The echo of Mrs. Langston's heels faded up the grand staircase, followed by the soft closing of a bedroom door.
Silence settled like dust.
Alicia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Well, that went… better than usual."
Scottie snorted from the banister. "If that's better, I'm never inviting friends over."
Kendrick shot him a look — half amusement, half exhaustion. "Go to bed, both of you."
Alicia hesitated, glancing at Elsie with quiet sympathy. "She'll calm down," she said softly. "She always does. It's just—she hates being embarrassed."
Elsie nodded faintly, though her voice came out lower than she intended. "It's fine. I should probably head home anyway."
But Kendrick shook his head. "Stay."
The word came out firm, quiet, but full of something she couldn't quite name. Alicia gave him a knowing look before tugging Scottie up the stairs.
"Try not to wake Mom again," she teased, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
When the hallway finally emptied, only the low hum of the chandelier remained.
Kendrick loosened his tie, letting out a breath. "I'm sorry about that."
Elsie crossed her arms, leaning against the marble column. "You don't need to apologize for her."
"I do," he said. "She had no right to talk to you that way."
Elsie's lips curved in a small, sad smile. "She's just… protecting what she thinks is hers."
He stepped closer. "You mean me?"
Her eyes flicked up to meet his. "I mean her image. You were never yours to protect."
For a heartbeat, neither moved. The faint shimmer of the chandelier reflected in her eyes, and Kendrick realized how tired she looked — not fragile, but worn from years of holding herself too still around people like his mother.
"Elsie," he said softly, "I didn't expect the party to end like this."
She laughed lightly, almost bitterly. "You mean the yelling or the public matchmaking?"
"Both."
"Then I guess it's a night full of surprises."
He chuckled despite himself, then grew quiet again. "Alicia mentioned there was some plan. Something she and May were involved in?"
Elsie hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "Your sister didn't want you to face tonight alone. She thought if I handled the arrangements, your mom wouldn't explode when you didn't show."
He frowned. "So you knew she'd be furious."
"I hoped she wouldn't be." Elsie exhaled. "I thought maybe if the party went smoothly, she'd focus on her friends and not your absence."
Kendrick studied her. "You did all that for me?"
She met his gaze steadily. "For Alicia, too. For all of you, really. This family… It's not easy to love from the outside."
Something softened in his eyes. He took a step closer, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face — the same familiar, almost careless gesture that carried years of unspoken meaning.
"She shouldn't have called you what she did," he murmured. "You didn't deserve that."
"I've been called worse," she said quietly. "But not by someone I respect."
That silenced him. For a moment, all they could hear was the faint hum of the lights and the distant ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall.
Then Kendrick spoke, voice low and careful.
"I don't care what anyone says. You did right by me tonight."
Elsie looked away, blinking fast. "You always say that, Kendrick. And then your mother reminds me why I shouldn't believe you."
He started to respond, but she stepped back, her tone soft but resolute.
"Maybe she's right about one thing," she said. "I am thick-faced — for still thinking we could ever fit in the same story."
Her words hung in the air like a quiet confession.
Before he could stop her, she turned, heading for the door. He didn't call out — not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't find the right words to make her stay.
The weight of the moment settled heavily on Kendrick's shoulders, a mixture of regret and confusion swirling within him. He had always known that his mother could be harsh, her words sharp as blades, but seeing it affect Elsie so deeply gnawed at him.
As he stood there, the echo of the door's soft closing lingered—a finality that felt like an unanswered question hanging in the air. He replayed the last moments in his head, each glance, each unspoken word, amplifying the longing in his chest. He wished he could reach out, to bridge the widening gap between them, but instead, he stood frozen, paralyzed by the fear of saying the wrong thing.
His thoughts were interrupted by Scottie's voice from above, a playful tease masking concern. But Kendrick felt far from playful; the lightness of the party had evaporated, leaving behind a heavy silence that felt like a suffocating shroud.
"Trouble?" he murmured under his breath, wishing it were just that—something he could laugh off. It had become painfully clear that this trouble ran deeper, entwined with the complexity of family, expectations, and heartache.
Kendrick leaned against the column, staring at the door, wishing he could take back his mother's hurtful words, wishing he could find a way to change Elsie's mind. She had always been a steady presence, the calm in his chaotic world. But how could he convince her of that when everything seemed stacked against them?
Everything about her—the way she carried herself, the kindness in her eyes, even the way she laughed—made it impossible for him to let go. He started to doubt if staying quiet was really the best choice, if maybe there was a chance to explain, to make her understand that she was more than just an outsider to his family.
But the moment passed, and with it, the chance to say what was in his heart. In the quiet of the empty hallway, all he could feel was the ache of unspoken feelings and the bittersweet sting of a night that had started with hope but had unraveled into something unrecognizable.
Behind him, the muffled sounds of their family echoed—a stark reminder that, despite the chaos, life continued. He couldn't help but wish for a way to intertwine their stories, to rewrite the narrative that felt so rigid and unforgiving.
As Kendrick finally lifted his gaze, he felt the weight of the evening settle in, a challenging reminder that love demands resilience, even when it feels like the world is against you.