Chapter 2

The next morning, Edward's mother, Jane, had the driver pick me up.

When I got to Grant Manor, the living room was full of people.

Jane was wearing a light gray dress, her emerald bracelet tapping against her cup.

She barely glanced at me as I walked in. "Still wearing such understated colors at a party? You're carrying the Grant family's first child. Don't let anyone think you're mistreated."

I handed the supplements to the servant. "Mom, Edward asked me to stay here for a couple of days."

Jane gave a small smile. "He's good at planning things. Charlotte got back, so the house will be lively. And it wouldn't be comfortable for you to stay over there right now."

The living room went quiet.

The woman sitting on the other side of the sofa looked up at me.

She wore a white dress, her hair loosely pinned up, a bouquet of gardenias resting on her lap. Her smile looked like she'd stepped right out of that photo.

"You must be Lydia," she said, standing up, her voice soft. "I'm Charlotte. I've heard Eddie talk about you a lot."

'Eddie.' I tried saying the name to myself, but it still felt strange and distant.

Jane waved for Charlotte to sit back down, her voice full of warmth and affection, something I'd never received from her. "You're not in the best health, so don't keep standing.

"Eddie was so thoughtful that he reminded me on the way that you just got off the plane and shouldn't get too tired."

I stood there, my hand resting gently on my belly.

Charlotte noticed, her gaze pausing for a moment before she smiled. "Congratulations. I heard you're eight weeks along."

Jane cut in quickly. "A baby is a blessing, but you still need to remember the rules. Being pregnant isn't a free pass, so don't use it as an excuse to always pull your husband's attention."

Jane didn't say it loudly, but the whole room heard her loud and clear.

One of the aunts smiled over her cup and said, "Lydia's still young, so of course, she's a bit pampered, not like Charlotte, who's always been the mature one, even as a kid."

Charlotte lowered her eyes. "Please don't say that. Lydia is Mrs. Grant now."

Jane tapped her cup lid against the rim. "If she's Mrs. Grant, then she should know how to carry herself."

I remembered the first year of our marriage, when Jane was sick in the hospital. I stayed by her side for seventeen days straight.

Back then, Edward held my hand and said, "Lydia, thank you for everything. Mom just puts up a tough front."

It wasn't until later that I realized people who acted tough didn't just let their guard down for anyone.

When Edward arrived at Grant Manor, Charlotte was trying on a shawl.

Jane had taken it out of the closet, saying it was something his grandmother left for him when he was a child.

I'd seen it once before.

On our wedding day, I wanted to wear it when we exchanged wedding rings, but Jane said it was too precious for someone my age to handle.

Now, Charlotte slipped the shawl over her shoulders, and Edward stood close behind her, carefully smoothing out a wrinkle.

His touch was so gentle, like he was afraid the smallest movement might break a piece of the past.

Someone teased, "Eddie, you seem pretty practiced at this. Bet you've helped Charlotte with her shawl plenty of times before, right?"

Edward didn't deny it. He said quietly, "She's always been sensitive to the cold."

Charlotte's cheeks flushed. "It's been so many years, and you still remember."

I sat off to the side, my palm pressed against the wooden box holding the silver hairpin.

Edward finally glanced over at me, his brow furrowed. "Didn't I tell you not to bring that here?"

Jane asked, "What's that?"

Before I could respond, Edward took the box from my hands and opened it, showing it to her.

"You're pregnant and still wearing antique silver? Who told you to wear that? It carries bad energy. Put it away, now."

I reached for it. "This belonged to my grandmother."

Edward moved my hand aside, lowering his voice. "Lydia, don't fuss. Mom's trying to help."

Charlotte spoke up softly, "If you're really attached to it, Lydia, you can leave it with me for now. I know someone who can restore it and make it look good as new."

I looked at her outstretched hand and suddenly smiled. "Charlotte, you love gardenias so much. Do you also want the hairpin my grandmother left behind?"

Charlotte's hand froze in midair.

Edward's expression hardened. "Apologize."

All eyes in the living room turned to me.

I looked at him and asked, "Why?"

He snapped the box shut, his knuckles going white. "Charlotte meant well. You shouldn't talk to her like that."

Jane's voice was cold. "Lydia, being part of the Grant family doesn't mean you can take out your petty temper on our guests."

The baby hadn't moved yet, but it was as if something inside me gave a soft nudge.

I stood up and nodded at Charlotte. "Sorry."

Charlotte bit her lip, her eyes rimmed with red. "It's okay. I know pregnancy is hard enough as it is, Lydia."

Edward's expression softened, but he still didn't give the box back to me.

Instead, he handed it to the servant. "Put it in the study cabinet for now."

I watched as the box was taken away, and then felt a familiar hand gently settle on my shoulder.

It was Edward.

His palm was warm and familiar, like his voice. "Be nice, Lydia. Don't make things difficult for everyone."

Suddenly, I understood what he meant last night by "she really was different from me."

Charlotte was the one everyone tiptoed around, making sure her feelings were never hurt.

I was the one who wasn't allowed to have any feelings at all.

Before dinner, the servant showed me to the guest room.

As I reached the corner of the stairs, I overheard Charlotte in the living room, her voice barely above a whisper. "Eddie, does Lydia dislike me?"

Edward paused, sounding calm. "She's just a little sensitive right now because of the pregnancy. She'll get over it soon."

Charlotte asked again, "Will you ask her to move back? I don't want to make things difficult for you because of me."

Edward's voice dropped. "She's not going anywhere."

I gripped the stair railing, my fingers tightening bit by bit.

The servant walked by with a quilt in her arms and whispered, "Mrs. Grant, Mr. Grant said that Charlotte will be staying in the room next to the master bedroom tonight.

"The window in your room is broken, so you'll have to put up with it for now."

With that, she placed a key in my palm.

There was a label stuck to the key reading "Storage Room."