Fortunate indeed."
Anne's eyes gleamed faintly before she looked away. "Father says fortune favors those who embrace change."
Selene's throat tightened. "And what of those who question it?"
Anne looked back at her, and for the briefest moment her expression changed. The softness vanished. The innocence dimmed.
Then she smiled again, sweetly. "They get left behind."
The breeze stirred the hem of her gown, carrying the faint scent of lavender.
Selene didn't answer. Her heart pounded too hard to speak.
...….
That evening, she sought refuge in her mother's old study. The study room was the one room untouched by time. Dust coated the bookshelves. The faint smell of ink and parchment filled the air.
On the desk lay a photo of herself as a child, seated on her mother's lap, with Richard standing behind them. The frame was cracked at the corner.
Selene sank into the chair and closed her eyes.
"What are you, Anne?" She murmured to herself so softly.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sound. Footsteps. Light, yet deliberate ones.
She turned, and froze.
Anne stood at the doorway. "I didn't mean to intrude," she said softly. "Father said you might be here."
Selene's gaze sharpened. "This room is private."
"I know," Anne said, stepping inside anyway. "But I wanted to see it. It was your mother's, wasn't it?"
Selene's hand gripped the armrest. "You shouldn't be here."
Anne tilted her head. "She was very beautiful," she said, glancing at the photograph. "Father said you take after her."
Selene's voice dropped lower. "What exactly do you want, Anne?"
Anne smiled faintly. "I want what's already mine."
Selene's breath hitched. "And what would that be?"
Anne looked at her and for the first time, there was no pretense. No veil of shyness. Her tone dropped to a whisper, low and hauntingly calm.
"This family."
Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the moment dissolved. Anne's expression softened again. "I should go. Dinner will be soon."
She curtsied lightly and slipped out, leaving Selene frozen in her chair.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Selene exhaled shakily. Her gaze drifted to the photograph again, but something was wrong.
Her eyes widened.
The photograph had changed.
Where there had once been only her, her mother, and Richard, there was now a fourth figure.
Anne.
Smiling, standing beside her, as though she had always been there.
Selene's blood ran cold.
The air in the room thickened, pressing down on her chest. She reached for the photo, her hands trembling, her mind spiraling through disbelief.
"No," she whispered. "No, this isn't—"
The door creaked open again.
"Miss Selene?" Clara's voice called softly. "Dinner is served."
Selene set the photo down slowly, her gaze locked on Anne's painted smile.
"I'll be right there," she said, her voice steady, though the world beneath it was not.