The Harper residence had settled into a quieter rhythm as the evening moved from sparkling cocktails to dinner. Rose found herself seated at the long, polished mahogany table, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across the walls.
But Rose didn't hear it. She couldn't. All she could feel was the knot tightening in her chest. She sat poised, her back straight, hands resting delicately in her lap, trying to ignore the gnawing dread that had been building since the first toast.
Jason sat across from her, elbows resting lightly on the table, a smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. His dark eyes scanned her, calculating, searching for any sign of weakness or, worse, amusement at his words.
"Rose," he began, voice smooth, deliberately casual, "you've done… well, I suppose, to look like this tonight."
Rose's fork paused midway to her mouth. She forced a polite smile, unsure whether to laugh off the comment or let it sting. Her stomach tightened as he continued.
"I mean… I can see you've tried. New dress, new hair, nice job. But I'm just saying, perhaps… next time, we could aim for something a little… more flattering. You know. For your figure."
Rose's face burned. Heat pooled in her chest, rising to her cheeks. The polite murmur of other guests around the table felt suddenly suffocating, and she could feel eyes flicking toward her, though she couldn't tell whether in judgment or simple attention.
She clenched her fingers around the silverware, gripping it until the metal bit into her palm. Seven years, she thought, seven years of this. Every word Jason had ever uttered about her weight, every "joke" he had disguised as concern, now came rushing back with crushing clarity.
She forced herself to look away, her gaze falling on the crystal water glass in front of her. The room seemed to blur around the edges.
"Rose?" Jason's voice cut through her spiral. "You're quiet tonight. Not used to that, huh? Usually, you have something witty to say."
She swallowed hard, her lips pressed tightly together. "I'm… just enjoying the party," she said softly, almost a whisper.
Jason chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Of course, you are. I mean, really, you've… improved. But we all know, there's room for… refinement."
Rose's stomach lurched. Refinement? Every inch of her body felt suddenly wrong. Her arms, her waist, her legs, all too much, never enough. She could feel her pulse pounding in her temples.
Her phone buzzed in her clutching hand. She glanced down, desperate for some distraction, some relief from the heat of humiliation coursing through her.
A message notification lit up the screen.
From an unknown number:
"Rose… are you okay? I saw him. I'm so sorry."
Rose froze. Her thumb hovered over the screen. Who could possibly have seen Jason's cruelty? Who would reach out to her now, when the world felt like it was crumbling around her?
Her mind raced. Is it Lila? No. It couldn't be. Not now. Not after the looks, the smirk.
The buzz repeated, urgent this time. Rose's hand shook slightly as she unlocked her phone.
"You deserve better. Don't let him hurt you anymore. Please be safe."
Her chest tightened, and a tear threatened to spill. She quickly blinked it back, hating the weakness she felt. And yet, part of her, deep, raw, aching part longed to flee, to leave everything behind.
Jason, noticing her distraction, raised an eyebrow. "Everything alright? You look… tense. Maybe the wine is too strong?"
Rose's jaw tightened. "I'm fine," she said, voice firmer than she expected. But her heart was racing, a storm of embarrassment, fear, and confusion.
Lila, seated beside her, reached over, placing a hand on Rose's arm. "Don't let him get to you," she whispered, sweetly, reassuringly. But Rose's eyes narrowed ever so slightly at her. The memory of the smirk from earlier at the cocktails flashed in her mind. Was she really here to support me?
The rest of the dinner passed in a haze. Jason continued with his subtle digs, masking them in light-hearted jokes and smiles that no longer amused Rose. Each sentence felt like a knife, cutting into her self-esteem. Each polite laugh she forced felt like a betrayal of herself.
Finally, as the dessert plates were cleared and the last of the champagne was poured, Rose could no longer contain the growing fire inside her. She stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the marble floor, attracting murmurs from surrounding guests.
"I...I need some air," she said, her voice shaking slightly.
Jason's dark eyes narrowed. "Leaving already? Don't tell me the wine is too strong for you, sweetheart."
Rose ignored him, moving swiftly toward the double doors that led to the terrace. She felt her heels click against the polished stone floor as she tried to calm her racing heart. Once outside, the cool night air hit her like a balm. The world felt suddenly sharper, the stars above glaring down like witnesses to her shame.
She sank onto an iron bench, trying to steady her trembling hands. Her phone buzzed again. Another message:
"You're stronger than you know. Don't let him take that from you. Trust yourself."
Rose's breath caught. Stronger than she knew… Was that even true anymore? She had spent so long bending, twisting herself to fit into someone else's expectations that she barely recognized the woman staring back at her from the terrace railing.
A sudden rustle from the garden caught her attention. She looked up, heart hammering, but there was nothing. Just the faint glow of the house behind her, laughter leaking through the windows like a taunting reminder of everything she was leaving behind.
Her mind flashed with memories: years of silent pain, small jabs disguised as "helpful suggestions," and the creeping realization that Jason and Lila's connection might run deeper than she had dared to imagine.
Rose felt the first tremor of anger stir in her chest, mingled with fear and heartbreak. I can't stay here. I can't stay with them. I can't…
Her phone buzzed again. Another message, urgent this time:
"Don't trust anyone tonight. Get out. Go. Now."
Rose's eyes widened. Her fingers trembled around the phone. The message was clear. The implication was clear. And for the first time, she realized that the life she had known, the one she had carefully built around Jason, Lila, and their shallow comforts… was over.
Something cold and resolute settled in her chest. This wasn't just humiliation. It wasn't just heartbreak. This was a breaking point. And from breaking points came choices.
Rose stood, her hand gripping the iron railing, her mind a whirl of fear and resolve. Somewhere inside, a spark flickered, the first ember of a decision that would change everything.
Rose's phone buzzed one last time. A single message lit up the screen, and as she read it, her breath caught:
"If you want to survive tonight… don't go back inside."
The words hung in the cool night air, sharp and final, and Rose realized with a sinking heart: tonight may mark the end of everything she had ever known.