Lauren flashed a bright, innocent smile as she posed with Caius for pictures, making sure everyone could hear her say, "So good to see you again, Caius."
Heather kept her face still, neutral. A mask, but inside, her stomach was twisting.
"Lauren's here and Heather hasn't even hugged her sister," a woman said behind her.
"She was raised without manners."
The words slipped through her like needles. But she didn't turn, she didn't defend herself, couldn't dare talk back to Lauren.
Lauren eventually made her way to her—slow, poised, smiling for the crowd.
"Heather," she said, arms out. She pulled her in for a hug before Heather could move. Her perfume was overpowering.
Heather's hands remained still. She hadn't seen or spoken Lauren in years, not since she left the country.
"You look amazing," Lauren said sweetly, stepping back to inspect her like a mannequin. "Honestly, this is the best I've seen you."
She only smiled slightly. She was bracing herself for what was about to come.
"And this dress—oh! Channel Summer Sunset limited edition, right?" Lauren grinned. "I wore that last week. Seeing it again makes me feel like I'm looking at a mini-me."
Heather didn't flinch. She just stared, silently. Lauren wasn't the nicest in the world, but she couldn't complain about it. Her stepmother had always told her, to accept Lauren the way she is. And that people like her are meant to be pampered, despite how bad they treat others.
"She's trying so hard to be Lauren."
"She even copied the hair."
Heather didn't respond. The comments stung, but they always came. Especially from Lauren's fans.
But her fans around them noticed.
"She's trying to be Lauren."
"She wants to be her so badly."
"Oh stop," Lauren laughed lightly. "She's my sister. She's allowed to be inspired by me."
"You're such a sweetheart, Lauren."
"She should be grateful for the inspiration."
Cameras clicked again.
Heather turned her head slightly—just enough to catch Caius watching Lauren from a few feet away, eyes locked on her. He was still staring at Lauren, like no one else in the room existed. Lauren noticed and leaned into it.
She leaned in toward him, just enough to make it look natural, like she belonged beside him. Then she gently rubbed her shoulder.
"My shoulders are killing me," she said. "Probably from all that work on set this week."
Caius's friends crowded around him, still talking, still laughing, but he stepped closer to Lauren. "Want me to fix it?" he asked, casual.
Heather's heart sank. He never offered that to her. He placed his hand lightly on her shoulder and pressed once.
"Oh my God, Cai. Right there," Lauren gasped, just loud enough for the nearest guests to hear.
Laughter rippled through the group.
"They have such chemistry," someone said.
"They're made for each other."
Heather was still standing there, motionless, smiling politely.
"That's completely inappropriate. Show some respect, Lauren. You're not his wife. Don't you have any shame?" Penelope, Heather's friend spoke up.
Lauren blinked innocently. "Sorry, Heather." She put a hand to her chest. "Didn't mean to upset anyone. "I was just joking. Heather knows that, right?"
"She's such a good person."
Caius glanced at Heather with annoyance. "It's fine. We're all fine."
Lauren turned back to Heather. Her smile was syrupy sweet. "Do you mind, Heather Bo Beather?" she asked, dragging out the old nickname.
Of course she minded.
But Heather just shook her head. Because if she said anything, they'd twist her words. Her fans always did.
"See?" someone said nearby. "She doesn't even care. People need to chill."
Penelope glared at him.
Then Caius leaned toward Lauren again. She laughed, fingers brushing his chest like it was all harmless fun.
Caius's hand still rested near Lauren's shoulder. The way she tilted her head, laughing softly at something he said. How natural it all looked, like it was always meant to be them.
Caius instinctively turned to her, she blinked quickly, once, twice. She had been staring too long. She looked away quickly, letting her eyes move across the room, scanning faces, pretending to admire the chandeliers, the flower arrangements, the empty wine glasses. She hummed lowly to herself, a tune she didn't recognize, but anything to distract from them.
She tapped her fingers lightly against her forearm, smiled at no one, pretended as if she was just bored. But it only lasted so long. Her lungs felt tight, and her face ached from holding itself together.
Caius's gaze shifted irritably. Heather inhaled, she could tell he didn't want her there, so she turned slowly, grabbing her purse and taking careful steps toward the exit. She avoided eye contact, praying no one would notice her disappearing. If she could just make it out—just a few feet more—she could breathe.
Lauren's voice called out, soft, innocent, and sharp as a needle.
"Damnit," she muttered under her breath.
All eyes were on her now. Some were curious, some clearly relieved. And Caius was staring, his lips slightly parted in disappointment or boredom—she couldn't tell. His friends stopped mid-laugh. A few women whispered behind flutes of champagne.
"No," she said, too quietly at first. She cleared her throat, tried again. "I'm just... I don't feel too well."
Lauren tilted her head, stepping forward with just enough concern to make it look like care.
"Because of me?" she asked, hand to her chest. "I hope not. That would break my heart."
Heather smiled faintly, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Of course not. I'm just tired, Lauren."
Lauren took another step, her eyes scanning Heather like she could see through her. "If you're really not hurt," she said, voice still syrupy sweet, "then stay. Prove me wrong."
Heather held her breath.
She couldn't stay. Not with Lauren standing inches from Caius, looking like she belonged there, not with the guests whispering again, and certainly not when everything inside her was screaming to get out.
She shook her head softly. "I can't."
Lauren's smile didn't falter. "Oh," she said simply. "I thought so."
Heather turned before her voice could betray her, before her eyes spilled what she'd fought so hard to hold in.
"She's so sensitive."
"Did you see her face? She's totally jealous."
"Poor thing can't handle the heat."
"She's always been dramatic."
Lauren smirked, brushing invisible lint from Caius's shirt. "You should check on her," she said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
With an annoyed sigh, Caius followed.
[Outside the building]
Heather stood, waiting for the car, wiping her face with trembling fingers.
"Would you stop being dramatic?" Caius called out.
She stopped, turning around. Her mascara was smudged, but she didn't care anymore.
"Dramatic?" she said quietly.
"Yes. You always make everything about you."
She let out a hollow laugh. "I dressed up tonight—for you. I tried. And all I got was you hanging on my stepsister like I don't even exist."
He tilted his head. "It took you hours to get ready. For what? I've never seen someone take so long to get ready, with such little outcome."
She took a shaky breath. "You're making me feel like I'm not enough."
"Because you're not," he said with no emotion, just the truth as he saw it.
She blinked. Tears fell freely now.
He looked at her like she was a stranger. "Are you seriously crying?"
She couldn't speak. A lump rose in her throat.
He kept his hands in his pocket. "I don't care if you cry. It doesn't change anything. You know how I feel about Lauren. She's here now. You can go."
"I don't want you, Heather. I never have. And I don't think I ever will."
The words cut deeper than anything before.
Heather turned towards the car which just pulled up. She slowly opened the car door and slid into the seat, shutting the door behind her.
She sobbed into her hands, her whole body shaking. She didn't care about the makeup or the people watching anymore.
A sharp pain hit her in the stomach. She gasped, one hand moving to her abdomen.
It hurt, but she didn't looked down. She already knew.
But Caius didn't know.