Chapter 3: The Board Remained Where Everyone Could See It
The board remained where everyone could see it.
It lay on its side near the ballroom entrance, one corner pressed against the marble, the other angled toward the frozen tables. Gold calligraphy curved across the oak in elegant lines meant to guide guests toward the evening’s menu. Now a dark scrape cut through the lettering, fresh pale wood showing beneath the finish. One brass-colored edge had caught on the floor and bent slightly outward.
I saw it without moving toward it.
Sophie’s fingers were still twisted in the fabric at my waist. Her grip pulled the navy dress tight against my knee while I held her against my chest. The smear of blood on her cheek had widened where tears had carried it downward. Her white ribbon sat crooked around her neck, and one loose strand of blonde hair clung to the damp skin beside her eye.
I kept the napkin pressed to her forehead. I did not look away long enough to check whether the blood had stopped.
Across the open space, Preston stood beside the entrance. His black tuxedo was still perfectly arranged except for the red rose at his lapel, which had shifted so its stem pointed toward the floor. His face changed while I watched him. Anger tightened his mouth, then uncertainty passed through it when his eyes lifted toward the small red light above the archway. When he looked back at the people around him, the anger returned, more controlled than before.
The camera continued blinking.
I lowered my gaze to Sophie. Her eyelashes fluttered, but she did not lift her head. The white flower-girl dress bunched beneath my arm, its clean fabric marked now by a faint red spot near the shoulder. I felt the shape of each wrinkle through my hand, as if the dress itself could tell me how quickly the moment had happened.
I counted what I could see.
The board was on its side, not flat. The damaged corner faced the ballroom. Preston stood beyond it, close enough that the distance between his shoes and the oak seemed measured rather than accidental. The camera hung above the archway. I was on my knees several feet inside the room. Sophie’s blood was on her cheek and on the napkin in my hand.
No one came forward.
The guests held themselves in separate stillnesses. A hand rested above a tablecloth without touching a glass. Someone’s chair had turned halfway toward the entrance. A woman near the nearest table leaned back with both palms braced against the edge. Their faces showed shock, doubt, fear, or some mixture I could not name. I understood then that the same room could become several different rooms depending on which detail a person chose to remember.
Some might remember Preston’s anger.
Some might remember the board.
Some might remember only my voice and the way I had covered Sophie with my body.
I fixed the positions in my mind before anyone could change them. The board beside the entrance. Preston behind it. The camera above us. Sophie in my arms. My knees on the marble. The blood visible against her skin.
I refused to replace those facts with an explanation.
Preston shifted his weight. The sole of one polished shoe edged closer to the board, then stopped. His eyes moved from the oak to the camera and back again. He did not bend to pick it up. He did not touch it. That hesitation became another fact, small but clear.
Sophie tightened her hold on my dress.
I kept one arm around her and the other hand against her forehead. Her breathing came in shallow pulls against my collarbone. I felt each one. The ballroom remained silent except for the faint hum of the hotel’s lights and the soft movement of fabric whenever someone shifted without taking a step.
The red camera light blinked again.
May you like
Preston looked up.
I looked at Sophie instead, memorizing the blood on her cheek, the crooked ribbon, and the fingers that would not let go. Then I looked once more at the board and held every position in place before the room could decide what had happened for me.
Related Stories
