Soft beams of sunlight seeped through the heavy silk curtains, coating the spacious room in a blanket of light. Its orange rays projected onto Zaria's porcelain face, coaxing her eyes to flutter open. Although Zaria winced at the light, she embraced its warmth and comfort. Rising from her canopy bed, Zaria unraveled herself out of her silk sheets and stepped out of her canopy bed. A slight chill ran through her veins as her feet delicately met the cool flooring of her room. She pushed the feeling aside and made her way to her vanity table's chair, where an oversized cream cardigan rested on top. She draped the cardigan over her short, lace-trimmed, light pink nightgown and slipped her feet into a pair of fluffy bedroom slippers. She returned to the grand bay window, her steps soft and delicate as she did so.
Zaria cracked the bay window open and immediately met the cool, early morning summer breeze. She stayed seated near it despite the chilly breeze. She thought the outdoors was strangely calming: the chirping birds, the rustling leaves, and the estate's gardeners attending to the vibrant and luscious garden below her window. The tranquility of early summer mornings was a form of escapism for Zaria. Watching the sunrise and finding solace in nature's beauty and grace was a temporary cure for her complicated life.
Despite the past few months of summer, which were meant to be leisurely, Zaria was still busy. Her grandparents, Celine and Gabriel Harrington, were two esteemed members of elite society. They were constantly at the forefront of highly sought-after social events. Aside from their wealth and legacies, the old couple was known for hosting and attending the most high-profile dinner parties, soirees, and charity events.
Zaria's living with her grandparents meant that she was required to accompany them to these events. But she wasn't troubled by their expectations. The more she attended these prestigious events, the more predictable they were, and with time, she became used to it. Guests would always shower her with compliments about her beauty and talent and express their admiration for her grandparents for having such an admirable granddaughter.
The attendees, who were mostly peers and associates of Celine and Gabriel, matched her grandparents' age, manner of speaking, and interests. Thus, they are a far cry from the eccentric, damaging, and scandalous Manhattan teenagers that were once part of Zaria's life.
Westchester, which was where she lived with her grandparents on their massive ancestral estate, had its own set of overprivileged teenagers and scandals. Though they paled in comparison to the ones in Manhattan, which made Zaria feel at ease, it was comforting to know that if her business were to ever venture out of the confines of her grandparents or friends, it would reach a far smaller handful of ears than it would in a place like New York with its bustling network of gossip. Westchester offers peace. It was the perfect antidote to the traumatizing world that was her reality in New York.
The sun soon rose, and Zaria once again turned away from her window and moved towards her room to get ready for the day.
Before moving in, Zaria's room at the estate had only been for visits, so the room remained relatively the same for years. The room's decor was unapologetically feminine, with a color palette consisting of light pink, beige, lilacs, etc. The room also bore remnants of her childhood, as it was adorned with an array of stuffed animals, priceless dolls, playsets, and a collection of awards from her earlier days of ballet, figure skating, and horseback riding.
Once Zaria moved in, her grandmother suggested renovating the room, an idea Zaria initially resisted. The youthful and nostalgic space provided her with comfort. Nevertheless, her grandmother went through with the renovation so the room could reflect Zaria's maturation.
Since Celine respected her granddaughter's memories and affection for her childhood room, the new room was crafted with a delicate touch. The room was infused with elements that spoke of Zaria's transformation into a sophisticated young woman and a traditionally feminine aesthetic.
Her room was held up by old, cream-colored walls. They bore the slight marks of a lifetime that spanned nearly two centuries. Along with the marks of those who once lived in the room. They might've been old, but they were a testament to the family's legacy of wealth and beauty. Along the walls were gilded frames portraying floral scenes that her ancestors painted over the years. Gracing the walls were also Neoclassical moldings that could only be created with precision, talent, and the hands of a human.
The mahogany flooring of the expansive room was polished to a perfect shine and held the reflection of a large, crystal chandelier that also lit up the entire room. Throughout the room, there were numerous windows, including a bay window, providing natural light and a stunning perspective of her surroundings.
