Chapter 3 - Whispers in the Fabric
Z
The week tore past like a fever dream. The small town of Maplewood was already suffocating under the sticky, unseasonable warmth of early May, a heat that brought out the smell of damp earth and blooming dogwoods. Everywhere I went, prom hung in the air like an inescapable shadow. At the grocery store, mothers crowded the flower aisle discussing corsages; at the gas station, teenagers clustered around shiny rented sedans, laughing loudly with the reckless confidence of youth.
I spent those days walking on eggshells inside my own house. Hazel barely spoke to me after our fight. She moved through the kitchen like a phantom, taking an apple or a glass of water back to her room, her eyes locked on the floorboards, avoiding my gaze entirely. The silence between us wasn't just quiet; it was heavy, filled with the unspoken memory of Mason and the terrible wall she had erected around herself.
On Wednesday afternoon, I went to the local pharmacy to pick up a prescription. As I walked down the hair care aisle, a voice cut through the soft background music of the store—sharp, nasal, and entirely unbothered by who might hear.
"I mean, did you see the way her mother was dragging her around Maple Street last week?"
I froze, my hand hovering over a bottle of shampoo. I recognized that voice immediately. It belonged to Victoria Vance, a prominent member of the local country club and the mother of Chloe Vance—the girl who had made Hazel’s high school life a living nightmare.
"It was almost sad," Victoria continued, snickering to another woman standing beside her. "The girl has expanded to twice her size since her brother’s accident. Wearing those dreadful, oversized sweatshirts. And Mave actually thought she could fit into a sample gown at the boutique! Sarah told me they had to politely turn them away because they simply didn't carry anything that... dramatic in scale. Chloe said Hazel hasn't even registered for the grand march. Thank goodness. It saves everyone the awkwardness."
My blood ran cold, then boiled instantly. The sheer, casual cruelty of it—discussing my grieving, broken seventeen-year-old daughter as if she were a public eye sore—shattered whatever restraint I had left.
I rounded the corner of the aisle, my basket clutched so tightly in my fingers that the plastic groaned. "Victoria."
Victoria Vance whirled around, her smile faltering for a fraction of a second before settling back into a polished, fake mask of sympathy. "Oh! Mave! Hi, dear. We were just... talking about how difficult this season must be for you. With Mason, and..."
"You were talking about my daughter," I said, my voice steady despite the furious pounding in my ears. "And you were lying."
The other woman stepped back nervously, but Victoria tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. "Now, Mave, let's not make a scene. We all know Hazel has been going through a very... complicated phase since the accident. We only want what's best for her. Perhaps staying home is for the best. Prom can be so overwhelming for girls who don't... fit in."
"Hazel doesn't need your pity, Victoria," I said, stepping closer until I could smell her expensive perfume. "And she certainly doesn't need your daughter's venom. Hazel will be at prom. And when she walks through those doors, your daughter won't even be in the same atmosphere."
Victoria let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Is that so? And who, pray tell, is making her dress? I heard the local shops refused her."
"Someone who actually knows what beauty looks like," I snapped. I turned on my heel and walked out of the store, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
When I reached my car, I slumped over the steering wheel, trembling violently. I had just thrown down a gauntlet I had no power to back up. I had put Hazel right back into the line of fire, sacrificing her privacy to satisfy my own bitter pride. If Eli’s dress was a disaster, or if Hazel refused to put it on, Victoria Vance and her daughter would tear my girl to pieces.
I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and dialed Eli. He picked up on the second ring.
"Eli," I gasped out. "I did something terrible."
"What happened?" his voice was dead calm, surrounded by the rhythmic, mechanical hum of his mother’s sewing machine in the background.
"I ran into Victoria Vance. I lost my temper. I told her Hazel was coming to prom."
May you like
There was a long silence on the line. For a terrifying moment, I thought Eli was going to tell me I had ruined everything.
Then, he spoke, his voice lower, darker, and harder than I had ever heard it before. "Good," he said. "Let them look. I just finished the train."
