After a while, Melisa stepped out of the washroom, her face composed, flawless as ever. Not a single person among those who saw her would be able to guess she had just been crying. The faint redness at the corners of her eyes blended seamlessly with her makeup—an intentional touch that concealed the evidence of her weakness.
Thank god I brought my makeup, she thought, adjusting a stray strand of hair. Or else I would have made a fool of myself.
Lifting her chin slightly, she stepped forward, slipping effortlessly back into the role she had perfected—a woman unshaken, untouchable.
When she returned to the lively party, Leonard was still standing in the same spot, seemingly waiting for her.
Melisa's carefully maintained composure wavered for a moment. If he's acting, then he's really good at it. If not, then… She forced herself to stop the thought before it could spiral further.
People really do forget their punishment in front of temptation, she mused, the corner of her lips curling in self-mockery.
Seeing her stop, Leonard, who had been watching her, furrowed his brow.
"Melisa?" he called, his gaze carefully observing her.
"What?" Melisa instinctively lowered her eyes, pretending to fix the wrinkles in her dress. She didn't know why she avoided his gaze.
Leonard stepped forward and gently lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Did something happen?" His voice was low, filled with concealed worry.
She waved his hand away from her chin—it was easy since his grip was light. "Nothing happened. I just got some makeup in my eyes," she said, her gaze flitting everywhere except at him.
"Your fingers are fidgeting," Leonard remarked, seemingly off-topic. But Melisa caught the unspoken words he left unfinished.
Melisa stilled for a moment before forcing a dry chuckle. "Am I not allowed to fidget now?" she teased, trying to change the topic.
Leonard didn't respond immediately. Instead, he studied her eyes, his deep gaze making her uneasy. Then, as if trying to sound casual, he said lightly, "Let's go home. The party is almost over."
Melisa was caught off guard by his words. It was only around 10 o'clock, and parties like this usually lasted until midnight. How was it almost over? Did he think she was a clueless child?
She responded lightly, "I don't think so." After a slight hesitation, she added, "I just need some fresh air. I'll be back soon."
Leonard glanced around the party before saying, "Let me guide you to the balcony. It's your first time here."
Melisa tactfully declined his offer. The balcony could be seen from here and she needed some time alone to cool off—how could she let him come with her? It would only confuse her more.
Leonard could only stand there, watching her retreating figure, her heels making soft clicks against the floor. His gaze lingered until she disappeared from sight, only then did he finally look away.
On the balcony, adorned with climbing white roses, Melisa took a deep breath. The cool night air carried the delicate scent of the flowers, calming her restless thoughts.
But, as they say, an empty mind is the devil's playground. Her thoughts began to stir once again. Amidst the tangled mess of emotions and uncertainties, a strange realization surfaced.
"If Leo loves Olivia, then why did he just stand there and watch her fall?"
The question echoed in her mind, unsettling yet oddly grounding.
As she tried to think of answers, a familiar voice from below caught her attention.
Down in the garden, where some guests were mingling, two figures stood out—one was her angry father, and the other was her crying sister.
Holding his beloved daughter's hand, he tried to reassure her. "Don't worry, I'll make her apologize when she comes home."
Olivia hung her head, her voice trembling between sobs. "Sis… she doesn't seem to want to come back."
Her father's voice turned dismissive. "She's just throwing a tantrum. She'll come back later to apologize on her own," he said firmly.
"But… Sis," Olivia hesitated, recalling the determined look on Melisa's face, but she chose to stay silent.
"Now, don't mention it," their father said, his voice steady, devoid of any fluctuation.
It was no surprise. After all, even when she wasn't at fault, Melisa was always the first to give in and apologize—afraid of being abandoned, afraid of disappointing them, afraid of their neglect.
She had never realized that it wasn't because she was unlovable. She had simply been unlucky—unlucky to be born the eldest, and even more unfortunate that she never learned to act coquettishly. Instead of being cherished as a daughter, she had been nothing more than a trial run for their next child.
Melisa felt like laughing—so she did. A wild, unrestrained laughter that echoed through the night, sharp and unapologetic. She didn't care who heard her.
Even those below turned their heads in confusion, startled by the unexpected sound.
Her father and Olivia froze.
Her father's face shifted from embarrassment to anger in an instant, his jaw tightening as he clenched his fists. Meanwhile, Olivia just stood there, staring up at the balcony, her tear-streaked face unreadable.