Dahlia and the Garden of Light - Chapter 71: Chapter 71

Smith Family Estate – Afternoon, Two Days After the Funeral
The Smith residence stood in sharp contrast to the Anderson estate — not in grandeur, but in chill. Pristine hedges, a spotless white driveway, the faint scent of roses and bleach. Everything was curated. Controlled. Cold.
Amy adjusted her navy dress and held Jack’s hand a little tighter.
“You don’t have to say much,” she murmured, “Just… stay close.”
Jack gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I’m with you. Always.”
The front door opened before they knocked.
“Amelia,” her mother said with a thin smile. “You’re late.”
Amy forced a polite nod. “Hello, Mother.”
Jack held out his hand. “Jack Rivers. A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Smith.”
She took it briefly. “Charmed, I’m sure.” Her gaze swept over Jack’s simple jacket and tousled curls. “And you’re… with Amelia?”
Jack smiled easily. “She’s with me, actually.”
Amy blinked, a flicker of amusement in her eyes.
From inside came the sound of laughter — her brothers, Blake and Daniel, already at the piano, trying to one-up each other with jazz riffs and snide comments about “baby sister finally showing up.”
The youngest sister, Elise — poised in a lemon dress — stepped forward and tilted her head. “Amy, you’re here,” she said sweetly, then glanced at Jack. “And you brought your… friend.”
“Fiancé,” Jack said with a grin.
Elise blinked. “Oh. You didn’t tell us.”
“No one asked,” Amy said dryly.
The room grew quieter. Their father cleared his throat in the hallway. “Amy. It’s been a while.”
“Two years,” she said. “Not that anyone noticed.”
Her mother raised a brow. “Must we start this now? There are guests.”
“There are always guests,” Amy muttered.
—
Later – The Dining Room
The long table glittered with polished silverware and untouched wine glasses. Amy sat at the far end, Jack beside her. Elise giggled as she recounted an “accident” from their childhood — a broken violin string that Amy supposedly snapped on purpose.
“And she still blames me,” Elise pouted. “Even though she was always jealous of my lessons.”
Amy looked up, her voice calm. “I stopped violin because no one came to my recitals.”
There was a beat of silence.
Daniel rolled his eyes. “You were always so… dramatic.”
Jack leaned in, voice low but firm. “Funny, Amy doesn’t strike me as dramatic. She strikes me as deeply kind. And quiet. Which is probably why none of you noticed when she stopped coming home.”
Elise bristled. “Excuse me—”
“No,” Amy said, setting her fork down. “Let him speak.”
Jack looked down the table. “You know, the Andersons would’ve had a chair ready, even if she hadn’t RSVP’d. You left her out of family newsletters, forgot birthdays, skipped her graduation. She built a new family because her old one never turned to look back.”
Mr. Smith frowned. “We supported her. We paid for her university.”
“You paid,” Amy said. “You didn’t show up. That’s not the same.”
Silence fell like frost.
Her mother cleared her throat. “Well. I hope you at least told Dahlia and the others where you were today.”
Amy looked away. “No. This part of my story isn’t theirs. Not yet.”
After Dinner
Amy stepped onto the patio alone, arms folded tightly across her stomach. The glass doors closed behind her with a quiet thud. Beyond the carefully trimmed hedges, the sky was fading into mauve.
Jack followed a few moments later, holding two mugs of tea. He passed one to her.
“I think your brother just tried to convince me he invented sourdough,” Jack said with a crooked smile.
Amy sighed. “That would be Daniel. He also thinks he invented the phrase ‘work-life balance.’”
They sat on the edge of a planter, the ceramic mugs warm between their palms.
From inside, the low hum of conversation returned. Her father spoke in a clipped tone to someone on the phone, probably about quarterly returns. Her mother’s laughter followed, artificial and bright.
“You okay?” Jack asked gently.
Amy took a long sip. “No. But I don’t think I’ve been okay around them since I was fourteen.”
Jack reached for her hand again.
“…Elise used to copy my assignments,” she murmured. “And when I tried to call her out, she said I was jealous. I told my parents. They said I was being unkind to my sister. And when she broke my violin string the night before my scholarship audition, they said it was probably an accident.”
Jack listened without interruption.
“She’d lie to get attention. And I stopped trying to explain myself. Eventually, I just… faded.”
There was a silence before Jack replied.
“Then let me say it, out loud, so the stars can carry it: You deserved better. All the birthdays. All the songs. All the claps after every note you played. You deserved all of it.”
Amy blinked rapidly, the tears hot behind her lashes.
“They made me feel like I had to earn space,” she whispered. “Like my worth was conditional.”
Jack leaned closer. “Then let’s build a place together where your presence is a given. Not a question.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
“Someday,” she said, “I want to write a song just for me. Just once. No applause. Just breath and strings and space.”
He smiled. “I’d like to hear that.”
—
Back Inside – The Smith Drawing Room
Blake swirled the ice in his glass. “You think she’s changed?”
Daniel shrugged. “She always had this martyr complex.”
“She just wants to be seen,” Elise murmured. “I get it, but it’s exhausting.”
Mrs. Smith frowned. “Well, at least she’s made… friends. That fiancé of hers has some charm.”
“She looks happy,” Mr. Smith said, almost as an afterthought.
The room fell silent at that. For once, even Elise didn’t reply.