A knot of shadows

"L‑Lar… Laraa… how is this even possible?" Miss Dora's voice broke into shards as she stared at the swollen body lying before her. Her eyes flooded with tears that spilled unchecked down her cheeks. The corpse was bloated with water, pale and distorted, unrecognizable except for the faint trace of familiar features. It was a horrifying sight, one that crushed the breath from her chest.

Miss Dora's trembling hands flew to her mouth. She staggered, her legs refusing to hold her. The world tilted and blurred. A faint gasp escaped her lips before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed into David's arms.

"Mom!" David's shout was strangled. He cradled her, panic flashing through his dark eyes as he shouted for help. A paramedic rushed forward, but David insisted on taking her home himself. He carried her carefully, as though she might shatter, and the drive back to the mansion was cloaked in silence heavier than any words.

Miss Dora woke later in her bed, her lashes fluttering open to a ceiling she knew but could not recognize in her dazed state. "Lara…" she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Where's… Lara?"

David stood by the window, shoulders stiff, hands buried in his pockets. He turned slowly. "Mom… I—" His voice faltered. He couldn't lie. He couldn't soften it. "Lara is… gone."

The sob that left her was raw, scraping against the walls of the room. He sat beside her, gripping her cold hand as she trembled uncontrollably. He stayed until her breathing steadied, then rose to make the calls that tore him apart inside.

The Mourning Begins

Within hours, relatives filled the house like shadows drawn to a candle. Kay arrived too, her eyes wide and glistening as she stepped inside, dressed in soft pastels that screamed innocence. She moved through the house with calculated grace, offering hollow condolences, touching shoulders, holding hands.

Inside, her thoughts hissed:

Ah, enough of this show of grief. How long do I have to endure their cries? Lara is gone—because she got in my way. And now they all gather here to mourn her? Pathetic.

Miss Dora sat on the couch, her gaze empty, her face wet. Kay approached with Harry in her arms, swaying him gently.

"I—I can't believe she… did this to herself," Miss Dora said, her voice breaking again. "She… she wasn't like that. She can't… she can't do this…"

Kay's lips curved into a sympathetic frown. "I know, Aunt… I know…"

But in her mind, she seethed. Oh, stop it. Stop crying over her. She's gone, and you'll never know why. She died because she stuck her nose where it didn't belong. Now hush before I scream.

Mr. and Mrs. Micawber arrived after the burial, their faces pale. Mrs. Micawber hugged Miss Dora, her own eyes red-rimmed. "She died so young… too young," she whispered, brushing tears from her cheek.

The mourners spoke in hushed tones until one by one, they drifted away. Only Mr. and Mrs. Micawber remained behind to sit with Miss Dora as David busied himself with police reports and endless paperwork.

When they finally prepared to leave, Miss Dora's voice was a quiet murmur. "It's okay… you can go. I'll be fine."

Kay leaned down, wrapping her arms around Miss Dora with a softness that belied the storm inside her. "Take care, Aunt," she whispered, before gliding away, her expression unreadable.

A Month of Shadows

Days bled into each other. A month passed, and Miss Dora still floated in the numb haze of grief. Each morning she woke to Harry's tiny voice, each night she wept silently, clutching a scarf that once belonged to Lara. Harry grew more restless by the day—mischievous, loud, a little boy desperate for attention. Miss Dora, older and weary, struggled to keep up.

David, consumed by his business and investigations, came home late each night, exhausted.

I need help, Miss Dora thought one evening, sitting alone by the window. Her reflection stared back at her, eyes hollow, skin drawn. I can't do this alone. Harry needs more than I can give.

Her fingers hesitated over her phone before she dialed.

"Hello, this is me… Dora," she said softly when Mr. Micawber picked up.

"Miss Dora! How are you?" His voice was warm but tinged with concern.

"I… I'm trying," she admitted. "But I need to ask something, if you don't mind."

"Of course. What is it?"

She inhaled shakily. "You know I'm alone here with little Harry. I can't manage everything. I need someone with me. So… I wanted to ask—can we… change the wedding date? Can we bring it closer?"

