Ashes and Orchids
The chapel’s stained glass windows cast fractured beams of color onto the white marble floor, like bruises left by light. Rows of people sat stiffly in silence, the occasional cough or rustle punctuating the stillness. A priest murmured half-remembered blessings. A violinist played something mournful.
Selena stood at the front, untouched by the atmosphere of grief.
The photograph at the altar stared back at her. Her biological father. A man whose memory clung to her like dust she could never fully wipe away.
elara hart
“You should say something,”
elara hart
“He would’ve wanted it.”
Selena hart
“He wanted a lot of things. Wanting doesn’t make you worth
elara hart
“He didn’t know what would happen... I didn’t know either.”
Selena hart
“You just didn’t care enough.”
Her mother’s breath hitched.
Selena hart
“You married him, remember?” Selena continued, gaze locked on the altar. “You loved that monster long before you loved me. Even when he screamed at you. Even when he hit you. Even when he locked your daughter in the dark.”
elara hart
Her mother shook her head. “Selena—please—”
Selena hart
Selena’s voice was still quiet, but laced with steel. “Do you remember the lift, Mother? The steel walls? The darkness swallowing everything? I was five. I wet myself. I thought I was going to die in there. And when I screamed for you... you told me to stop making trouble.”
Her mother sobbed, a sound so soft it could’ve been mistaken for a cough.
elara hart
“I was scared. I didn’t know what to do.”
Selena hart
“No,you chose not to do anything.”
Silence fell between them again, heavier this time. A priest called for a moment of remembrance. Selena did not bow her head. Her eyes remained wide open, almost predatory, as she watched the coffin disappear behind a curtain
Selena hart
“I came here today not for him,” she said quietly, “but to remind you.”
Her mother’s gaze flicked toward her, trembling.
Selena hart
“To remind you, that no matter how many flowers you throw over a grave, the rot underneath never goes away.”
Her mother seemed to shrink in her coat, shoulders folding inward.
Then Selena shifted—so suddenly, so unnervingly—into something sweeter. She slipped her arm gently through her mother’s and leaned close, her voice a soft melody.
Selena hart
“But I’ll take care of you,” she whispered. “Because you’re all I have. My precious, fragile mother.”
Her mother glanced up, confused, like prey sensing a trap too late.
Selena hart
“You should rest more,” she said with a smile. “You shouldn’t walk around in the cold like this. What if something happened to you?”
Her grip tightened just slightly. Her mother winced but said nothing.
Selena hart
“You always try so hard,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from her mother’s face. “But let me help. Let me handle everything.”
Her words wrapped around her mother like silk—and noose.
Then, with the grace of a queen, Selena turned to the few mourners lingering nearby. She offered a polite, faint smile, the kind that told people she was composed, kind, grieving—but strong.
someone
“Your father was a good man.”
Selena hart
Accepted the flowers without flinching. “He did what he could,” she said gently. “We all do.”
As the man walked away, her eyes went cold again. She leaned close to her mother one last time.
Selena hart
“I’ll arrange everything from now on. You don’t need to think. You don’t need to choose.”
Her mother barely nodded.
And just like that, Selena led her out of the chapel, the grip on her mother’s arm never once loosening.
Two women. One mask. One leash.
Bound not by love—but by guilt, power, and a twisted sense of family.
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