Centrally positioned against a wall was a queen-sized poster bed with an elaborate and ornate gold frame. The bedding consisted of pastel silks, laces, and cotton that were custom-made and gifted to her by a close friend of Celine, one of the many perks of having a grandmother with connections to high-profile interior designers. The bed matched the gentle and aristocratic motif of the room. Alongside the bed was a cream-colored nightstand with a vintage lamp that illuminated her bedside with a rosy hue.
Other furniture included an intricately carved vanity and a matching stool that housed an array of designer perfumes, hair products, makeup, jewelry, and other accessories. Near the fireplace in her room sat a chaise lounge chair that was most functional during the cold, unforgiving New York winters.
Zaria stepped into the bathroom attached to her bedroom and prepared herself for the day. She began with a refreshing shower, and at the end, she smelled like vanilla and flowers. She emerged from the shower in a fluffy white towel and stood in front of the foggy, intricate mirror as she brushed her teeth. It was then followed by a simple skincare routine. Once the mirror was rid of the fog, Zaria was able to properly gaze at herself in the mirror.
Ever since she came into the world, she has been praised for her looks. As a child, she was frequently called "cute" and "adorable. As she matured, she was referred to as "stunning," "gorgeous," "beautiful," and so on. It was both a mix of admiration and envy as people continually expressed their desire for her features-and they couldn't blame themselves.
Long, voluminous, and silky black curls cascaded down her back and pooled around her graceful shoulders. Its vibrancy and shine easily caught the eye of anyone who encountered her, and they were always compelled to compliment her about it.
Her dark skin glowed naturally and captivated many. Her face was reminiscent of a delicate porcelain doll whose features worked in unison. Her large, expressive eyes sat beneath full eyelashes and groomed eyebrows. Paired together, it gave her an endearing, doe-eyed expression that could enchant anyone who looked into them. Her cheekbones, although not as prominent as the others in her family, were present nonetheless. Whenever her full lips morphed into a smile or laugh, her dimples became even more apparent, and a perfect set of teeth was revealed.
Much like her face, her body was also divine. Her frame was slim with a narrow waist, a full chest, and an elegant collarbone, and she stood at five-foot-seven.
To many, Zaria was breathtaking, with an unattainable natural beauty. It was the kind of beauty that couldn't be recreated by the delicate hands of surgeons or with makeup. No, it was the type of beauty that was inherited and took generations to perfect.
After completing her morning routines, Zaria got dressed for the day. She opted for an oversized, light pink cable-knit sweater, white shorts, white sneakers, and her usual gold, priceless jewelry combo of earrings, a necklace, and a few bracelets. She then quickly added on some mascara and lipgloss before making her way downstairs to have breakfast with her grandparents.
The Upper East Side penthouse Zaria used to live in was nothing short of opulent, but she had grown accustomed to it over time, so she wasn't as amazed by it as a regular person would be. Yet, the manor that has been in her family for generations, which she now lives in, has never failed to impress her.
Nestled in the lush, rolling hills of Westchester, New York, was the Harrington Estate. The estate was a sprawling 300-acre property that graced the land it proudly sat on for nearly two centuries. The manor's presence was as commanding as the family name it represented.
Harrington Manor was a Georgian-style manor that sat in the center of the land and was the focal point of the estate. It wasn't until one traveled down the tree-lined winding roads and bypassed the wrought iron gates patrolled by security guards that they could see the extravagance and thorough artistry of the manor.
The long driveway led to a circular forecourt with an ornate fountain as the centerpiece. The driveway sat before an imposing brick-and-stone manor with ivy-clad walls. Surrounding the manor were expansive, manicured lawns that bled into the surrounding gardens and overall landscape of their property.
The manor's exterior was brown, with icy leaves covering the outer walls. Windows were strategically placed around them to allow for the optimal amount of natural lighting inside. Its overall design was reminiscent of the time it was built with its neoclassical elements. The walls, pillars, paintings, and architecture of the home all have a late nineteenth- to early twentieth-century feel to them. The grand entrance of the manor featured a towering oak door adorned with intricate carvings that showcased the craftsmanship of the era. The interior of the manor was equally impressive, boasting high ceilings, ornate chandeliers, and exquisite antique furniture that added to its timeless charm.
