SERAPHINA’S POV
By the time I stepped out into the latter part of the day, the estate had already fully awakened into its pre-celebration rhythm.
Sunlight spilled over the Maldives horizon in a steady, golden cascade, transforming the white stone paths into something nearly incandescent. The ocean beyond the terraces shimmered like glass.
Everywhere I looked, there were signs of careful preparation—flowers rearranged in elegant clusters, ribbons adjusted on archways, servants moving with quiet efficiency as though the entire estate was a living organism, anticipating a single event.
My eighteenth birthday.
That was all anyone could talk about.
I could hear it in the softened voices that hushed when I passed, in the faint smiles that followed my movements through the corridors, in the way people inclined their heads with a respect that felt strange.
And beneath all of it, an undercurrent of unease lingered.
It was not loud; it did not demand attention. But it was there, like a thread snagged beneath fabric that otherwise looked perfect.
I didn’t know why I felt this way, especially when everything was so perfect.
I was Catherine’s prized jewel.
I had heard it more than once in passing conversations, spoken softly by servants who thought I was too far away to hear.
They said I was proof of her kindness, her ability to take someone broken from a cruel world and give them something softer, something better.
I adjusted the light fabric of my dress as I walked through the east corridor toward the garden terrace where Catherine had asked me to meet her.
The estate was quieter here, the noise of celebration softened by distance and architecture, traded for the hush of water features and the sigh of wind in the palms.
And yet even in the quieter spaces, a strange sense of being watched lingered.
When I reached the garden terrace, Catherine was already there.
She sat beneath the shade of a pale canopy, her silver-blonde hair catching the sunlight in soft strands that moved gently with the breeze.
When she saw me, her smile formed immediately.
“There you are,” she said warmly.
I smiled in return. It came naturally, this reflex of ease around her.
Catherine gestured for me to sit, and I did, folding myself into the chair across from her as servants quietly placed refreshments nearby before retreating again.
For a moment, there was only the sound of the ocean and the distant hum of preparation.
Then, I sensed Catherine studying me.
Not in a way that felt invasive.
In a way that felt...attentive. She always noticed the parts of me my family had ignored.
“You’ve been unusually quiet since this morning,” she said gently.
My fingers tightened slightly around the edge of my sleeve before I even realized it.
“I’ve just been thinking,” I admitted.
“About your birthday?”
“About my fa—” I hesitated. “About the Lockwoods.”
After everything, I couldn’t possibly call them family.
Something shifted in Catherine’s expression—not discomfort or surprise.
Something more like careful consideration, as though she had expected this topic to resurface eventually and was simply choosing the right way to engage it.
“The Lockwoods,” she said softly.
The name felt strange when spoken aloud in this place, like a word belonging to a different language that I’d never properly learned.
“I...” I sighed. “I was wondering if I could...call them.”
Catherine leaned back, her hands folding neatly in her lap.
“And why would you want to do that?” she asked after a pause.
I shrugged, shoulders tight. "It’s my birthday tomorrow. I thought maybe they’d want to...maybe I should...maybe—" I sighed, dropping my head.
“It just feels like something I need to do,” I whispered finally.
Catherine studied me for a moment longer, and it took all of my willpower not to pull my gaze from hers.
When she finally spoke, her voice was calm, measured.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?”
Something in the question made my chest tighten.
“I just want to hear them,” I said. “That’s all.”
Another pause. Then, slowly, Catherine nodded.
“Of course,” she said finally. “If it will give you peace of mind, I won’t stop you.”
I exhaled in relief. I didn’t know what I’d do if she’d said no. Then again, Catherine had never withheld anything I wanted.
Not long after, a phone was brought to me, placed carefully on a small table in the shade.
Catherine did not leave. She remained seated nearby, though she said nothing more, only watching with that same composed patience she always carried.
My fingers hesitated above the device for only a second before I dialed.
The world around me seemed to quiet as I waited, and each ring sounded louder than the last, echoing around in my head.
Then the call connected.
“Hello?” a voice answered brusquely.
My breath hitched at the sound of my mother’s voice.
“Mother,” I said softly, my voice trembling. “It’s Sera.”
There was a pause on the other end. A long, uncomfortable silence that stretched too thin.
Then my mother spoke again, and her tone was not what I expected.
“What are you calling for?”
The warmth in my chest faltered. “I-I just wanted to check in. I haven’t—”
“You shouldn’t be calling here,” she interrupted sharply.
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“I just wanted to know how everyone is doing,” I said more softly. “I...miss you.”


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