Chapter 4

Elena's POV

The next morning when I came downstairs for breakfast, the dining room was already occupied.

Jason sat at the head of the long table.

Vicky sat to his right.

Both of them had the deep crimson irises common to vampires. Both looked up at me at the same time.

I stopped.

In that moment it became very clear to me: they were the same kind. Both noble, both belonging to this night-draped world.

And I was only human.

A human who had stood briefly at Jason's side because of a face that happened to resemble hers.

Jason's expression was, as always, calm.

Vicky smiled at me.

“Good morning, Elena.”

I crossed the room and sat down a little apart from them.

“Good morning.”

Breakfast arrived quickly.

I kept my head down and cut my bread, tasting almost nothing.

I hadn't slept well. The voices downstairs had finally stopped in the small hours of the morning.

But I'd lain awake after that, Vicky's laugh replaying. I barely managed to close my eyes before dawn.

Now my temples throbbed.

Vicky didn't seem to notice my exhaustion. She swirled her tea gently.

“I saw the white roses in the garden last night.”

She looked at Jason, as if she'd never left at all.

“Just like when we were children.”

Jason's expression shifted almost imperceptibly.

“You still remember?”

Vicky smiled.

“Of course. I used to sneak in and pick them. You had the butler cover for me.”

The corner of Jason's mouth moved slightly.

“Your father found out. You blamed the whole thing on me.”

Vicky laughed low.

“You never had the heart to scold me growing up.”

The air in the dining room was soft and still.

I sat to one side, my cutlery frozen in midair.

They were talking about the past.

Twenty years I'd never been part of.

Those childhood gardens. Those youthful secrets.

Every word was a reminder: I had never truly stepped into Jason's life.

I was just a shadow that arrived later.

No matter how alike the shadow might have looked, it could never compare to the woman living in his memories.

Vicky said quietly:

“When you took me to the garden last night, I thought I was back in time for a moment.”

Jason murmured:

“As long as you liked it.”

I looked down. Something small and dull caught in my chest.

That garden. I knew it, of course.

Shortly after the wedding, Jason had mentioned it in passing. He said there was a garden behind the house. I could explore it if I liked.

I'd thought at the time that it was his way of caring for me.

So the next day I'd walked down the stone path and wandered through it for a long time.

It was beautiful. But too large, too quiet.

Standing there alone, I felt like a trespasser.

I hardly went back after that.

Now I understood. When Jason truly cared for someone, he would personally accompany his beloved to see the flowers.

“Elena, do you go there much?”

I set down my knife and fork and smiled faintly.

“Once.”

Vicky looked surprised.

“Only once?”

Her voice was light.

But that light, floating surprise was sharper than mockery.

I nodded.

“Yes.”

She glanced at Jason, casually:

“Has your wife always been this quiet?”

Jason paused.

He looked at me properly for the first time.

I didn't raise my eyes. But I felt his gaze on my face.

I had cried last night. The shadows under my eyes were probably visible through any amount of makeup.

After a moment:

“Didn't sleep well?”

I looked up and smiled.

“I'm fine.”

He frowned.

“If you're tired, go rest. I'll have the butler keep your breakfast warm.”

It sounded considerate.

But what I heard underneath it was: you should leave.

You didn't belong here right now.

I stared at my plate. Something almost made me laugh.

I didn't understand why Jason hadn't brought up the divorce yet.

Vicky was already here. Sitting beside him. Drinking the tea he'd remembered she liked. Talking about a garden he'd personally walked her through.

She could even casually mention things from their childhood.

And I was just wrong, in all the wrong ways, at the wrong table.

I set down my napkin and said quietly:

“If you'd rather I not be in the house, I can go out for a while.”

Jason's eyes sharpened with that cold, precise focus I'd learned to read.

I knew I'd irritated him. But my fingers went tight and I said it anyway.

“Or I could find somewhere else to stay.”

The words came out very soft.

I wasn't making a scene. I wasn't testing him.

I just didn't want to be in anyone's way. Didn't want to make Jason uncomfortable, make Vicky awkward, or ruin what should have been an easy morning.

But Vicky's eyes immediately reddened.

She set down her cup, voice trembling.

“Have I given you the wrong impression?”

I went blank. I couldn't figure out what I'd said wrong.

She turned to Jason, tears already falling.

“Jason, should I not have come? I know I'm in the way. If Elena's upset, I'll leave right now.”

The air in the dining room went very cold.

Looking at her tears, I suddenly felt a weariness I recognized from long ago.

This was the same exhaustion, accumulated drop by drop over years.

When I was a child, my stepsister would take something from me, and the moment I said a word about it, she'd burst into tears.

My father would frown at me.

My stepmother would gently urge me to be more understanding.

And I was always the one who ended up apologizing.

Back then I still felt the injustice of it. I still wanted to explain — to tell my father she'd been the one to tear my painting, she'd been the one to lock me in the storage room.

But no one wanted to hear it.

So I learned to lower my head, find a corner, and save my energy for surviving.

It was the same now.

I wanted to open my mouth and say I hadn't meant it that way.

But my throat closed.

I couldn't even look at Jason.

I was afraid to see his disappointment. More afraid to see him take Vicky's side.

I had no strength left.

I didn't want to compete with another woman over a man.

When I was young it had been over my father's affection.

Now it was over a husband.

But I knew perfectly well: I couldn't win. Not in any way.

They shared twenty years of history.

The same vampire blood, the same world, the same memories I would never break into.

I was the latecomer.

A human who happened to look like Vicky.

If I'd never been able to win my father's love, what made me think I could take Jason's heart from her.

There was no point fighting.

I had never had a seat at this table.

I set down my napkin and stood slowly.

“I'm sorry.”

My voice was barely audible.

“I didn't mean it that way.”

Vicky's crying stopped for just a moment.

Jason watched me, his frown deepening.

I didn't know if he was angry at what I'd said, or if he'd finally noticed the composure on my face had been hollow for a while now.

He was quiet for a few seconds. Then:

“Elena, go upstairs.”

I nodded without hesitating.

“All right.”

He held my gaze a moment, then added:

“I'll talk to you once I've seen to Vicky.”

My fingers gave a faint tremor.

Talk about what?

That I shouldn't have spoken that way at breakfast.

Or that he was finally ready to ask me to give up my place as his wife.

I didn't ask. I turned and left the dining room.

Behind me, Vicky's low sobbing resumed.

Jason's voice, gentle, coaxing.

I walked upstairs. It felt like Vicky's eyes were fixed on my back the entire way.

Even against my will, I understood it too late.

On the night she arrived, I should have gone. Not held onto those foolish hopes in that empty bedroom.

The corridor lights were bright and somehow made me colder.

I felt like I'd been returned to the house I grew up in.

All the warmth was always downstairs.

All the love always belonged to someone else.

And I could only go back to my room and wait for someone else to decide where I'd go next.

Except this time, I was done waiting to be sent away.

This time, I would leave first.