Chapter 20: The Shopping Trip
The morning dawned grey and cold, winter refusing to loosen its grip on the estate. Serene had barely slept—hadn't slept, really, not since the announcement. Her eyes felt like they'd been rubbed with sand, her limbs heavy with exhaustion that went far deeper than the physical.
But the house didn't care about her exhaustion. The house never cared.
She was in the kitchen at five-thirty as always, helping Mrs. Higgins prepare breakfast, when Amelia swept in with the unnatural brightness of someone who had slept perfectly and wanted everyone to know it.
"Serene, dear," Amelia said, her voice dripping with false warmth. "I have a wonderful treat for you today."
Serene's hands stilled on the bread she was slicing. A treat from Amelia was never a treat.
"Ethan has graciously offered to take Ava shopping for engagement things—you know, a necklace, perhaps a dress for the announcement party. And I thought to myself, why shouldn't Serene come along? She'll need something appropriate for the wedding preparations, after all. And it would be so lovely for the sisters to spend time together before the big event."
Mrs. Higgins shot Serene a look of pure warning, but Serene didn't need it. She knew better than to trust any kindness from Amelia.
"I insist," Amelia continued, her smile fixed and terrible. "It's been too long since you've had a proper outing. And Ethan won't mind, will you, Ethan?"
Serene turned.
Ethan stood in the kitchen doorway, already dressed for the day in a charcoal coat and crisp white shirt. His green eyes moved from Amelia to Serene, assessing, unreadable.
"Of course not," he said smoothly. "The more the merrier."
The words were polite. The tone was pleasant. But there was something in his gaze—a flicker of something Serene couldn't name—that made her chest tighten.
She looked away before he could see anything in her eyes.
---
The car was absurdly luxurious.
Serene sat in the back, pressed against the window, as far from the others as possible. Ava had claimed the seat beside Ethan, naturally, her hand resting on his arm as she chattered about designers and colors and all the things she would need for their engagement.
Their engagement.
Serene stared out the window at the passing countryside and tried not to feel anything.
"Serene, darling, you're being so quiet," Ava said, turning to look at her with mock concern. "Oh, wait. I forgot. You're always quiet."
She laughed at her own joke, a bright, brittle sound that grated against Serene's nerves.
Ethan said nothing. His eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, meeting Serene's gaze for just a moment before sliding away.
---
The first stop was a jewelry store.
Glass cases gleamed under soft lighting, displaying necklaces and earrings and bracelets that cost more than Serene had seen in her lifetime. Ava moved through the store like a queen surveying her domain, trying on piece after piece while Amelia offered effusive praise.
"That one, darling. No, the emerald. It brings out your eyes."
"Ethan, what do you think? The sapphire or the diamond?"
Ethan examined each piece with polite interest, offering neutral comments that revealed nothing. "Both are lovely. You have excellent taste."
Ava preened.
Serene stood near the door, invisible as always, watching the performance with hollow eyes.
She didn't notice the case in the corner until they were nearly ready to leave.
Chinese antique jewelry. Delicate pieces displayed on dark velvet—hairpins with dangling ornaments, earrings of intricate design, necklaces of jade and silver and gold.
And in the center, a hairpin.
It was beautiful—a silver stem ending in a cluster of tiny flowers, each petal carved with impossible precision. A small jade butterfly perched among the blooms, its wings so thin they seemed almost transparent.
Serene's breath caught.
Her mother had given her a hairpin like that once. Not real jade, not real silver—just a pretty thing from a market stall, meant for a child to play with. Serene had loved it, had worn it in her hair whenever she could, had felt beautiful and special and seen.
Ava had broken it within a month. Snapped it in half and laughed while Serene cried.
"Ava, come look at these," Amelia called. "The craftsmanship is exquisite."
Ava drifted over, examining the case with bored interest. "Pretty, I suppose. A bit old-fashioned for my taste."
