One Night in Valeria - Chapter 15: Chapter 15
You are reading One Night in Valeria, Chapter 15: Chapter 15. Read more chapters of One Night in Valeria.
The notebook still sat on her desk, untouched since she returned. Jessica hadn’t opened it again since Smith’s warning. Not because she was afraid of what she’d find but because she wasn’t ready for the weight that came with knowing more.
For once, she wanted silence.
She stood at the mirror, hair damp from a hot shower, wearing her mother’s old house sweater oversized, faded, soft in all the right places. The kind of thing that still smelled faintly of lavender, even after all these years.
Outside, Velaria continued spinning headlines flashing, whispers growing. But in here… time was still.
A knock at the door made her heart skip, but when she opened it, it wasn’t Liam. Not Smith. It was Mara, her mother’s childhood friend someone Jessica hadn’t seen since Klara’s funeral.
The woman had aged, but gently. Her eyes still held that same warmth. The same ache.
“I wasn’t sure you’d remember me,” Mara said, holding a small paper bag in her arms. Jessica stepped aside wordlessly, letting her in.
“I brought you tea,” she said as she moved to the kitchen. “Chamomile. Your mother’s favorite. You used to hate it.”
“I still kind of do,” Jessica murmured with a soft smile, taking the bag anyway.
They sat in the kitchen, two steaming mugs between them, and for a moment, neither spoke.
“I saw the photo,” Mara said eventually. “The one that’s everywhere now. Klara and Dorian. You in that red dress.”
Jessica looked down at her hands. “Everyone thinks I did it on purpose. That I wanted to cause a scene.”
“Maybe you did,” Mara said gently. “But that’s not a bad thing. Klara wore red the night she left the Velar estate. She said if they were going to shame her, she’d make sure they remembered what they lost.”
Jessica’s eyes prickled.
“She never told me anything. She just… kept the door closed on the past. Locked it.”
Mara reached over and took her hand.
“She was protecting you. But she was also ashamed. Not of you, never of you but of the way the world made her feel like she didn’t belong in it.”
They sat in silence for a while, sipping tea. Jessica’s thoughts were quieter now, less jagged.
“Do you think she ever regretted it?” Jessica asked, her voice small.
Mara smiled softly. “Klara? She regretted trusting Dorian, yes. But not you. Never you. She used to watch you sleep and say you were the only beautiful thing she ever made without fear.”
Jessica swallowed the lump rising in her throat.
Outside, the wind moved through the balcony garden, rustling the herbs she’d planted months ago when she first arrived. Back when she thought staying quiet was survival. Back when she thought love could grow in silence.
Now… everything was different.
Mara stood to leave, her hand resting briefly on Jessica’s shoulder.
“Klara never got to show the world who she really was,” she said, voice low. “Don’t let them steal that from you too.”
When the door closed, Jessica returned to the desk. She sat slowly, pulled the notebook toward her, and finally turned the next page.
Her mother’s handwriting danced across the yellowed paper.
A sketch. A name. A note.
“For J.H.
In case the world tries to bury you, bloom louder.”
A small smile broke through her sadness. Maybe her mother had prepared her for this all along.
For once, she wanted silence.
She stood at the mirror, hair damp from a hot shower, wearing her mother’s old house sweater oversized, faded, soft in all the right places. The kind of thing that still smelled faintly of lavender, even after all these years.
Outside, Velaria continued spinning headlines flashing, whispers growing. But in here… time was still.
A knock at the door made her heart skip, but when she opened it, it wasn’t Liam. Not Smith. It was Mara, her mother’s childhood friend someone Jessica hadn’t seen since Klara’s funeral.
The woman had aged, but gently. Her eyes still held that same warmth. The same ache.
“I wasn’t sure you’d remember me,” Mara said, holding a small paper bag in her arms. Jessica stepped aside wordlessly, letting her in.
“I brought you tea,” she said as she moved to the kitchen. “Chamomile. Your mother’s favorite. You used to hate it.”
“I still kind of do,” Jessica murmured with a soft smile, taking the bag anyway.
They sat in the kitchen, two steaming mugs between them, and for a moment, neither spoke.
“I saw the photo,” Mara said eventually. “The one that’s everywhere now. Klara and Dorian. You in that red dress.”
Jessica looked down at her hands. “Everyone thinks I did it on purpose. That I wanted to cause a scene.”
“Maybe you did,” Mara said gently. “But that’s not a bad thing. Klara wore red the night she left the Velar estate. She said if they were going to shame her, she’d make sure they remembered what they lost.”
Jessica’s eyes prickled.
“She never told me anything. She just… kept the door closed on the past. Locked it.”
Mara reached over and took her hand.
“She was protecting you. But she was also ashamed. Not of you, never of you but of the way the world made her feel like she didn’t belong in it.”
They sat in silence for a while, sipping tea. Jessica’s thoughts were quieter now, less jagged.
“Do you think she ever regretted it?” Jessica asked, her voice small.
Mara smiled softly. “Klara? She regretted trusting Dorian, yes. But not you. Never you. She used to watch you sleep and say you were the only beautiful thing she ever made without fear.”
Jessica swallowed the lump rising in her throat.
Outside, the wind moved through the balcony garden, rustling the herbs she’d planted months ago when she first arrived. Back when she thought staying quiet was survival. Back when she thought love could grow in silence.
Now… everything was different.
Mara stood to leave, her hand resting briefly on Jessica’s shoulder.
“Klara never got to show the world who she really was,” she said, voice low. “Don’t let them steal that from you too.”
When the door closed, Jessica returned to the desk. She sat slowly, pulled the notebook toward her, and finally turned the next page.
Her mother’s handwriting danced across the yellowed paper.
A sketch. A name. A note.
“For J.H.
In case the world tries to bury you, bloom louder.”
A small smile broke through her sadness. Maybe her mother had prepared her for this all along.
End of One Night in Valeria Chapter 15. Continue reading Chapter 16 or return to One Night in Valeria book page.