Lies

The rest of the day blurred past like static. Class. Conversations. Laughter I barely heard. It all felt far away.

By the time I got back to my room, the walls felt too close. I kicked off my shoes, dumped my bag by the desk, and sat cross-legged on the bed, phone still heavy in my hand.

I opened the message again.Friday night. 7PM. Ward Estate Banquet Hall. Formal.

No RSVP option. No question mark. Just a demand.

A summons.

I stared at the screen until the letters blurred, then tossed the phone aside like it burned. It landed face-down on the floor. I didn’t pick it up.

My family name opened doors. Everyone knew that. Professors didn’t ask questions. Students avoided confrontation. I had the kind of privilege that made most problems disappear before they started.

But it came with a price. And he was collecting.

There was a knock at the door.

Not soft like Eren. Not rushed like Zack. Just one knock. Firm. Detached.

I already knew who it was.

I opened the door and found Zander standing there, dressed like he came from somewhere expensive. Black slacks, navy button-up rolled at the sleeves. His expression unreadable as always.

“You got the message,” he said. Not a question.

I leaned on the doorframe. “You could’ve warned me.”

He didn’t flinch. “He said we all go. No excuses.”

“He’s not my real dad,” I muttered. “You always remind me.”

Zander’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to it. “You still carry the name. That’s all that matters to him.”

“Yeah. And to you?”

He sighed. “Look, just wear the dress. Play your part. It’ll be over in a few hours.”

I laughed bitterly. “You mean lie through my teeth while he pretends we’re not broken?”

“Exactly,” he said, with the same hollow calm he used at funerals.

And maybe that’s what Friday would be.

Another performance. Another funeral for whatever pieces of myself I hadn’t buried yet.

stood in front of the mirror that night, towel-wrapped hair dripping down my back, staring at the mess of dresses Zack had dumped on my bed.

“Why do you even have these?” I asked, holding up a dark velvet one that looked like it belonged to a 1920s funeral home.

“Stole them from Mikasa’s closet,” Zack said from my floor, lying stomach-down and scrolling through his phone like this wasn’t a crisis. “Well—‘borrowed.’ She won’t miss them.”

“Mikasa’s a size two.”

“And you’re emotionally repressed. We all make sacrifices.”

I dropped the dress on his back.

He groaned dramatically and shoved it off. “You know, you’re acting like it’s a death sentence. It’s just a banquet.”

“It is a death sentence,” I muttered. “It’s my dad’s event.”

Zack stilled. “Oh. That kind of banquet.”

I nodded grimly.

He sat up, seriousness flickering in his eyes for the first time. “Want me to come?”

I blinked. “What?”

“To the banquet. I could pretend to be your emotional support stylist or, I don’t know, your fake boyfriend if your dad tries to marry you off to a politician’s son.”

I almost smiled. “Tempting.”

“You can bring Eren,” he added after a beat. “If you want. Screw your dad.”

I thought of Eren’s hand brushing mine. His voice when he said ‘then stop wondering.’

“I can’t,” I said quietly.

Zack tilted his head. “Because of your dad… or because it feels too real?”

I didn’t answer.

He didn’t push.

Instead, he threw a red dress at me. “Try this one. It says I hate being here but I look better than everyone else anyway.”

I laughed—actually laughed—and he beamed.

Maybe Friday night was going to suck. Maybe I’d be standing next to Zander in a room full of people pretending we weren’t raised on secrets and expensive trauma.

But at least I'd look good doing it.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

The hotel ballroom smelled like old money and fake charm.

Gold chandeliers hung from the ceiling like frozen fireworks, and the floors were polished enough to see my own self-loathing staring back. Waiters in stiff white shirts moved like ghosts between clinking glasses and forced laughter. Everyone wore the same expression: polished, perfect, and pretending.

Zander was already there, surrounded by a group of older men in suits, all laughing too hard at something he’d said. He looked relaxed. Effortless. Like he belonged here. Like we hadn’t grown up in the same house.

I hovered at the edge of the room, wrapped in a red dress that Zack had declared "violent in the best way," heels pinching my feet and my spine too straight.