Her eyes landed on Serene, standing frozen before the case, and something cruel flickered in their depths.
"Oh, look," Ava said brightly. "Serene likes the peasant jewelry. How fitting."
She laughed, the sound echoing off the glass cases.
Amelia joined in, a lighter, more refined version of the same cruelty. "Let her look, dear. It's not as if she'll ever own anything so fine."
Ethan stood behind them, his expression unreadable. He hadn't laughed. Hadn't spoken. Hadn't done anything but watch.
Serene forced herself to turn away from the case, to follow the others toward the exit, to resume her place as the invisible shadow trailing behind.
She didn't see Ethan linger.
She didn't see him speak quietly to the clerk.
She didn't see the small box slipped into his coat pocket.
---
The dress shop was worse.
Ava tried on gown after gown, emerging from the fitting room in clouds of silk and lace, spinning before the mirrors while Amelia clapped and Ethan offered measured praise. Saleswomen fussed and flattered, bringing more options, more colors, more expensive confections.
Serene sat on a small velvet ottoman near the window, watching the street outside, trying to disappear.
"I need your opinion, Serene," Ava called suddenly. "Come here."
Serene rose slowly, crossing to where Ava stood in a gown of deep burgundy, the color of wine and blood. It was beautiful—she could admit that, even through the ache in her chest.
"What do you think?" Ava asked, and there was something in her voice—a challenge, a trap.
Serene signed carefully: It's lovely. The color suits you.
Ava's eyes narrowed. She didn't understand sign language—had never bothered to learn—but she understood enough to know Serene had answered.
"The mute speaks," she said, laughing. "Well, sort of. How adorable. All those little hand gestures like a trained monkey."
Amelia tittered behind her hand.
Serene's face remained blank. She had learned, over years of practice, to show nothing when they attacked. It was the only defense that worked.
"Try something on," Ava said suddenly, her eyes lighting with malicious inspiration. "Go on. Pick a dress. I want to see what the little mouse looks like in something other than rags."
"Darling," Amelia said, "don't be cruel."
"I'm not being cruel. I'm being generous. Serene should have something nice for the wedding, shouldn't she? After all, she'll be serving at it."
The saleswomen exchanged uncomfortable glances but said nothing. Customers in other parts of the shop pretended not to hear.
Serene stood motionless, her eyes fixed on a point just past Ava's shoulder.
"Go on," Ava urged. "Pick something. I'll even buy it for you. Think of it as a gift from your future brother-in-law."
The words hit Serene like a slap.
Brother-in-law.
Ethan was going to be her brother-in-law. The boy who had kissed her in the greenhouse, who had promised her forever, who had given her a moonstone pendant and pressed-flower bookmarks—he was going to marry her stepsister and become her brother-in-law.
She would have to watch them together for the rest of her life.
She would have to call him family while he never even saw her.
"Serene?" Ava's voice was sharp. "Did you hear me?"
Serene moved.
She walked to a rack of dresses, selected the first one her hand touched—a simple navy thing, plain and unremarkable—and carried it to the fitting room without looking back.
Behind her, Ava's laughter followed like a curse.
---
The dress fit well enough. It was nothing special—just fabric and stitching, no different from the plain clothes she always wore. But when she emerged from the fitting room, something in Ethan's expression shifted.
He was looking at her.
Really looking, for the first time since he'd returned.
His green eyes traveled over the dress, over her, with an intensity that made her skin prickle. There was something in his gaze—recognition? Memory? Longing? She couldn't tell. Couldn't read him at all.
"Adequate," Ava pronounced, breaking the moment. "Very... you. Plain. Forgettable." She waved a hand dismissively. "We'll take it. It'll do for serving."
Ethan's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but he said nothing.
Serene retreated to the ottoman by the window and didn't emerge again.
---
Lunch was the worst.
The restaurant was elegant—white tablecloths, crystal glasses, waiters in crisp uniforms. Ava had chosen it, of course, a place she'd frequented with friends from the city, a place where everyone knew her name.