Upon first stepping inside, a large staircase stretched along the sides and across the center of the grand entryway. Portraits of Zaria's ancestors from both her grandfather's and grandmother's sides lined the walls of the stairway. Aside from ancestral portraits, other priceless ancient and modern artworks were acquired. Despite being aged and dark brown, the flooring throughout the mansion was well-cleaned and appeared new.
The manor included many rooms and amenities, such as a guest house and pool. Steps leading to a pier and a lake that was shared with a few of the other neighbors but was still private were located at the far back of the estate.
Throughout their relationship, Gabriel was well aware of Celine's passion for horses and horseback riding. So, right after they got married and she moved in, he installed a horse stable that has now been part of the estate for decades.
When Zaria's parental ancestors became wealthy from their pharmaceutical business in the nineteenth century, they built the gorgeous manor as a testament to their newfound success and legacy. During the planning and construction process, they ensured that the home would last for future generations. So, they did not hold back when it came to building the manor, as they wanted it to be a symbol of what the Harrington name stood for.
The courtyard was another magnificent site to behold. Upon stepping outside from the back doors of the manor, guests meet a staircase that leads them to said courtyard.
Cobblestone walkways with elaborate patterns covered the area. The focal point was another grand fountain; its flow of crystal-clear water provided guests with a tranquility only wealth could offer. Carefully trimmed hedges perfectly lined the perimeter of the area, creating a timeless geometric design that often came along with these sorts of places. Adorning these hedges were colorful flowerbeds. Throughout the courtyard, antique, elaborate lampposts cast a gentle glow at dusk. Deeper into the courtyard was a gazebo covered in vines and roses-a place Zaria frequently visited to read. The courtyard's scent crafted a beautiful balance of both lavender and boxwood. Additionally, stone figures stood tall and were very intricate, not only pleasing to the eye but also having stories of their own.
The dining room was a proud embodiment of the family's prestige and fine taste. The morning light filtered through the heavy drapes that pooled on the floor. The windows allowed for additional lighting and a view of the expansive estate. When it was dark, the crystal chandelier above would illuminate the room with a warm glow. The walls were adorned with imposing paintings of the Harrington family's ancestors. Deep, rich burgundy wallpaper with delicate gold designs decked the walls. Along with oil paintings of previous Harringtons.
The mahogany dining table, with intricate carving, was polished to an impressive shine and housed an array of silverware and glasses that reflected the soft glow of the chandeliers above. Lined up along the table were velvet chairs with a high back and gold leaf accents. Under the table and chairs was a rug beaten by time, its colors muted but dignified. Along the table was a silk or ivory table runner. There were also antique, but well-preserved, golden candelabras across the table. Set up meticulously during meals were beautiful bone china sets.
When Zaria entered the grand dining room, her grandparents were already seated at the grand table, waiting for her to join them for breakfast. During the wait, her grandmother was with her white Persian cat, Effie. The cat, who was overly pampered and lived a better life than most of the world, was perched comfortably in her owner's lap before being handed off to a maid once Celine heard her granddaughter's footsteps.
The old couple grinned wildly as their granddaughter drew near.
"Good morning, Grandma," Zaria greeted as she entered the room.
"Good morning, Zaria. Someone looks radiant this morning," Celine complimented as Zaria kissed her cheek.
"Thank you, Grandma," Zaria replied, a small smile on her lips. "Morning, Grandpa," she added as she gave him a warm hug.
Gabriel broke into a warm, affectionate smile as he regarded his granddaughter. "Good morning, my dear. How did you sleep?"
"I slept well; thank you for asking," she responded as she took her seat.
All of them, who were now seated in the manor's opulent dining room, began to eat the breakfast prepared by their chef. It was normal for them to bask in such luxury. After all, they were Harringtons.
The Harrington family was a formidable power in its own right. They were one of the world's wealthiest families, with their family members holding prestigious and successful careers in business, politics, entertainment, law, etc.
Gabriel, the esteemed patriarch of the family, was directly related to the one who built the foundation for the family's wealth many years ago. After escaping slavery nearly a decade before the Civil War began, Darnell Harrington eventually opened up his first pharmacy store in New York. A single store laid the stage for the business to become a multibillion-dollar company today. Since Gabriel's forebears created one of the greatest pharmaceutical enterprises in the world, the Harrington name has stood for strength, reputation, and influence.
