Chapter 2: Everyday Cruelty

The next morning came too soon. I barely slept, tossing and turning in the same bed where I’d caught them the day before. I’d changed the sheets myself at midnight, scrubbing at invisible stains until my hands were raw, but it didn’t matter. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ethan’s face, heard Natalia’s laugh, felt the way my heart had shattered right there in the doorway.

My eyes were puffy and red when I finally dragged myself out of bed. I avoided the mirror. I didn’t want to see what I looked like, the girl who wasn’t enough. Again.

Downstairs, Isadora was already seated at the island in her robe, scrolling through her phone. Natalia sat beside her, wearing one of my favorite tops that she’d “borrowed” months ago and never returned.

“Finally decided to show up,” Isadora said without looking at me. “The eggs better not be runny today. And make fresh orange juice. None of that store-bought crap you tried last time.”

I nodded silently and got to work. My hands moved on autopilot, cracking eggs, frying bacon, squeezing oranges until my wrists ached. Evelyn was already there, quietly chopping fruit at the other counter. When Isadora wasn’t looking, she slid a small bowl of cut strawberries toward me and gave me a tiny, encouraging nod.

I forced a small smile back. It was the only warmth I was going to get today.

Natalia yawned dramatically. “God, I’m exhausted. Ethan kept me up half the night. That boy has stamina, I’ll give him that.” She looked straight at me, eyes sparkling with malice. “You never mentioned how good he is in bed, Aurora. Or maybe you just never got to find out properly.”

My knife slipped, nicking my finger. I quickly rinsed it under cold water, biting the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t cry.

Isadora laughed softly. “Natalia, don’t be cruel. Though I suppose it’s true. Some girls just don’t have what it takes to keep a man. Aurora’s always been… soft. Fragile. Like her mother.”

The mention of my mother made my chest tighten. I kept my head down and plated the food.

Father walked in just as I was setting everything on the table. He looked sharp in his suit, the same distinguished man who used to read me bedtime stories when I was little. For a second, his eyes landed on my swollen face and softened.

“Rory,” he said gently, pulling me into a quick side hug. “You look tired, sweetheart. Rough night?”

I leaned into him for just a moment, letting myself believe the affection was real. “Yeah. I’m okay though.”

He patted my back twice before letting go. “That’s my girl. Strong. We’ll talk later if you need to.”

Natalia rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. “Dad, seriously? She got dumped in the most embarrassing way possible and you’re still babying her. She’s twenty-one. Time to grow up.”

“Enough,” Father said, but his tone was mild. He sat down and started eating, like the conversation was already over.

Breakfast was a slow torture. Every bite I took tasted like ash. Isadora complained about the seasoning, the temperature, the way I folded the napkins. Natalia kept dropping little comments about Ethan, how he liked the way she moaned his name, how he told her I was boring in bed, how he’d been sneaking into her room for months while I was at work.

I kept my eyes on my plate and ate as little as possible.

When they finally left the table, Evelyn helped me clear the dishes. She waited until we were alone in the kitchen before speaking.

“You don’t have to listen to their poison,” she whispered, taking the heavy stack of plates from my hands. “They say those things because they’re small people. You’re not.”

I leaned against the counter, suddenly exhausted. “It hurts, Evelyn. Every word. I keep thinking about how happy I was yesterday morning… and now I feel so stupid. So naive.”

She squeezed my arm. “You’re not stupid. You’re kind. There’s a difference. And kindness is not a weakness, no matter what they tell you.”

The rest of the morning dragged on. Isadora had me cleaning the entire living room, even though we had a cleaning service coming in two days. “Make yourself useful,” she’d said. “Since you can’t keep a man, at least keep the house.”

I scrubbed until my knees hurt and my back ached. Natalia “accidentally” spilled her iced coffee on the rug I’d just cleaned, then laughed when I had to start over.

By afternoon, I was in the laundry room folding clothes when Natalia cornered me again. She leaned against the dryer, arms crossed, looking like a predator who’d finally trapped her prey.

“You know why Ethan came to me, right?” she asked sweetly. “Because you’re pathetic. Always moping around, talking about your dead mom and how hard life is. Men don’t want that. They want fun. They want someone who actually knows how to fuck.”

I kept folding one of Father’s shirts, refusing to look at her. My hands were shaking.

Natalia stepped closer. “He told me you cried the first time you had sex. Actually cried. Like a little virgin. It was pathetic, Aurora. No wonder he needed someone else.”

Tears blurred my vision. I blinked them away fast. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to know your place,” she hissed. “You’re nothing here. Just a reminder of Dad’s mistake marrying your mother. The sooner you accept that, the easier it’ll be for all of us.”

She snatched the folded shirt from my hands and threw it on the floor, then walked out.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at the crumpled fabric. Then I slowly bent down and picked it up. My chest felt tight, like something was squeezing my lungs. I finished the laundry in silence, but inside I was screaming.

Later that evening, after serving dinner and cleaning up, I finally escaped to my room. I locked the door, crawled into bed, and let the tears come again. Quiet this time. The kind that came from deep exhaustion.

A soft knock sounded. Evelyn’s voice filtered through the door. “It’s me, sweetheart.”

I let her in. She was carrying a small tray with warm milk and cookies, the kind she used to make when I was little and had nightmares.

She sat on the edge of my bed and watched me sip the milk. “Today was bad,” she said simply.

I nodded. “Every day feels bad lately.”

Evelyn brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “I know. I see it. I see everything they do to you. And I wish I could stop it all. But you have to keep going, Aurora. Keep your head down and your heart soft. The world needs people like you.”

“Why do they hate me so much?” I whispered. “What did I ever do to them?”

“Nothing,” she said firmly. “Some people don’t need a reason. They just need a target. And you’ve been theirs for too long.”

She stayed with me for almost an hour, telling me quiet stories about my mother, how kind she was, how she loved flowers and music, how she would have been proud of the woman I was becoming. It was the only thing that made the pain feel a little smaller.

When Evelyn finally stood to leave, she paused at the door.

“Whatever comes next,” she said softly, “remember that you’re not alone. Not really.”

I nodded, clutching the empty mug like a lifeline.

But as she closed the door behind her, I couldn’t shake the heavy feeling in my gut. The cruelty I’d faced today felt like practice. Like they were just warming up.

And something told me the worst was still coming.