The morning sun peeked through the curtains as Dorothy got ready for work, her usual grace undisturbed by the quietness around the house. She walked into the dining room with her usual grace. The aroma of eggs and toast lingered in the air, but the warmth of the morning felt... off.
Everyone was already seated, Uncle Josh reading the paper, Aunt Sarah quietly buttering her bread, and Theo slowly stirring his tea. But no one looked up. No "good morning," no familiar smiles. Not even a glance.
Dorothy pulled out her chair slowly and sat. A hollow tension hung in the air.
She cleared her throat gently. "Good morning," she said, trying to smile.
Silence.
She turned to her uncle. "Uncle Josh? Is everything okay?"
He sighed, folding the paper with controlled force. He didn't look at her when he said, "Dorothy… please. Not now. I don't want to hear a word from you. Let's just eat in peace."
Her heart sank. "What… what have I done?"
He finally looked at her. There was disappointment in his eyes. "You know very well what you've done. Or do you want to pretend now too?"
Dorothy's voice cracked, soft and confused. "Is this… is this because of last night? Because I went to dinner with Nathaniel?"
Still avoiding her eyes, he muttered, "Among other things."
"I'm sorry if I upset you," she said quickly. "There was traffic, I got home a bit late, but I didn't mean to—"
"That's not the point, Dorothy!" Theo snapped suddenly, pushing his chair back. His voice was louder than she'd ever heard it. "You don't get it. You never do."
She turned to him, eyes wide. "Theo,what are you talking about?"
He stood, looking like he had kept a thousand words bottled up for too long. "We've grown up together. I've been there for you. Every step. Every fight. Every fall. And then Nathaniel shows up out of nowhere, and suddenly, none of it matters? One smile from him, and you're saying yes to marriage and…?"
Dorothy froze. "Wait… how do you even know—?"
"You think Dorinda didn't tell us?" he cut her off bitterly. "She told us everything. How quick you were to throw yourself at him and all about the others too."
Her lips trembled. "That's not true—"
Theo stepped back, wounded. "I was the fool who thought I mattered to you. But now I know. I never did."
He stormed away from the table.
"Theo, wait—please!"
But he was gone.
Dorothy turned to her uncle, desperate. "Uncle Josh, I—"
"I don't want to hear it," he said, standing slowly. "You've made your choices. I only pray you know what you're doing."
Aunt Sarah followed him out, barely meeting Dorothy's gaze.
Dorinda remained, casually sipping her tea.
Dorothy sat stunned, her world tilting.
"Bon appétit, sister," Dorinda said sweetly, placing her teacup down with a smug clink. "Looks like your cup's finally full."
Dorothy turned to her, confused and tearful.
"Oh, don't look so surprised," Dorinda added with a smile. "You should know by now truth always comes out eventually."
Dorothy wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand and stormed after Dorinda, grabbing her arm roughly.
"What did you tell them?" she demanded, voice shaking. "What lies did you make up this time? Tell me, Dorinda!"
Her voice cracked into a scream. "Tell me what you said to them!"
Dorinda jerked her hand free, glaring. "Let go of me! What are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about! What poison did you feed them?"
Dorinda scoffed. "Oh, Dorothy, please. I didn't have to say anything. They just finally saw you for who you really are — a flirt, a manipulator… a prostitute, even."
The words hit like a slap. Dorothy's breath caught in her throat.
"You little snake," she spat, and without thinking, she slapped Dorinda hard across the face. "You lying, jealous slut."
Dorinda staggered back, clutching her cheek in shock — but then her eyes darted toward the hallway. She had heard the footsteps before Dorothy did.
And right on cue, she fell to the ground in tears, wailing.
Mr. Josh and Aunt Sarah rushed in.
"Dorothy!" Mr. Josh boomed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"She—she attacked me," Dorinda sobbed, curling up dramatically on the floor. "I didn't even say anything! She's just always hated me. I—I try so hard, and this is what I get."
"Dorothy," Sarah said, her voice hard and shaking, "I can't believe what I'm seeing. Hitting your own sister? A sick girl who has always tried to love you?"
"She's not my sister!" Dorothy snapped, her voice rising with fury. "She's a venomous liar, and you're all too blind to see it!"
"Enough!" Mr. Josh barked. "You've finally shown your true colors. We've tolerated your pride, your coldness — but this? You're out of control."
Mrs. Sarah knelt beside Dorinda, brushing her hair back with care. "You have no shame," she said quietly to Dorothy. "I even had to cover for you… for what happened five years ago. In Pari."
Dorothy froze.
The world tilted.
Her throat tightened like she'd swallowed glass.
"You had no right to bring that up," she whispered.
But her aunt didn't respond. She just wrapped her arms around Dorinda protectively, as though shielding her from the monster Dorothy had suddenly become.
With trembling lips and eyes burning with pain, Dorothy turned and walked out — out of the hallway, out of the house. She didn't look back.
The air outside hit her face like a slap. The sunlight felt colder than the room she'd just left.
How dare Aunt Sarah mention Pari. How dare she speak of something so private, something that had broken Dorothy and buried her for years — all swept under the rug like it had never mattered, like she had never mattered.
Dorothy clenched her fists. They wanted to believe Dorinda's lies? They wanted to call her a monster?
Fine.