Yet, with all of his wealth and power, there was a welcoming aura about Gabriel. After dedicating several decades to the boardroom with his commanding and authoritative style of leadership, he found solace in consistently expressing tranquility and joy. Even when he served as CEO, his softer side was reserved for family and close friends. But with retirement comes contempt, and he was contemptuous of his life on the estate, his life with the only woman he's ever loved, and now, for a few years, his life with his precious granddaughter.
His appearance carried the distinguished air of a man who has experienced much and achieved great things in his lifetime. His rich, brown skin gave him an air of ageless vigor. In his deep-set brown eyes were traces of a wealth of wisdom and kindness.
As a testament to his age, Gabriel's once dark hair has transitioned to a noble shade of short, silvery gray, neatly groomed to maintain an air of refinement. Complementing the silver hues of his hair is a well-trimmed beard that softens his strong jawline while adding to his venerable persona.
Tall and commanding in stature, Gabriel's broad shoulders and arms bear the evidence of a lifetime of holding his own, both physically and metaphorically; his muscles retain some of their youthful firmness, indicative of a man who has never fully relinquished physical activity with his pursuits in hunting, golf, sailing, etc.
Nonetheless, time has tenderly sculpted his once athletic body with an extra layer of softness around the stomach, abdomen, and waistline, suggesting his comfortable existence and a life rich not only in success but in the hearty enjoyment of its fruits.
As for Celine, she married into the family. But that didn't diminish her vast contributions to the family's status. Celine was part of one of Ethiopia's, if not all, of East Africa's most prominent families. Their wealth can be traced back centuries; both of her parents were members of the country's aristocracy, and her father controlled several banks. Due to political uprisings in her country, her family was forced to flee and leave behind their wealth and possessions. As they sought refuge in London, they had to start from scratch and live mundane lives.
When Celine was a teenager, while shopping with her mother and sister in the busiest streets of London, she was scouted by a modeling agent. The agent was drawn to Celine's natural grace and striking appearance. As a model, Celine dominated the industry; runways, magazine covers, and advertisements were constantly graced with her beauty and presence. To this day, Celine is regarded as one of the greatest supermodels. Even after her modeling days were over, she was still a powerhouse in the fashion industry with all of the connections and friendships she made in her career.
Simultaneously, as Celine's modeling career was starting, her family began to rebuild their wealth when her father used his connections and established his bank. The bank attracted clients and investors who were well aware of not only the bank's quality services but also Celine's family's reputation as aristocrats. The bank's success led to the family being allowed to venture into other industries, such as real estate, overall regaining their wealth and power. And through negotiations, their wealth, estate, and other assets from their country were restored.
Her appearance reflected a timeless elegance. She exuded a regal glow with her rich, dark skin. Her silhouette was slim and stood at 5'9, hinting at her former supermodel career. Much like her granddaughter, Celine possessed long, curly hair that contained several streaks of silver. Rather than aging her overall appearance, her hair provided her with a touch of silver sophistication. Her high forehead, which spoke of her background, was paired with a beautiful set of groomed eyebrows that rested perfectly above her eyes.
The narrow, discerning eyes served as windows to experiences and wisdom that stemmed from a life of carrying oneself with grace and purpose. Around those eyes were long, full lashes that enhanced the allure of her facial features. In the center of her face sat a small, narrow, aristocratic nose. Both her prominent cheekbones and jawline appeared as though they were crafted by God himself with care. All of these features came together to form a harmonious beauty that attracted the eyes and hearts of many: her husband, modeling agencies, the general public, flings from her youth who went to great lengths to get her attention, etc.
But it wasn't just her beauty that attracted the likes of Gabriel; her character was also a huge part of her appeal. What once was a timid, insecure young girl blossomed into a regal, powerful woman with an icy demeanor. Celine might've seemed like the usual housewife who spent her days catering to her husband's and home's needs, but beneath her graceful, composed surface was a calculated woman.
Celine commanded those around her with ease through her mere presence and cold gaze. Everyone was bound to her will, from people within her own family to the elite social circles she was part of. Her husband might've been the esteemed patriarch of the Harrington family, but there was no doubt that Celine held nearly as much power as Gabriel.
