Chapter 5: The Garden’s Ghost

10 minutes later…

The cold bites through my thin dress as I sit in the garden, flicking a broken twig back and forth like it holds the answers to life’s mysteries. My thoughts? A mess. My emotions? A rollercoaster on steroids. One moment, I’m replaying his deep brown eyes and the way his lips crashed against mine; the next, I’m spiraling into what the hell just happened mode. Was it real? Was I dreaming? Did I hallucinate my way into a steamy romance-novel-meets-tragedy scenario?

Buzz. My phone vibrates, yanking me out of my daze.

Nick: Where the hell are you, you little shit? Get back here. NOW.

Oh great. The Lycan version of a rabid dog is after me again. My stomach knots tighter than my last failed attempt at a braid. I stand up, tossing the twig like it’s cursed, and sprint toward the mansion like my life depends on it. Spoiler alert: it does.

…

I skid to a stop at the back door, chest heaving, trying not to sound like I just outran a pack of wolves. Deep breaths, girl. You’ve got this.

Sliding in unnoticed is the goal, but the universe clearly hates me tonight. The ballroom is buzzing with laughter, glittering gowns, and the smell of expensive perfume. It’s like walking into a scene from Downton Abbey, minus the British accents. I duck behind a waiter carrying champagne, praying Nick hasn’t spotted me.

No such luck. I feel the heat of his glare before I even see him. Nick, the tyrant himself, is bulldozing through the crowd, his face a symphony of rage. My instincts scream run, but my legs are jelly.

“AGATHA!” he bellows, loud enough to silence a third of the room. A waiter trips, spilling wine on someone’s fur coat. Chaos erupts.

Just as Nick gets within strangling distance, Lilly’s voice cuts through like a sugar-coated buzzsaw.

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”

Nick freezes. Everyone freezes. All eyes snap to Lilly, standing on the stage, glowing in her gold dress like the queen of the world. My sister, the perfect one, with her perfect smile and perfect life.

I take a breath, melting into the shadows while she prattles on about love and destiny. She’s introducing her fiancé, who—get this—is apparently the love of her life. The crowd coos like a pack of trained seals. I’m just about to roll my eyes into another dimension when she says his name.

“Luis,” she beams, “the man who has stolen my heart.”

Luis? My brain short-circuits. The crowd parts like the Red Sea, and there he is.

It’s him. The man from the garden. The man who kissed me like the world was ending. The man whose name I definitely didn’t know until two seconds ago.

My jaw hits the floor. My stomach does a backflip, landing somewhere near my knees. I’m paralyzed, staring at him as he walks toward Lilly, smiling that same stupid, swoon-worthy smile that now feels like a punch to the gut.

Oh. My. Goddess.

My mind is spinning faster than a hamster on a caffeine binge. Did he know? Did he lie? Or worse—was I just some random garden fling he tossed away like a used napkin? The betrayal stings sharper than one of Nick’s slaps, but mixed with it is an even worse feeling: guilt.

I kissed my sister’s fiancé. My perfect, saintly sister. The one who’s now beaming at Luis like he’s a Greek god reincarnated.

I can’t move. Can’t breathe. The room feels like it’s closing in on me. Somewhere in the background, Lilly is gushing about Luis, their future, their soon fairy-tale wedding. My heart pounds so hard it feels like it might break my ribs. I need air.

Backing away, I crash into a waiter carrying hors d'oeuvres. Mini quiches go flying. Someone gasps, and I mumble an apology before bolting toward the exit.

Outside, the cold slaps me in the face like a wake-up call. I gulp in the air, pacing like a lunatic. “Get it together, Agatha,” I whisper to myself, my breath fogging up in the freezing night. “You kissed him. You didn’t know. It’s not your fault.”

But it doesn’t help. Guilt twists in my stomach like a dagger. I picture Lilly’s face, glowing with happiness. I picture Luis, his stupid handsome face smiling like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

And then I picture the kiss.

Damn it. Why did it have to feel so good?

A rustling noise makes me whip around. Luis is standing there, hands in his pockets, looking every bit like the tragic hero of some forbidden love story. His eyes lock onto mine, and just like in the garden, I feel that stupid, magnetic pull.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks, his voice low, careful.

“What are you doing out here?” I shoot back, my tone sharper than I intended. I cross my arms, trying to look angry instead of flustered. Spoiler: it’s not working.

“I saw you leave,” he says, stepping closer. “You looked… upset.”

Oh, don’t you dare play the concerned card, Luis. I glare at him, but my traitorous heart skips a beat anyway. “Upset? Gee, I don’t know, Luis. Maybe it’s because I just found out you’re engaged to my sister!” My voice rises with each word until I’m practically shouting. “Care to explain that little detail?”

He looks down, guilt flashing across his face. “I didn’t plan for this to happen. I didn’t know Lilly was your sister”

“Which part?” I snap. “Kissing me or forgetting to mention you’re getting married?”

“Both,” he admits, and for a second, I think I see regret in his eyes. But it’s not enough. Not even close.

“You’re unbelievable,” I say, shaking my head. “Does Lilly know you make a habit of kissing random girls in gardens, or is that just a fun surprise for later?”

His jaw tightens. “You’re not random.”

“Oh, great!” I throw my hands up. “I’m not random. I feel so much better now. Thanks, Luis. That totally fixes everything.”

He steps closer, his voice dropping. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. But… it did. And I can’t stop thinking about it.”

My heart stutters. His words, his tone—it’s like he’s pulling me back into that garden, back to that moment. But I can’t go there. Not again.

“Well, you’d better start,” I say, my voice trembling. “Because Lilly doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve you.”

I turn on my heel and march back toward the mansion, my chest tight with a mix of anger, guilt, and something I don’t want to admit is still longing.

Inside, the ballroom is as loud and glittering as before, but I don’t care. My world feels like it’s falling apart, one secret at a time.

And the worst part? I don’t know if I’ll survive the wreckage.