The pale morning light filtered in through the bay window, falling across the cream walls of the new family house in Manchester. It was quiet—eerily so. A gentle breeze swayed the sheer curtains, but the air in Sophia's room was thick with tension. She sat at her vanity table, lightly dabbing powder beneath her eyes. The mirror reflected more than just her carefully applied makeup; it showed the panic barely hidden behind her calm.
Her hand froze mid-motion.
Today was Catarina's wedding.
And they would be there… the Smith Group.
Her throat tightened. Could she skip it? Feign a cold? Pretend she hadn't remembered the date?
But no. Catarina was her friend. A real one. She couldn't just vanish.
She stared at her reflection—confused, unsettled—until her mother stepped in, arms folded, voice firm yet warm.
"Stop thinking about not going to Catarina's wedding, Sophia."
Jessica leaned against the doorway, her voice carrying the quiet strength only a mother could master. "Stop thinking about not going to Catarina's wedding, Sophia."
Sophia sighed, placing down her powder puff. She reached for her artificial lashes and gently pressed one into place, blinking slowly as if that could delay the inevitable.
"Are you worried you'll see Raymond?" Jessica asked, walking further into the room.
Sophia gave a small, tired nod and then another sigh as she adjusted the second lash. "I'm just… unprepared for unnecessary questions."
Jessica's tone sharpened just slightly. "Unnecessary questions that concern your engagement with Grayson?"
Sophia turned halfway in her seat. "Mum, I don't care about Raymond. Sincerely."
Jessica didn't respond with words at first. Instead, she pulled something from the pocket of her knitted cardigan and placed it on the dressing table with gentle finality. A pale envelope—creased slightly, bearing Sophia's name in Grayson's unmistakable handwriting.
Sophia narrowed her eyes. "What's that?"
"Grayson dropped this off."
She froze. "Grayson? Why didn't he come give it to me himself?"
Jessica's voice dipped, heavy with something unreadable. "Grayson is gone, daughter."
Sophia rose abruptly, knocking over a tube of mascara. "What are you talking about, Mother?" she asked, breath catching.
She snatched the letter like it might vanish and tore it open.
Dear Sophie,
I have waited for one thing in this world, and it is for you to be genuinely happy… even if it is not with me, I will still choose your happiness.
You will only find me after you have found your genuine happiness.
For now, don't bother looking for me.
Her hands trembled. The words blurred through the tears that welled up in her eyes.
"Grayson should have waited to hear from me!" she cried out.
Jessica's voice was soft but unyielding. "What difference would it have made? No matter how you try to hide or subdue it, we all see it, Sophia."
"Stop saying all this! In fact, I'm not going to any wedding!" she snapped, clutching the letter to her chest. "I'll go and look for Grayson!"
"What point are you trying to prove?" Jessica demanded, stepping closer. "I understand your anger—that you weren't accepted because of your status—but how do all of these concerns involve Raymond? That boy has done nothing wrong to you! And hurting him… is doing enough damage to yourself."
"Mum, I know you planned this with Grayson!" Sophia accused, eyes blazing.
"I am your mother, Sophia! I love you more than any point you are trying to prove!"
"I'm going nowhere, Mother! I'm not going to any wedding!"
Jessica's voice cracked. "Then don't! Do what you want! After all, you've never listened to me!"
The air in the room pulsed with silence. Then—her phone rang. The ringtone barely cut through the tension. She glanced down.
Catarina.
She hesitated, then reluctantly answered. "Hello, Catarina."
"Will you still be able to come, Sophia?" Catarina's voice was soft, uncertain. "I didn't tell them I'm in touch with you again. If it feels too uncomfortable for you, you don't have to go through the stress, Sophia."
Sophia closed her eyes and exhaled. "I already booked a flight to LCY. I'll arrive shortly, Catarina."
"I'm sorry I had to put you through all this, Sophia."
"We're friends. Stop being sorry and start your makeup, girl."
Catarina chuckled, a sweet, nervous laugh. "I'm nervous, Sophia."
She smiled faintly, tears still clinging to her lashes. "I'll be there soon to take your nerves away, girl."
They burst into laughter, a warm thread of hope weaving between them. When the call ended, Jessica leaned against the wall, a hand covering her mouth to stifle her own chuckle.
"Well… I guess dear Catarina called at the best time."
Sophia gave her mother a long glare through the mirror.
"You all should just leave me alone."
***
Ryan's hands trembled slightly as Raymond adjusted his necktie for the third time. The polished floor reflected the light from the tall windows, and the quiet hum of traffic beyond reminded them of just how fast London moved—even when your life felt frozen.
There were tears in their eyes, though neither of them would say it aloud. There didn't need to be words—just the bond between brothers, unspoken but fierce.
Raymond pulled back, staring at his younger brother with pride glowing in his expression.
Ryan gave a weak smile. "You're not going to cry, are you?"
"Shut up," Raymond muttered, clearing his throat.
Then came Anthony's voice from across the room, ever the cheeky youngest. "You're too in love, man. Calm down!"
Laughter erupted, cutting through the tension like a warm breeze. Mark entered next, already holding a glass of water and wearing his usual stern expression. "You lot should be thinking of the vows, not jokes."
Anthony grinned. "Mark will never change. He's been like this since prep school. Serious face on, even when we were all trying to build a treehouse."
"That's because none of you knew how to use a hammer," Mark replied, smirking for once.
Raymond shook his head, chuckling. "And you refused to let us copy your homework anytime dad gave us spellings"
"I was trying to protect your future" Mark said matter-of-factly.
Ryan smiled, brushing imaginary lint from his suit. "Still, you were the glue. The hard, nagging glue. While Raymond was our model child—always telling us to brush our teeth, say our prayers, respect mum and dad."
Raymond shrugged, unbothered. "And someone had to. You lot were wild."
They burst into laughter
"Speak for yourself," Anthony scoffed. "I turned out just fine."
"You're nineteen, Anthony," Mark said, raising a brow. "Talk to us after you've done your first savings from what you got from allowance"
They burst into laughter.
Raymond grimaced. "I can't remember when last I received allowance from dad! ".
They burst into laughter.
Anthony narrowed his eyes in mock offense. "Why does everyone keep bringing up allowance with me?"
"Because you still live off our Netflix," Ryan teased.
Laughter again. Rich, honest, healing laughter.
This was what it meant to be brothers.
Flawed. Loud. Occasionally infuriating.
But always present—always tethered together by the invisible thread of shared history.
And on a day like this, nothing else mattered.