Celine knew how to increase the family's social power. The moment she joined New York society, she quickly became known for her elaborate parties and social gatherings. Where friendships and alliances were formed with other influential figures. She knew how to play the game of society, and ever since, she has wielded it to benefit herself and her family.
It was a shock to no one that Gabriel married a woman like Celine, for she was his ideal woman: beauty, grace, and intellect. Her defining qualities.
As most mornings went by, the trio ate their breakfast together and talked about their upcoming plans. Except today was slightly different. Zaria blissfully ignored her grandparents' glances at one another while she ate and conversed with them.
Minutes passed by before her grandfather cleared his throat. "Zaria," he began, "we have some news regarding your father."
Zaria's gaze instantly shot up from her plate. It has been a while since she last talked about her father. For years, their communication consisted of simple greetings or conversations during holidays or birthdays.
Even with all the time the summer has to offer, Zaria's father has yet to spend a minute with her. He was either managing the family's pharmaceutical empire as CEO or with his secretary-turned-girlfriend, Sienna. It took a while, but Zaria came to terms with the current state of her and her father's dynamics, and there was only so much she could do on her part.
Her grandmother, eyeing Gabriel as she placed her teacup down, also began to speak. "A few days ago, your father called and asked if he could have dinner with us. His reasons were that he wanted to ask you a question."
Zaria's eyebrows slightly furrowed. "What could be so important that he couldn't ask over the phone?"
Her grandparents gave each other a knowing look; they knew how strongly Zaria felt about speaking to her father. Their delayed responses didn't help the situation either, as it raised a few suspicions in Zaria's mind.
Both of her grandparents hesitated before Gabriel spoke up again. "Well, he doesn't want us to reveal too much." He paused when he noticed Zaria was silently pleading with her eyes to say more. "But," he continued. "He wants to talk to you about your future," Gabriel continued gently, "about possibly moving back in with him."
Zaria's eyes widen, and her words rush: "What's wrong with me living here? He agreed to let me live here with you guys years ago. What has changed?"
This time, Celine spoke up. "Don't worry, darling," her melodic voice reassured. "Nothing has been decided yet for your future." She glanced at her husband for a sign of agreement before continuing, "We just think it's a conversation you're ready to have."
As Zaria thought about how the dinner would go, her heart raced with a pain that time hadn't fixed yet. "I don't even want to talk to him, let alone have dinner and discuss my future with him. Does he think he can convince me to move back? To live with him and... and her?"
Celine and Gabriel sat there stunned, unable to find the correct words that would ease their granddaughter's anxiety.
"We're not saying you must go along with what your father wants. But at least hear him out first. Okay?"
Zaria solemnly nodded at Celine's words, fighting to control her preferred response from slipping out. She knew better than to press the matter further after her grandmother subtly ended the conversation. And Zaria respected her grandmother far too much to disrupt her peace and boundaries.
Gabriel, on the other hand, watched his granddaughter's mental retreat. His eyes softened up when he saw a furrowed brown slowly etch itself on Zaria's face-an expression that reminded him of his son and Zaria's father, James.
The more Gabriel saw how much Zaria was worrying about her father and dinner, the more he desperately wanted to hear Zaria out and, if convincing enough, cancel the dinner. He had seen her suffering firsthand, and he couldn't bear the idea of putting her through it again. But like Zaria, he wouldn't dare challenge the words of the Harrington matriarch.
Breakfast continued smoothly, but there was a lingering air of concern and confusion regarding the conversation from earlier.
Once finished, Zaria promptly excused herself from the table and announced that she was going for a ride.
~
Moments later, she emerged from her bedroom in her riding attire: a white ruffled blouse beneath the blazer that peaked out a bit, beige, form-fitting breeches, and polished black leather boots that stopped below her knee. Her ensemble was complete, with her curly hair styled in a slicked-back ponytail, tan gloves adorning her hands, and a silk scarf wrapped around her neck. Holstered between the sides of her body and arm was a matching navy blue velvet hat.
