Thorns Beneath the Roses

The sky had faded to a muted lavender, streaks of orange retreating beneath the horizon. In the garden behind the grand reception hall, the laughter and music from the party felt distant — like a dream Rosita wasn’t part of.

The blooms were fragrant, cascading down trellises and hedges in a parade of whites and pastels, carefully curated for the wedding. But even their beauty couldn’t silence the storm inside her.

She stood alone beside the fountain, its soft trickle a balm against her pounding heart.

“You always liked to sulk alone, didn’t you?” came a voice that made her skin crawl.

Rebekah.

Rosita turned, slowly. Her sister stood a few feet away in a silver gown that hugged her curves, her red lips curved into a smirk.

“Rebekah,” Rosita said with cold politeness. “Come to ruin my wedding night too?”

Rebekah laughed softly. “Oh, Rosita, don’t be dramatic. I just wanted to congratulate you. You looked… decent, for once.”

Rosita’s eyes narrowed. “Save the pleasantries. I know why you’re here. You just wanted to see if I’d cry walking down the aisle in a dress you probably prayed I’d never wear.”

Rebekah’s expression didn’t change, but the tension in her jaw was a subtle crack. “I was only ever trying to protect you. You were always so… reckless. Someone had to step in before you completely disgraced the family.”

“Protect me?” Rosita’s voice rose, sharp and trembling. “You lied, Rebekah. You told Peter — our father — that I was promiscuous, that I had defiled myself before marriage. You made him hate me.”

“You did that to yourself,” Rebekah said icily. “You always wanted attention. Always chasing after things you didn’t understand.”

“No.” Rosita took a step forward, eyes burning. “You wanted him to hate me. You wanted to be the perfect daughter, the angel, the one he loved. And you did everything to make sure I looked like a mistake. You twisted everything I said, turned every look into a sin. And now? You’re standing here, smiling like you’ve won.”

“I did win,” Rebekah said, her voice suddenly low. “Look at you. Married to a man who barely knows you. No family here truly supporting you. I’ve got Peter’s respect, Leonardo’s love. You? You have a pity wedding.”

Rosita’s lip trembled, but her resolve stayed firm.

“You think I don’t know about you and Ryder?” she said, her words deliberate. “The little secret rendezvous behind closed doors? You and I both know your halo’s rusted. It’s only a matter of time before the truth comes out.”

Rebekah’s eyes widened for a split second, then narrowed with venom. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I wouldn’t have to,” Rosita whispered. “Ryder’s not exactly discreet. And when Peter finds out that his ‘perfect’ daughter isn’t so saintly after all, maybe he’ll finally look in the mirror and realize who the real disgrace is.”

Rebekah took a step closer, her voice barely a hiss. “You’re still the same naive, jealous little girl.”

“And you’re still the same snake in silk,” Rosita snapped.

They stood there in silence, the distant clinking of glasses and laughter from the reception drifting through the hedges.

Finally, Rosita turned to leave.

“You may have fooled everyone for now,” she said without looking back, “but masks always fall, Rebekah. And when yours does, I hope you rot in the hell you’ve made for yourself.”

Without waiting for a reply, Rosita walked away, her steps slow but steady.