There was a pause on the other end, and then a gentle, "What do you want exactly?"

Her heart thudded. "Can we… can we tie the knot this weekend?"

Silence, then a soft exhale. "Well… if that's what you want, Miss Dora… then let it be so."

"Thank you," she whispered, relief and guilt mingling. After the call ended, Mr. Micawber wasted no time in phoning Kay.

Kay's Triumph

Kay listened as Mr. Micawber explained Miss Dora's request. A slow smile spread across her lips, a glint of satisfaction lighting her eyes.

Finally… finally, they are doing something right for me. They all think I'm grieving. They think I'm fragile. But no, I win. I always win.

She agreed sweetly, her voice smooth as honey. "Of course. I have no problem with that at all."

A Son's Protest

That night, David returned home, shrugging off his jacket. He found his mother sitting alone on the couch, lost in thought.

"Mom… I'm home," he said softly.

She turned, eyes distant, then gestured for him to sit. She took his hand in hers. "I've decided… we'll tie the knot this weekend. Is that okay?"

David froze. "Mom… what are you saying? How is that even possible? And you decided without me?" His voice rose, sharp and incredulous.

"You spend all day at the office. What about Harry?" she cried. "I'm getting old, David. I can't handle him alone. He needs a mother. He needs parents who are present." Her voice cracked, and tears welled up.

"Mom, but—"

She cut him off with a trembling hand. "You agreed to this marriage because of him, right? Then let me finish what you started. I don't care what you think now. This is for him."

David's jaw tightened, his eyes dark with conflict. Finally, he turned away. "Fine. Do whatever you want." He stormed off to his room, leaving Miss Dora sitting with tears streaming silently down her face.

The Wedding Day

Monday bled into Tuesday, Tuesday into Friday, each day consumed by hurried preparations. By Saturday morning, the mansion buzzed with activity. Florists came and went. Dresses were steamed, tables arranged. Miss Dora forced a smile, burying her grief in the chaos.

"David!" she called as he descended the stairs. He was striking in a black suit, bow tie perfectly knotted, polished shoes gleaming, a sleek watch on his wrist. Her heart swelled with pride despite the ache in her chest.

He frowned. "Where's Harry?"

Miss Dora blinked, startled, and turned to the maid. "Where is Harry?"

"He's in the lawn, ma'am, playing with his toys," the maid replied.

David sighed, heading out to retrieve the boy. He scooped Harry into his arms, brushing dirt from his clothes, and whispered, "It's okay, buddy… Daddy's here." Then they left together for the ceremony.

The Ceremony

At the venue, Mr. Micawber and his family greeted them warmly. Mrs. Micawber smiled through her tears. "Kay is getting ready," she said softly.

Moments later, Kay descended the stairs. All eyes turned toward her. She wore a white embroidered mermaid gown that hugged her figure, a delicate crown of white flowers in her hair, and makeup so subtle it seemed angelic. She looked ethereal, radiant. And yet, in her heart, a storm raged.

Look at them… all admiring me. None of them know. None of them ever will.

David stood by the priest, his expression unreadable, cold even. Kay glided to his side, slipping her arm through his.

The priest began the vows. Miss Dora's eyes filled as she watched her son, convinced she was giving him—and Harry—a better future. Kay repeated the words with a smile, though her thoughts were far from holy.

Say yes, David. You belong to me now. Finally.

The ceremony concluded. The priest smiled, raising his hands. "Now you may kiss the bride."

David hesitated, his eyes flat, unyielding. Kay felt the sting of rejection even before it happened. She slid closer, her nails digging into his hand, pinching just enough to make him flinch. He stepped forward, forced by etiquette more than affection.

Kay tilted her head, her lips brushing his in the briefest of pecks. Gasps rippled through the guests, applause broke out, and Miss Dora wiped her tears of joy.

But David's lips were cold, his eyes distant.

Kay smiled for the crowd, hiding the darkness behind her lashes.

That's right… clap for me. Celebrate me. You'll never know the price of this victory.

And so, beneath the bright lights and murmured blessings, they were wed—a marriage bound not by love, but by shadows.