They were seated at a prime table near the window. Ava beside Ethan, Amelia across from them, Serene at the end like an afterthought.
The menus arrived—leather-bound, heavy, covered in words.
French words.
Serene stared at the pages, her heart sinking. She had never been to a restaurant like this. Never learned to read a menu in another language. Never had the chance to learn anything about dining out or ordering food or being a person who belonged in places like this.
The waiter appeared, pen poised.
"Madame?" He looked at Ava, the obvious choice.
"I'll have the coq au vin, and the asparagus bisque to start. Ethan, darling, what about you?"
Ethan ordered smoothly in perfect French, his accent flawless, his ease complete.
Amelia ordered next, her French passable, her confidence unshakeable.
Then all eyes turned to Serene.
She looked at the menu. Looked at the waiter. Looked at the words she couldn't read, the language she didn't know, the situation she had no idea how to navigate.
Her hands moved before she could stop them: I don't understand.
Ava burst out laughing.
"Oh my God," she gasped, "she doesn't understand. She can't even read the menu. Serene, it's French. French. The language of cuisine. How do you not know French?"
Amelia shook her head sadly, playing the part of the disappointed stepmother. "I tried to educate her, but she was always so... resistant. Content to stay in her little world."
The waiter shifted uncomfortably. "Perhaps I could recommend—"
"Don't bother," Ava interrupted. "Just bring her whatever's cheapest. She won't know the difference anyway."
Ethan said nothing.
His hands were gripping his water glass, knuckles white, but his face remained perfectly composed. He didn't defend her. Didn't intervene. Didn't do anything but sit there, silent, while Ava and Amelia shredded what remained of her dignity.
Serene looked down at the tablecloth and tried to disappear.
---
The food came eventually. She ate without tasting it, mechanically, because that's what you did when food appeared in front of you. Ava and Amelia talked through the meal, discussing wedding plans, guest lists, all the ways Ava would shine as Ethan's bride.
Ethan contributed occasionally—polite comments, agreeable nods, the performance of a man exactly where he wanted to be.
And Serene sat at the end of the table, invisible, voiceless, watching the love of her life build a future with the woman who had destroyed her.
---
After lunch, as they walked toward the car, Ava stopped suddenly.
"Oh! Serene, wait." She reached into her bag and pulled out a small box—the one from the jewelry store, the Chinese antique case. "Ethan bought you something. How sweet of him."
Serene stared at the box.
She hadn't seen him buy anything. Hadn't seen him approach the case. Hadn't seen—
"Take it," Ava urged, pressing it into her hands. "Go on. Open it."
Serene opened the box.
The hairpin lay inside—the silver stem, the tiny flowers, the jade butterfly with wings so thin they seemed almost alive. It was more beautiful up close, more exquisite than she'd realized.
Her eyes lifted to Ethan's.
He was watching her with that unreadable expression again—the one that made her chest ache with memories she'd tried so hard to kill.
"I—" she started to sign, then stopped. What was the point? He wouldn't understand.
She shook her head, holding the box out to him. She couldn't accept this. Couldn't take gifts from the man who was marrying her tormentor. Couldn't let herself hope, even for a moment, that this meant something.
"It's just a gift," Ethan said quietly. "You don't have to make it into something."
"Take it, Serene," Amelia said, her voice sweet and poisonous. "It would be rude to refuse. After everything Ethan has done for our family, the least you can do is accept his kindness."
The words were a trap, and they all knew it. Refuse, and seem ungrateful. Accept, and owe them something. There was no right choice. There never was.
Serene closed her fingers around the box.
She signed, slowly and deliberately: Thank you.
She didn't look at Ethan's face to see if he understood.
She didn't look at Ava's triumph or Amelia's satisfaction.
She simply turned and walked toward the car, the small box clutched in her hand like a talisman, like a curse, like the last piece of a dream that had died years ago.
---