The Larkspur Mansion
That Same Night
"You shouldn't have talked to her like that," Rachael said to her husband, her voice laced with disapproval and the heaviness of unspoken worry.
"Didn't you see that daughter not ready to help her father," Silas replied, folding his arms and scowling as though betrayed.
"When did you become so close to Willow?" Maple asked, her tone sharp with jealousy and suspicion.
"If you need something from someone, you humble yourself... but you both are too arrogant," Rachael said, shaking her head in frustration, her eyes lingering on the empty space Willow had occupied.
"Willow has no plans to give us the money," Maple muttered bitterly, crossing her arms as she stared off into the dark window like she could will the answer to change.
Rachael went quiet for a second, then said softly, almost to herself, "Something is wrong with Willow."
"Did you just notice..." Maple scoffed, then added, "Willow has always been a stingy bastard."
"Not that," Rachael said with a click of her tongue, frowning deeply now.
"Then what?" Silas asked, furrowing his brow.
"I can't pinpoint it... it's like she wasn't really ready to exchange words with us," Rachael said, brows drawn together, trying to unravel the unease that had settled in her gut. "There was something... different."
"Willow has always been arrogant; she never ever exchanges words with us, she always treats us as if we are beneath her. The only time she got angry was four years ago," Maple said, glaring at the invisible Willow still sitting in the chair she'd left, as if her presence still haunted the room.
"Enough. Later, we can still go to her, beg her, and she will give us the money. We all are family anyway," Silas said with a dry, hollow smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Whatever," Maple muttered, unconvinced. But Rachael couldn't shake the feeling that Willow was no longer the same girl she once knew.
---
The Smith Mansion
Some Days Later
The whole mansion was bustling with life, fragrant with flowers and anticipation for the grand wedding celebration that was just around the corner. Everyone was busy, smiles were exchanged, laughter echoed through the halls—everyone was happy... except for the groom himself.
Juniper moved briskly from one end of the hall to the other, making sure every detail was perfect. Her nerves were fraying, but her determination was unwavering.
"Mom, you need to take it easy. Everything will be perfect," Iris, Leif's wife, said gently, placing a comforting hand on Juniper's shoulder.
Iris was a beautiful young woman, composed and graceful, from a reputable family considered fourth in standing after the Montclair family.
"Iris, I just want everything to be perfect. It's not easy to get Alder to accept this marriage... I just want him to be happy," Juniper said, forcing a smile through the stress lining her face.
"Hi mom!" Flora's cheerful voice cut through the tension.
"Oh my God, what are you doing here?" Juniper asked with a warm smile, surprised but pleased.
"I'm here to see Alder," Flora said brightly.
"You're getting married in two days. Why are you in such a hurry, sister-in-law?" Iris teased playfully.
"Exactly! After today, the next time I can see him will be on our wedding day," Flora said with a grin, her cheeks flushed with excitement as she ran toward Alder's room.
"This girl," Juniper said fondly, shaking her head with a smile before turning back to the preparations.
Iris watched her go, a small sigh escaping her lips. Flora is helplessly in love with Alder... just like I am with Leif, she thought.
---
Alder's Room
"Hello, groom-to-be!" Flora chirped, bursting into Alder's room without knocking, her voice as cheerful as ever.
Alder, who had been absorbed in whatever was on his phone, glanced back with mild irritation. Seeing that it was Flora, he gave no verbal response and returned to his screen.
Flora, undeterred, ran to his side and sat beside him on the bed, lacing her fingers through his with a beaming smile.
"What do you want?" Alder asked, not looking at her.
"I want to show you my wedding dress since you refused to come with me," Flora said, holding up her phone with pride. The dress sparkled beautifully on the screen.
Alder gave a small nod.
"We're going to get married in this," she said with a dreamy smile, walking over to check his black suit, which was neatly hung up.
She looked so happy.
Alder watched her for a moment. Her smile was radiant, her energy infectious—but his own expression remained flat. No joy. No sorrow. Just emptiness.
