Chapter 2: Magnolia Room, Magnolia Heartbreak

The church was packed, the air heavy with lilies and whispered condolences. Dad stood at the pulpit, voice breaking at all the right moments. I watched from the front pew, my hands folded tight in my lap.

At the wake, I watched Dad shouting and pretending to be heartbroken, but a flicker of joy crossed his eyes, and I felt a sharp pain in my chest.

I caught it—a tiny, triumphant smile, gone in an instant. It made me want to scream. Instead, I clenched my fists until my nails left half-moons in my palms.

Lucas noticed I was upset and squeezed my shoulder.

He crouched beside me, his hand warm and steady on my shoulder. "Don’t worry, Ev. I’m here. I’ll protect you forever."

"Evelyn, I’ll protect you forever."

I said nothing, just quietly slid a little further away.

The promise sounded hollow, and I didn’t trust it—not anymore. I shifted in my seat, putting space between us.

After seeing Dad’s real face, I believed Mom even more: "Men are only reliable when pigs fly."

Her words echoed in my mind, bitter and sharp. I wanted to believe Lucas. I really did. But the world felt different now—darker, colder.

When Lucas meets the heroine, he’ll change too.

I pictured it, the way his eyes would light up, the way he’d forget me. It hurt, but I steeled myself. Better to expect nothing.

Depending on him is a waste of time.

I let the thought settle, hard and cold. I was on my own now.

Everyone says I’ve changed.

They whisper about me in the hallway, voices just low enough to pretend I can’t hear. I catch words—"colder," "withdrawn," "not herself." Maybe they’re right.

But they tell themselves it’s just because I’m grieving.

It’s easier for them to believe that than to face the truth. I let them think what they want. It’s safer that way.

Lucas had classes to finish, and with finals coming up, he went back to campus as soon as the service ended.

He hugged me one last time, promising to call. I watched his car disappear down the driveway, feeling emptier than ever.

I twisted the edge of my shirt, sneering.

The fabric bunched in my hands, my knuckles white. I bit back a laugh. Seventeen years with Mom, and all she got was twenty-seven days of mourning.

In this town, the mourning period’s just twenty-seven days.

That’s all she was worth, apparently. I wondered if anyone would remember her a year from now.

Mom raised him for seventeen years, and it all boiled down to less than a month.

I tried not to dwell on it, but the thought stuck, sour and unshakable.

But I didn’t have time to argue.

There were bigger things coming, and I needed to be ready.

Because the heroine was about to show up.

I could feel it, like a storm on the horizon. The air in the house changed, tense and expectant.

With Mom gone, Dad couldn’t wait. As soon as the mourning period ended, he brought Savannah Lin into the house.

No hesitation. No shame. He acted like it was the most natural thing in the world, his arm around her shoulder as he introduced her to the staff.

"This is Savannah Lin, daughter of my old friend, Colonel Lin."

His voice was warm, full of pride. I watched him, searching for any sign of guilt. There was none.

"She’ll be living here from now on. She’s our guest, so treat her right."

He smiled at everyone, his politician’s charm turned up to eleven. The staff nodded, their faces polite masks.

The housekeeper and the rest nodded and smiled.

I caught a few side glances, but no one dared question him. The help knows which side their bread is buttered on.

Dad looked at me: "Evelyn, Savannah’s a few years older than you. You’re almost grown up—if you need advice, ask her."

His tone was pointed, a warning wrapped in fatherly concern. I clenched my jaw, refusing to rise to the bait.

I finally got to see Savannah up close.

She wore a simple sundress, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. There was a warmth to her—something open and honest, especially in those big, bright eyes.

Her eyes met mine, and she smiled—a real, open smile. For a second, I almost smiled back.

She greeted me easily, not nervous at all about moving into a stranger’s house.

She stuck out her hand, her grip firm. "Hi, Evelyn. I’ve heard so much about you." Her voice was warm, practiced. It was clear she’d done this before.

No wonder—Dad had given her all the confidence in the world.

He hovered nearby, ready to jump in if she so much as frowned. I felt invisible, standing in my own living room.

I remembered Mom’s words: as soon as she arrives, keep quiet and keep my head down.

I took a breath, counted to five, and let the moment pass. No reason to give them what they wanted.

So I just nodded and stood back.

I pasted on a polite smile, folding my hands behind my back. Let them think I was being gracious.

Dad frowned, about to scold me for being cold, but Savannah yawned: "Mr. Harper, where will I stay?"

She stretched, casual as you please, like she owned the place. Dad’s frown melted instantly.

He immediately smiled: "We’ve got it ready. The Sunroom Suite on the east side gets the best light, with a pretty garden—it’s real nice."

He gestured grandly, like he was showing off a prize. The staff perked up, ready to jump at his command.

"But I like open spaces. You know I grew up on the prairie, used to running free. I don’t care for all that fancy stuff."

She said it with a little laugh, tugging at Dad’s sleeve like a kid asking for a treat.

She blinked and tugged at Dad’s sleeve.

Her eyes sparkled, full of mischief. I wondered if she practiced that look in the mirror.

"Mr. Harper, does your house have something like that? If not, I’d rather go back to my dad’s old place."

She pouted, just a little, and I saw Dad’s resolve waver. He hated disappointing her.

"Don’t be silly, Savannah. That place is falling apart, and there’s nobody left to take care of you. You’re staying here."

He sounded so sure, so final. I felt my stomach twist.

He doted on her, then coughed to cover it up and looked at me.

His eyes sharpened, and I braced myself for what was coming next.

"Evelyn, go pack up and let Savannah have your room."

There it was. The order. My hands curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms.

My hands clenched.

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. For a second, I thought about refusing. But Mom’s warning echoed in my mind.

Mom said if Savannah wanted my things, I couldn’t refuse.

She also said at our first meeting, I’d be forced to give up the room I’d had my whole life.

And sure enough, only my Magnolia Room fit her wishes.

I remembered the way the morning light slanted through the windows. The scent of magnolias in bloom just outside. That room was a piece of me.

But is fate really unchangeable?

I looked Dad in the eye and tried to say:

I swallowed, forcing my voice steady. "Dad, couldn’t we find another—"

"Enough." He cut me off, face turning hard.

His jaw tightened, and he wouldn’t meet my eyes. I could tell he was embarrassed, maybe even ashamed, but he hid it behind anger.

Maybe he was embarrassed in front of Savannah, because he snapped: