29. Daphne

Chapter twenty-nine

Daphne

I t’s been a week since Alex and I broke up.

The pain still stabs my chest whenever I think of him, but I have to continue with my classes. After all, no matter how badly I just want to lie in bed and cry all day, I’ll lose my scholarship if I don’t keep up my grades.

Unfortunately, I’m in strings class with Celeste, Eden, and Victoria right now. I say unfortunately because I don’t want to see them, not even Eden. I have my class with Alex tomorrow, but I think I will end up skipping that one. If I can hardly bear the sight of his ex-girlfriend and sister, how can I bear the sight of him ?

Spoiler alert: I can’t.

At least I’ve been practicing my harp every day. All week, I’ve been working on a piece I composed myself. Since I can’t stop the feelings inside of me, I’ve put them down on paper. So, when my professor tells us that he wants to hear us warm up, one by one before we practice for our upcoming Spring Concert, I get an idea.

The strings feel cold under my fingers. I glance up at the professor, his face all hard lines and impatient eyes. “Can I play something of my own?”

He curtly nods. The room’s silent as I sit before my harp, the familiar curve of its neck against my shoulder. I place my hands on the strings, take a breath, and begin.

The tune spills out slow and sad, notes echoing in the practice hall. It’s mine, this song, full of the aches that keep me awake at night. My fingers know the way; they move without thought. The music is smooth, filling up the spaces where everything else falls short. Namely, my hollowed-out heart.

I don’t look at them as I play. Them being Eden, Victoria, and Celeste. Instead, I opt to keep my eyes closed. Still, I feel Celeste’s stare, heavy with her mascara and perfectly lined lips. She’s done up like she’s not here for music but for a runway. She looks amazing, even if she’d rather be anywhere but here. Such as Alex’s bed.

On contrast, my sweatpants are too big, and my t-shirt is slipping off one shoulder. Plus, I didn’t bother with a brush this morning, making my unkempt hair messy.

I focus back on the harp, let the melody carry me away from the room, from the weight of their gazes. Just me and the music, as it should be .

The sad melody wraps around me, an echo of my heart. Each note drips with the sorrow of missing Alex, the ache so deep I can’t push it away. It’s there, in the music, the longing for him, the love that’s tangled up in my soul.

Through my music, I express my hope for his happiness, even if it means he’s with Celeste. But deep down, it hurts. A small voice whispers that I should be enough for him, that I deserve to be his everything.

A tear betrays me and slips down my cheek. I let it fall. My hands don’t stop; they can’t. They dance over the strings, true to the rhythm, the lament of my own composition.

Through blurred vision, I see Victoria. She watches me, not with scorn but something else. Intrigue? No time to figure it out. I play on, finishing what I’ve started. The last note hangs in the air, heavy, then fades.

The room is silent.

I blink back the moisture in my eyes and fix my gaze on the harp. I can’t look at them yet. Not now.

“Wow,” Eden’s voice breaks through first, rising from her seat and clapping. Her applause is thunderous in the quiet room. “Oh my God, that was amazing!” She’s all wide eyes and genuine smile, completely different from Celeste’s narrowed glare .

Celeste’s tongue makes a sharp click, cutting through the moment like a blade. “Victoria is ten times better.” It’s venom wrapped in velvet.

I blink, taken aback, because for once, I didn’t create the piece to compete with anyone. It’s nothing but an expression of my feelings.

Surprisingly, Victoria’s voice, usually so cold, contradicts her friend. “No, I’m not.” There’s no mistaking the honesty there, the raw acknowledgment. Our eyes meet, and confusion tangles with the warmth of unexpected praise. “That was better than I’ve ever played.”

My cheeks warm, unsure how to process this, especially coming from Victoria. Victoria seems to be lost in thought for a moment, her eyes gazing into the distance. When she turns back to me, her eyes hold a hint of sadness, but it’s quickly replaced by a stern expression as she addresses Celeste. Victoria changes the subject. “How are you feeling with the breakup, Celeste?”

I’ve tried not to notice, but all class long, Victoria has been gazing back and forth between Celeste and me as if comparing. Thankfully for me, I don’t care enough to give a fuck anymore. She thinks I’m trash; I get it.

Celeste tosses her hair, feigning nonchalance. “Amazing, as always.” My chest pinches at the thought that she’s doing well after losing Alex. I lost him too, and I’m a wreck. She continues, “Going to date someone from Alex’s team, make him jealous enough to come crawling back.”

Something dark flashes across Victoria’s face. The chair grates against the floor as she stands, anger radiating off her like heat. “Games,” she spits out, the word heavy with disgust. “My brother deserves more than fucking immature, manipulative games.”

A collective gasp sweeps through the room as the untouchable Victoria Whitmore reveals a side of herself we’ve never seen before. Her protectiveness of her brother is worlds apart to the facade she’s always presented.

Celeste’s voice is laced with a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “Alex and I have always had a complicated relationship. We push each other’s buttons, but we always find our way back to each other. There’s no need to get so worked up about it, Vic.”

I can almost hear the crack in her voice, see the arrogance crumbling. She’s reaching, trying to hold on to something that’s slipping through her fingers like sand.

Victoria’s hands are fists at her sides, knuckles white as bone. “Stay the fuck away from my brother, Celeste. I mean it.” Her voice is low, a growl almost, filled with a warning that sends chills down my spine. “He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t love you. I’m sorry, but it’s true.” There’s a pause, a glimmer of regret maybe, but it’s gone as fast as it appeared. “If you fuck with his head, I will never speak to you again.”

The words hang heavy in the air, thick with something unsaid. Anger? Fear? Love? I can’t tell. My heart pounds, loud in my ears. This isn’t just between them anymore. It’s a line drawn, and I’m somehow on one side of it without even moving.

I think back to what Victoria said. Alex doesn’t love Celeste. Can that be true? I don’t know what scenario is more heartbreaking: Alex ruining our relationship for a woman he doesn’t love, or Alex pushing Celeste, the true love his life, away just like he did me.

No. Victoria has it all wrong. Alex does love Celeste.

Because the contrast is too soul crushing. Even if he doesn’t love Celeste, he feels more for her than he does me . That hurts too. I’d rather imagine he choose his future wife over me than choose a woman he doesn’t actually have romantic feelings for. For if that’s true, then at most, I’m third best.

Celeste’s heels click angrily against the floor as she hightails it out of the room. The door slams shut, echoing in the sudden silence. I’m left staring at the empty space she occupied, a whiff of her expensive perfume still hanging in the air.

My brow furrows. What just happened?

I glance around the room, catching eyes with Victoria. She drops into her chair, her gaze fixed on me. Her face is a mask, giving nothing away. Yet those brown eyes of hers, they’re intense like she’s trying to communicate something without words.

“Class dismissed,” the professor says, breaking the spell. His voice is flat and disinterested. He’s already packing up his papers, oblivious to the drama that unfolded.

The other students start to shuffle out, their whispers filling the room, but Victoria stays seated, her stare unwavering. I can’t read her. It’s like she’s looking at me but also through me, lost in whatever thoughts are racing behind those eyes.

I gather my harp and music sheet. There’s tension in the air, heavy and unspoken, making me want to escape this room, this building, this moment. Still, I can’t move just yet, not while Victoria’s looking at me like that.

We remain frozen in place, locked in a tense standoff. Her expression is neutral, but I can practically feel the wheels turning in her head as she evaluates me. Then, without a word, she abruptly stands and leaves me behind.

As all Whitmores do.