My dad hadn’t arrived yet — which meant the room still felt breathable. Barely.

“Want a drink?” Zander’s voice came from behind, casually amused.

I turned. “Shouldn’t you be charming our nation’s elite?”

“I needed a break,” he said, handing me a glass. “Your resting bitch face was scaring off the caterers.”

I sipped. “Good.”

He looked at me for a beat. “You look… like you hate being here.”

“Good again.”

He didn’t smile. Just studied me. “You’re not gonna pull another stunt like the pool thing, right?”

I raised a brow. “If Emory shows up, I’m not making promises.”

Zander gave a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair. “You know he invited her.”

My fingers clenched around the stem of the glass. “Of course he did.”

“Y/N—”

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

We stood in silence, watching people glide past like mannequins come to life. Somewhere, violins started playing. It was too soft. Too safe. Too rehearsed.

Zander shifted beside me, his voice lower now. “Dad’s gonna expect you to talk tonight.”

“I figured.”

“He also wants us to stay the whole time. Smile. Network. Family optics.”

I let out a laugh so cold it could crack glass. “Family optics.”

He looked away. “I didn’t want to come either.”

That made me pause.

I glanced at him. “Then why are you here?”

Zander hesitated. “Because if I don’t show up, they talk. If you don’t show up, they wonder.”

He meant Dad. He meant reputation. He meant damage control disguised as duty.

“I hate this,” I muttered.

“I know.”

Another pause.

“I saw what you did to Emory,” he added quietly.

I stiffened.

“I’m not saying she didn’t deserve a splash,” he said, “but you’re on thin ice already. People notice when we make waves.”

I met his eyes, tired. “Then maybe they should stop pretending this family’s a still lake.”

Zander didn’t reply.

Just nodded once, slow and somber, before walking back into the crowd.

And I stood alone again.

But this time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be.

Maybe I wanted someone to come find me — to say this place sucked too.To look at me like I wasn’t another piece of decor in a dying empire.

And when I looked toward the ballroom doors—

Eren was standing there.

Not in a suit. Not in a tie.Just black slacks, messy hair, hands in his pockets, and that look that always unraveled me.

He saw me. And smiled.

Finally, something real in a room built on nothing but masks.

My eyes snapped away from Eren the second I saw him.

I turned just enough to make it seem like I hadn't noticed, heart tightening with something sharp and stupid. I didn’t want my dad to see me smiling like that. Not here. Not at his event. Not with Eren looking the way he did — like trouble dressed up in defiance.

I lifted the glass to my lips and stared ahead, faking indifference.

“Y/N,” came that voice — low, composed, and all business. “You look presentable.”

I resisted the urge to flinch. That was his version of a compliment.

“Thanks,” I said flatly.

He stepped into view with that same practiced stride, flanked by my mother — regal in her icy blue gown — and Lily, who nearly tripped trying to catch up.

My throat softened when I saw her.

“Lily,” I said, crouching down just slightly as she ran over and hugged me tight around the waist.

“You’re late,” she whispered into the fabric of my dress.

I smiled, smoothing her hair. “Fashionably.”

She grinned at me like I hung the stars. God, she didn’t know what this place did to people. Not yet. She still believed in family dinners and fairy tales. In people keeping their promises.

I’d die before I let them change that.

“Where were you hiding?” my mom asked coolly, eyes scanning me for flaws, not affection.

“Here,” I said. “Avoiding small talk and egos.”

She didn’t laugh. She never did. Just gave me that tight-lipped nod and turned to greet some man behind us.

My dad didn’t look at me again. He just placed a firm hand on Lily’s back and said, “You remember the rules. Sit with us. Smile. Be useful.”

I hated how used to that I was.

“Yes, sir,” I muttered.

But as we walked toward the table he’d claimed like a throne, I glanced one last time toward the door.

Eren was gone.

And for some reason…that hurt more than it should have.

The banquet hall glittered with chandeliers and polished egos.