Their energies clashed like day and night.
"Are you happy getting married to me soon?" Flora asked, stepping in front of him, her eyes searching his face.
"Are you happy?" Alder deflected, his gaze cool.
"Yes, I am. I am very happy," Flora said, eyes shining with sincerity.
"Your happiness is enough for both of us," Alder replied, his tone neutral, eyes still glued to his phone.
"Alder," Flora called, her voice cracking slightly, a frown forming.
"Flora," Alder said in return, finally looking at her but with no affection behind his gaze.
"Are you unhappy about something?" she asked, sitting beside him again, concern etched on her face.
"Yes," Alder replied calmly, then added, "Next time you come to my room, remember to knock. What if I was naked?"
He looked her dead in the eyes, tone light, as if it was a harmless joke—but she felt the sting.
"We are getting married, Alder. What does it matter if you're naked or not?" she asked, wounded.
"We are not married yet," Alder shot back smoothly.
"Alder, stop acting like I'm getting married to myself," Flora said, rising to stand before him once more.
"It's been two years, Alder. Shouldn't you love me already?" Her voice trembled.
"Do you remember what I told you two years ago?" Alder asked.
---
FlashBack
Balcony of the Smith Mansion
Flora stood behind Alder, who was dressed in all black, his back facing her as the wind whispered around them.
"Miss Montclair, I can accept this marriage proposal on one condition," Alder said coldly.
"What is it?" Flora asked, hope blooming in her chest.
Alder turned around to face her. "I can't promise you anything. Especially love."
Flora smiled bitterly. "I love you. And my love is enough for both of us... we have enough time together to cultivate love, Alder."
"If you think so," Alder replied, expression unreadable.
End of FlashBack
---
"Do you remember?" Alder asked again.
"It's been two years, Alder," Flora said softly.
"More reason for you to keep remembering: I can't fall for you," Alder said, his voice firm as he sat motionless on the bed.
"Do you still love her?" Flora asked, her voice breaking.
"None of your concern," Alder replied, getting up and picking up his car keys.
"What does she possess that I don't, Alder? Is she more beautiful? Is her character better than mine? Is her dress sense better than mine?" Flora cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Tell me how she's better and I will try to be a better version of her."
Alder turned back, voice low and final. "The problem is that you're not her and you will never be her. You both are two different people and you don't need to be like anybody because she will never be like anybody. You can only be yourself."
"She left you for money, Alder. Why do you still love her? Why do you still care about her?" Flora asked desperately.
"Enough, Flora. I'm not in the mood for all this," Alder said and walked out, leaving her alone in his room.
Flora wiped her tears quickly and followed behind him, her face a portrait of quiet sorrow.
---
The Next Day
Willow stood before her mother's grave, wearing a long black dress she had designed herself. Her heels clicked softly against the stone path, the sound oddly soothing in the stillness.
She placed a willow flower at the base of the gravestone—she had been told her mother loved the willow tree.
"Hi Mom. It's me, Willow. Do you miss me?" she asked, her voice calm but distant.
She answered herself. "I know you do. You must, right?"
There was a strange yearning in her tone, like a child longing for a hug they never received.
"But don't worry. We will see each other soon... and be together forever," she whispered.
She poured some red wine—her mother's favorite—on the grave and drank from it herself, her lips barely twitching into a smile.
She never knew her mother. Everything she knew had been told to her by others. Her mother had died giving birth to her—a sacrifice that Willow had grown up knowing was the reason Silas hated her.
He always reminded her that she killed the woman he loved.
"We'll be together soon. And no one will be able to separate us," Willow said again, a chilling smile ghosting her lips.
She believed her mother loved her. She had to believe it. Her mother had given her life to bring Willow into this world. That had to mean something.
"Mom, see you soon," she said finally, her face devoid of emotion.
She turned and walked away, each step echoing with the weight of a plan yet to be set in motion.
She was ready.
Just the thought of what came next made her smile.
Wait for me, baby.