The early afternoon sun cast an ethereal glow across the estate's lush green landscape. Decades ago, the stables were installed after Gabriel married Celine, since he knew of her love for horseback riding. Nonetheless, the stables withstood time as the finely crafted structure remained intact. Within the stables, dozens of horses were stored, each with an individual stall and a gold brass nameplate. Also, there was a grooming station and a sitting area for the stable workers and guests.
After greeting the stable master, Zaria instantly made over to her horse, Snow.
"Hey there." She softly greeted her as her gloved hand stroked her white mane. The horse nuzzled its nose into the soft palm of its owner, warming Zaria's heart, but then she quickly remembered how Snow was a Christmas gift from her father when she was young.
The Harrington Estate was covered in a thick, white blanket of snow and decorated with festive decorations, befitting the holiday and the charming winter wonderland it created.
It was Christmas, and Zaria's family followed their usual routine: open presents at the penthouse, have breakfast, get dressed, and head to the Harrington Estate for Christmas dinner with the other family members.
Like any other Christmas, Zaria had opened up many gifts. Each gifted person fulfilled her desires as she got everything she asked for. But little did she know her father had another surprise for her.
An hour had passed since she, her brother Miles, and her parents arrived at the estate. After exchanging plenaries with other family members, James approached his daughter with a grin.
"Zaria, would you like to come with me to the stables?"
Innocently, Zaria replied, "But Grandma said dinner would start soon. And if we are late, she'll be upset." She paused for a moment as she played with the hem of her black and plaid Christmas dress with a bow. Hesitantly, she agreed, "I'll go, but only if you promise we'll be back in time."
James chuckled at his young daughter's punctuality. "I promise we'll be back in time for dinner."
With that, Zaria agreed to join her father on his journey to the stables. After putting on their coats, Zaria curled her tiny fingers around her father's hand and followed him out of the room, through the labyrinth halls of the estate, and outside.
Weathered leaves and snow crunched the feet of the pair as they walked down the narrow path that led to the estate's horse stables.
Zaria, with her large, innocent eyes, gazed up at her father. "Why are we going to the stables again?"
"Daddy has one more surprise for you. It's better than every gift you opened this morning."
They arrived at the finely crafted stables, where the scent of hay and the sounds of the horses greeted them. They walked to the back, where there was a stall with a giant red bow. Inside the stall was a majestic, gentle pony with a coat as white as the current landscape.
"Is she mine?" Zaria asked with amazement in her eyes.
"Yes, darling. She's all yours," James affectionately revealed. "What will you name her?"
Zaria stopped to think while she looked into the pony's soft eyes. "I'll call her Snow! Because her coat looks like snow!." She proclaimed it with a giggle.
James laughed. "That's a wonderful name."
He picked up Zaria to help her pet Snow's muzzle. The pony immediately embraced.
"For me?" Zaria gasped, her eyes wide in amazement.
"Yes, darling. What will you name her?"
Zaria thought for a moment, looking into the pony's sweet eyes. "Snow! Because she's as white as the Christmas snow!"
"That's a wonderful name!" James laughed, and they both marveled at Zaria's pony.
"Thank you, Daddy! I love her!" Zaria squealed as she hugged him. "I will take care of her," she promised, her voice brimming with joy.
"I know you will, sweetheart," James replied, his heart swelling with joy at his daughter's happiness.
It was a memory that came up every time she rode Snow, or any horse, for that matter. It was a memory she desperately tried to bury and forget, but deep down, she knew she couldn't. It was painful to think about, but it also brought her so much joy at the time, and unfortunately, the good outweighed the bad.
Luckily, she'd mastered the art of quickly pushing it to the side before she thought twice about going for a ride. She gracefully mounted Snow and properly adjusted herself before nudging her and beginning the ride. As Zaria traveled along the serene paths of the estate, she vented to Snow about her grievances with her father and the latest news regarding him.
"Well, Snow, it seems like Dad will be joining us for dinner for the first time in forever."
Snow snorted, as though she understood Zaria's frustration, and Zaria lightly chuckled, appreciating her silent companion.
The peaceful embrace of the estate's countryside emboldened Zaria to comfortably express her thoughts: "I just don't know how to feel about it, Snow. I haven't had a true conversation with Dad in years, and he suddenly wants to reconnect. Why now?"
