The house pulsed with a forced gaiety, a parade of wealth parading through Nathan's opulent halls, their gifts extravagant.
Megara, a stark contrast to the glittering throng, felt a quiet unease, a dissonance in the symphony of the rich. For Nathan's sake, she endured, a silent observer in his gilded cage.
She settled into an empty seat, her gaze drawn to Nathan's subtle strain as he navigated the social minefield. A fleeting wave, a practiced smile, and the last guest was ushered out, the facade momentarily crumbling.
Nathan surged towards her, his relief palpable. "Meg, you came!" He enveloped her in a hug, pressing a kiss to her hand. "You look…breathtaking."
A blush warmed Megara's cheeks. "Just bringing your mother's gift," she murmured, lifting the bag. "She seems busy."
Nathan dismissed her hesitation with a shrug. "Nonsense. She adores you. Go on." He gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "I have someone I want you to meet later."
"Alright," Megara conceded, making her way toward Mrs. Nathan, the gift a tangible offering in the sea of superficiality.
Megara approached Mrs. Santiago, Nathan's mother, with a hesitant step, attempting to project an air of nonchalance. However, Mrs. Santiago's face lit up, her excitement irrepressible. She enveloped Megara in a warm, tight hug, followed by a flurry of cheek-kisses from her friends.
Mrs. Santiago, beaming, released Megara. "Megara, darling, you came! I'm absolutely thrilled to see you," she exclaimed, guiding her towards a nearby couch. "Nathan was in a panic, convinced you wouldn't make it."
Megara offered a shy smile, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I wouldn't have missed it. And, happy birthday," she said, presenting a gift bag. "This is from my father, and this one is from me. I hope you like it."
Mrs. Santiago scoffed playfully, her surprise evident. "I love anything you give me, sweet girl. Your presence alone is the greatest gift." She paused, her tone softening. "How is your father? It's been so long. Is everything alright?" She observed Megara's slight unease.
"Yes, ma'am, he's fine," Megara replied quickly, though politely. "He's just been very busy lately, working late."
Megara's gaze swept across the room, searching for Nathan. When she finally spotted him, her heart sank. He wasn't alone; he was with another girl. A flush of heat rose to her cheeks, and a stinging sensation pricked her eyes. She fought back the urge to cry, a wave of anger and self-reproach washing over her. She told herself it was a misunderstanding, a mere facade, but a knot of dread tightened in her stomach, awaiting the inevitable confirmation of the girl's identity. Mrs. Santiago, observing Megara's sudden shift in demeanor, regarded her with a searching look. Megara, feeling exposed and vulnerable, excused herself, eager to escape further scrutiny."
FEW MINUTES LATER
A few minutes crawled by. Megara, face still damp, emerged from the bathroom. The echo of cruel laughter lingered – girls mocking her dress, whispering "pitiful beggar." A raw, burning rage ignited within her, a culmination of feeling betrayed, belittled, and utterly mocked.
This wasn't a new revelation; she'd always known the privileged would wield their disdain freely. But today, the weight of it felt unbearable. As she turned to leave, a hand gently touched her shoulder. Nathan. She tried to brush him off, but he turned her to face him, a soft, questioning smile on his lips.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. "You're leaving? Just as the service is about to start." He attempted a playful scolding. "Stay a little longer, please? For me?"
Megara's defenses crumbled. Her blue eyes, shimmering with a mix of affection and deep insecurity, met his. "No, Nathan. I have to go. I... I can't be a burden." The words caught in her throat, a silent sob threatening to break free.
Nathan's eyes widened, surprise and a hint of hurt flickering within them. "A burden? Megara, what are you talking about? You're my best friend. You're never a burden. Please, just stay. Enjoy the service." He spoke with a quiet urgency, trying to erase the pain he saw in her eyes.
Megara was poised to accept the offer when Nathan's name rang out. She glanced over his shoulder, her heart sinking. It was Brenda Louise, the school's second most brilliant and obscenely wealthy student. Megara, despite her own academic prowess, couldn't compete with Brenda's raw power or polished beauty. Seeing Brenda clinging to Nathan, her lips pressed possessively against his, ignited a cold fury within Megara.
Brenda's gaze landed on Megara, dripping with disdain. "Megara, honestly, your dress? How utterly… pedestrian."
Megara's face flushed, a mix of humiliation and rising anger. "And you, Brenda, look like a gaudy ornament begging to be plucked from a discount Christmas tree."
Brenda recoiled, momentarily stunned by the unexpected retort. Recovering quickly, she latched onto Nathan's arm, her eyes wide and pleading. "Darling, she's being so cruel! I was just teasing, but she's taking it so personally."
Nathan's gaze, once warm, turned glacial as he looked at Megara. "Megara, please be civil to Brenda. She's my girlfriend. I was hoping you'd be happy for us. We're engaged, and my mother approves."
A hollow laugh escaped Megara's lips. Her eyes, now cold and sharp, flickered between Brenda and Nathan. "Bless your union? After this?"
"It would mean a lot," Nathan said, pulling Brenda closer. "But if you refuse, so be it."
Megara scoffed. "Refuse? Nathan, consider your wish granted. I won't bless your union. And as for our friendship? It's over." She turned and walked away, her steps firm, her heart a shattered mirror.
Megara returned home, her heart shattered. Nathan's manipulation and the realization of the wealthy's callousness left her in tears. Despite her father's unspoken concern about her visibly distressed state, she insisted her birthday outing was fine. Her prayers became a desperate plea for escape from Nathan and the looming threat of Brendan's cruelty, a plea she directed to God. When her father learned the truth, he offered quiet comfort, not anger.
A knock interrupted the morning stillness. A man in a dark suit, holding a briefcase, stood at the door. His piercing gaze made her uneasy. "Megara Smith?" he asked, his voice stern.
After confirming her identity, he revealed he was from Royal Von High School, delivering a letter and a bag. Megara's hands trembled as she took them.
Mr. Smith, sensing her distress, quietly took the letter. "What's this, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice gentle. He read aloud, his voice gaining incredulity: "Miss Megara, after rigorous evaluation, you are awarded the Royal Von High scholarship, effective immediately."
Megara gasped, a wave of disbelief and joy washing over her. She embraced her father, her tears now a torrent of relief. "I can't believe it!" she sobbed.
"I told you, sweetie," he reassured her, stroking her back. "Anything is possible for God. Focus on your studies, and leave the rest to me." He then examined the bag, revealing her new school uniform.
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