Chapter 3

Three days before the induction, Mother surprised me by asking me to lunch.

“Just the two of us,” she said. “We could talk about what comes next for you.”

I knew better than to read too much into it. Still, a small hope stirred inside me.

Maybe, for once, she wanted to hear what I wanted.

I reserved a table at her favorite Italian restaurant for noon the next day. By eleven thirty, I was already there.

I ordered the lobster bisque she liked, along with the truffle risotto she always claimed no other restaurant in Manhattan could make properly.

Then I waited.

At twelve thirty, I sent her a message.

At one, I called.

At two, the waiter quietly replaced the ice in her untouched glass.

By three, the lunch crowd had disappeared. Mother still hadn’t come.

At three forty-seven, my phone finally lit up.

My mom texted me：Something urgent came up. We’ll have lunch another time.

Before I could reply, a photograph appeared in the Bellini family group chat.

It was from Bianca.

Look what Mom helped me choose for the induction. Aren’t they perfect?

Her nails were painted a soft ivory, decorated with tiny gold roses and diamonds that caught the light each time she moved her hand.

Mother replied first.

Perfect for my beautiful girl.

Marco followed seconds later.

They suit you.

Even Father sent a response.

Very elegant.

I stared at the photograph until the diamonds blurred. So that was the emergency.

Mother had left me sitting in a restaurant for four hours because Bianca needed help choosing her manicure.

I should have expected it.

But some foolish part of me had still believed she meant it when she said she wanted to talk about my future.

I ate alone beneath the restaurant’s warm lights, surrounded by tables full of people who had arrived long after me.

By the time I returned home, the living room was buried beneath garment bags.

Several pairs of designer heels stood beside Bianca’s gowns, and an antique diamond necklace lay open beneath the chandelier.

Mother was holding different silk shawls against Bianca’s shoulders.

She glanced over when I entered.

“Where have you been? Your induction is three days away, and you haven’t helped prepare anything.”

My throat tightened. “I waited for you until four.”

Mother’s expression darkened. “I told you something came up. I’ve spent the entire day preparing for your induction, and instead of thanking me, you come home looking for a fight.”

My eyes moved to Bianca’s jeweled nails. “Getting Bianca’s manicure was the emergency?”

Marco rose from the sofa. “We were busy whole day. Everything for the induction has been arranged, including yours.”

He snapped. “Do you really think Mother has time to sit in a restaurant discussing your feelings?”

The room fell silent. Bianca lowered her hands, her smile fading.

“Marco, don’t,” she murmured. “Elena is right. Mom should have gone. My appointment wasn’t important.”

But she had let Mother stay with her all afternoon.

Mother’s expression tightened. “I was trying to make sure everything was perfect for both of you. Turns out nothing I do is ever enough for Elena.”

Father looked at me with disappointment. “That’s enough, Elena. Your mother has worked hard. You could show some gratitude.”

Once again, I had become the person who had ruined the evening simply by pointing out what they had done.

In the past, I would have apologized immediately.

That night, I was simply tired.

“All right,” I said.

Then I turned and walked upstairs.

Two items had been placed on my bed.

A pair of white ceremonial gloves and an ivory shawl I recognized from Bianca’s closet. She had worn it once and complained that the embroidery made her look old.

That was everything Mother had “spent the entire day” preparing for me.

I picked up the shawl and ran my fingers over the embroidered Bellini roses.

For years, I had told myself that if I worked harder, achieved more, and asked for less, one day they would see me.

Now I finally understood.

They had always seen me.

They simply believed I was the daughter who could survive being forgotten.