Later dinner was served in the grand dining room, a long, polished table set with the finest china and crystal glasses. The candlelight flickered softly, casting dancing shadows against the walls, but the warmth of the room could not erase the chill in the air.
Her father, Harlond, sat at the head of the table, his posture rigid, a man used to control. Across from him, Camilla smiled politely, a practiced smile that never reached her eyes. Celeste was next to her mother, her gaze flicking between the adults with a calculated calm.
Jillian took her seat, her chair scraping softly against the floor, and glanced around the table. The tension in the air was palpable.
"So, Jillian," Harlond began, his voice coldly polite, "what's the latest with your research? We don't hear much from you these days."
Jillian's fork clinked against her plate, the sound cutting through the silence. "It's going well. I've made some good progress." She kept her tone neutral, not giving anything away.
Celeste sipped her wine, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched Jillian. "Must be nice to be so focused on your work. Must keep you... distracted." Her words hung in the air, laced with something she didn't say aloud.
Jillian met her gaze head-on, unblinking. "I suppose it does."
Camilla leaned forward, breaking the silence that had formed between them. "The wedding plans are coming along nicely. We'll need your support, Jillian. After all, it's your family, too."
Jillian's jaw tightened, but she remained composed. "Is that so? I'm sure Celeste can handle it. She seems to be doing just fine."
Celeste's lips curled into a slight smile, her eyes sharp. "Of course. But family is important, Jillian. You should be here. You might be surprised by how much you'll enjoy it."
Jillian could feel the weight of her father's stare, but she didn't let it affect her. She took another bite of her meal, feeling the tension in the room grow heavier with each passing second.
This isn't family. Not anymore.
Celeste hadn't said much since Jillian's arrival, and that only made the air thicker.
Jillian finally broke the silence. "It's strange being back here... after so long."
Celeste's eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't respond immediately. Instead, her gaze flickered to her mother, who offered a faint nod of encouragement. Then, with a forced smile, Celeste answered.
Celeste: "Yes, strange for you, I'm sure. But not so strange for me. I've always been here."
Her tone wasn't as smooth as she'd intended. It had an edge to it.
Jillian didn't miss it. She paused, chewing her food slowly as she thought. She hadn't seen her sister in years—at least not in the way they were now, as women instead of girls. But something about Celeste still felt off. The way she held herself—like someone who had spent too much time fighting to be seen.
Jillian (quietly): "Has it really been that easy for you? Just staying here... with everything?"
Celeste's eyes flashed, her fork clinking sharply against her plate as she lowered it. Her lips curled into a small, controlled smile.
Celeste: "Easy? For me? You really think I had it easy, Jillian? Do you think everyone just handed me things because I'm the perfect daughter?"
Her voice didn't rise, but the sharpness in it made Jillian's heart race. It was a side of Celeste Jillian hadn't seen before—the one that was raw, unfiltered, and just under the surface for so long.
Jillian (softly): "I never said that."
The conversation hung in the air, heavy with something unsaid. Jillian could feel the tension tighten around her, like a noose slowly pulling. Celeste's expression had changed, softened for a moment before it hardened again, as if she were trying to swallow something bitter.
Celeste: "You were always the one everyone praised, the one who got all the attention. Don't pretend you didn't see that."
Her voice was thick now, something darker creeping into it. Jillian hadn't expected this—hadn't expected Celeste to lash out like this, in front of everyone.
Jillian (staring at her sister, confused): "What are you talking about?"
The silence around the table grew deafening as Celeste slowly pushed her chair back. For a moment, the world seemed to stop. She turned her head, staring at the empty glass of wine in her hand, then back at Jillian, eyes burning with a fire Jillian hadn't known existed there.
Celeste (whispering): "I had to do things... things you'd never understand. To make sure people noticed me. To make sure I wasn't... forgotten."
The words hung there, weighty with the kind of desperation Jillian had never seen in her sister. She thought of her own life, her own choices, and how far apart they'd grown over the years. Had she missed something? Had Celeste really been so invisible to everyone, including their father?
Jillian's voice cracked, a mixture of disbelief and concern.
Jillian: "What do you mean by that? What did you do, Celeste?"
Celeste glanced around the table, meeting her mother's eyes briefly, but there was no answer. Camilla gave nothing away, her face perfectly composed. Celeste's lips tightened into a thin line, and for a moment, Jillian could see the old resentment flaring behind her sister's eyes.
Celeste: "Nothing, Jillian. Nothing you need to worry about."
But the words felt hollow, as if there was so much more that Celeste wasn't saying.
Jillian watched her sister, her stomach twisting with a mix of sympathy and confusion. There were things Celeste had been hiding, things that Jillian might never fully understand—but it was clear that Celeste was living with a pain of her own, one she had buried deep inside her.
As the dinner continues in the dimly lit room, the tension between Jillian and Celeste feels palpable. Jillian watches her sister carefully, the words she just spoke still echoing in her mind. There's so much unspoken history between them, history that has been buried under years of distance and expectations. But now, as the evening unfolds, Jillian can feel it all bubbling to the surface.
Camilla, Celeste's mother, continues to smile gracefully, her voice as smooth as ever, guiding the conversation in her usual polished way. Jillian, however, can't ignore the look on Celeste's face, the way her eyes occasionally drift toward her mother, seeking something from her, some kind of validation.
Jillian (quietly): "You were always the perfect daughter, weren't you?"
Celeste's eyes flicker with a sudden, sharp intensity. The smile she wears now is tight, controlled.
Celeste: "You think I didn't work for it? You think I didn't have to fight for everything I got? Mom taught me how to be... how to be seen."
Her voice is steady, but there's an edge to it now, something Jillian hadn't noticed before. Celeste looks at Camilla, as if seeking approval or perhaps waiting for a reaction.
Jillian: "She taught you how to be perfect, how to use your looks to get what you wanted, right?"
Celeste stiffens, but there's a bitter smile that plays on her lips, as if the truth of Jillian's words has finally landed.
Celeste: "Is that what you think? That I'm some... object to be admired?"