Snow continued to trot along the winding paths, the rhythmic sound of hooves creating a comforting beat. The gentle breeze extracted Zaria's words with ease and carried her worries with them.
"He was never there when I needed him. Always too busy with his empire and Sienna," Zaria continued her voice, a mix of frustration and longing. "And now he thinks one family dinner will magically fix everything."
The expansive fields and the rustle of leaves seemed to absorb her concerns. Zaria urged Snow into a canter, the rush of wind and the rhythmic thud of hooves against the ground momentarily drowning out the tumult of emotions.
As they slowed to a walk, Zaria patted Snow's neck, her words reflective. "Maybe he's changed, as Grandma says. Maybe it's worth giving it a chance. But I can't help feeling like it's too late."
Her worries seemed to be absorbed by the vast fields and the sound of rustling leaves. The rush of wind and the steady thud of hooves on the ground momentarily muffled the turbulence of emotions as Zaria nudged Snow into a canter and relaxed for a moment.
Seeing as time was passing by, Zaria led Snow back to the stables under the lengthy shadows formed by the afternoon sun. The ride provides both a physical release and a space for introspection.
The sun setting in the Westchester sky was a beautiful pool of orange, purple, and red. But Zaria paid no mind to the gorgeous display outside her window. Instead, as she was seated at her vanity, methodically preparing for bed, she theorized what dinner with her father would be like. Would it be like the holiday dinners they've had in the past? Where words were laced with bubbling resentment and every interaction included tight-lipped smiles as they danced around the tension,
As Zaria braided her curls at her vanity, she heard soft knocks on her bedroom door that belonged to her grandmother.
"Come in." She called out gently, her eyes not leaving her reflection in the mirror.
It was none other than her grandmother, who wore a silk robe, the picture of grace. Zaria saw her grandmother in the vanity mirror and shot her a tender smile, which Celine reciprocated as she sat on the edge of Zaria's bed. For a moment, Celine watched her granddaughter finish her hair with pride. It wasn't about the mere act of doing a hairstyle that made Celine proud; it was the poise and elegance she effortlessly exuded that made Celine proud. She couldn't believe the broken girl from three years ago had blossomed into the perfect young woman.
Once Zaria finished her hair and nighttime routine, she swung around on the chair to face her grandmother. "Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?" she asked as she got up to sit beside her grandmother on the bed.
Celine softly exhaled while she placed a hand on top of Zaria's. "At breakfast, you didn't seem too happy about the news-is everything alright?"
Zaria studied the concern stitched into her grandmother's face before comfortably replying, "No, it's not." She paused, cautious of her words: "I didn't like how you and Grandpa sprung the news onto me. And why so soon? I need at least a month to prepare for a dinner like that."
Celine cracked a small smile at the end before maintaining her composure. "Well, your father's been asking for a while, but your grandfather and I kept putting it off because you weren't ready, and frankly, you're the happiest you've ever been. We knew you wouldn't want to agree to it then, and you may not agree to it now, but it's time we have these conversations."
"These "conversations" won't change anything because there's nothing my dad could say that would make me want to leave here. Leave you, Grandpa, and Luke." Zaria looked around, her eyes reflecting a tumult of emotions she'd been carrying since breakfast. "I'm just... worried, Grandma. Dad has hardly been around, and now he wants to decide my future. What if he's already decided on my future? What if he's coming here to tell me what to do?"
"Then we shall remind him." Celine replied with an assertive firmness that left no room for dispute "That you're not just his daughter, but an individual with her own will who has been happier than ever since she left her previous environment."
Celine moved closer, cupping Zaria's face in her soft hands and looking into her large eyes. "Your father just wants to be part of your life again. But if you truly don't want to move back in with him, say so. You, Zaria, are a Harrington. You have the strength to face this."
Celine planted a warm kiss on her granddaughter's head. "You'll do just fine talking to him, I promise."
She then rose from her seat and walked to the door, saying, "Goodnight, Zaria."
"Goodnight, Grandma."
As Celine left the room, Zaria got settled into bed. She felt a mix of fear and courage coalescing within her chest. Zaria gazed up at the carved ceiling, thinking about the conversation with her grandmother. It had prepared her for the coming dinner, where she would face her father and future head-on.