I walked a step behind my parents, one hand gently clasped around Lily’s. She was chattering about the floral centerpieces and the chocolate fountains, her excitement bubbling out of her like she hadn’t noticed the frost in the air. Or maybe she had and was choosing to ignore it.

Smart girl.

Our assigned table was at the front—of course. Dad liked being visible. Respected. Feared. Whatever made his name feel heavier than it already was.

I slid into the chair beside Lily, spine straight, hands in my lap like a good little doll. Mom sat across from me, expression tight. She never ate at these things. She just sipped at champagne like it was enough to live off.

Dad stood for a moment, speaking to someone in hushed tones. Political, important. Boring.

I let my eyes wander. Scanned the room for someone I actually wanted to talk to.

Eren wasn’t in sight.

Neither was Zack. Or Connie. Or anyone from the house, really. Just suits and gowns and carefully curated smiles. The elite of the elite. And me—somewhere in the middle. A pawn dressed like a queen.

I reached for the water glass, only for my hand to freeze when I saw the name card beside mine.

Zander.

My breath hitched.

“Is Zander… coming?” I asked, voice flat but laced with something sharp.

Mom didn’t look up. “Your father insisted.”

Of course he did.

I swallowed the bitterness and forced my gaze back to the stage where some speaker had begun a dull monologue about legacy and ambition. All I could hear was the roar in my ears.

Zander.Here.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see him. It was that I didn’t know which version of him would show up.

The cold one who never called me by name?

Or the brother who once carried me miles through mud and thorns just because I cried?

Lily tugged on my sleeve. “Do I look okay?”

I looked at her—really looked—and something softened in me again.

“You look beautiful,” I whispered. “The most beautiful person in this room.”

She beamed. My chest ached.

I could survive this. For her.

Even if Zander sat down next to me and said nothing at all.Even if Eren never walked through that door.

I just had to keep breathing.Smile.Be useful.

The chatter in the banquet hall dimmed as Dad stood, the polished smile on his face as sharp as a knife.

He cleared his throat, commanding the room’s attention like a seasoned showman.

“I want to take a moment to recognize two exceptional young adults here tonight—my son, Zander, and my daughter,” he said, nodding directly at me with that fake warmth that made my skin crawl.

He continued, voice booming through the room, “They’ve set an example for all the college kids out there. No parties, no distractions, no reckless behavior. They’ve shown maturity beyond their years.”

The room filled with polite applause, but I could feel the weight of the lie settle heavy in the air.

I kept my face neutral, but inside, everything twisted.

Zander caught my eye across the table — his jaw tight, eyes flickering with something that wasn’t pride.

Because we both knew the truth.

The late nights sneaking out, the parties we couldn’t avoid, the whispered rumors.

The moments when we were anything but perfect.

Dad’s praise was a performance — and we were just props.

Lily squeezed my hand gently, her wide eyes watching me.

I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth and forced a smile.

“Thank you, Dad,” I said quietly, my voice steady enough to fool everyone except Zander.

Because he was the only one who mattered in that moment.

The only one who knew how far we really strayed from the perfect image Dad wanted the world to see.

Dad’s smile stayed fixed, but I caught the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes — the kind that comes from controlling the narrative. He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands neatly as if the evening had already gone according to plan.

Zander shifted in his seat beside me, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. I could feel the tension radiating off him, the silent frustration we both shared but refused to voice.

Lily, ever innocent, glanced up at Dad with admiration. I wanted to shield her from the cracks beneath the surface, the lies and the undercurrents that twisted everything around us.

The waiter moved quietly between tables, pouring wine into crystal glasses and setting down plates of food that smelled rich and foreign. The chatter resumed softly, but my mind was elsewhere — on the weight of Dad’s words, the expectations that felt more like chains.

Mom caught my eye from across the table, her expression unreadable. She smiled politely, but I wondered if she saw through the facade too. If she knew how fragile everything really was.

A low murmur floated through the room about upcoming family plans, charity events, and connections we were supposed to maintain. All the things Dad cared about — appearances, power, control.

I forced my gaze back to my plate, fingers tightening around my fork.

Because no matter how loud the applause, how bright the spotlight, the truth remained ours alone.