Sweet For You, Ruthless For Others

How could she?

She didn't even know where her place was. How could she dare to define anyone else's? She didn't know where their place is.

She sighed softly, her fingers reaching for the glass of juice in front of her, hoping for some semblance of comfort. 

Before her fingers could touch it, Selena's perfectly manicured hand snatched it away, the motion swift and deliberate.

"Why are you even at this table?" Selena's glare bore into her, sharp and unrelenting.

Hermia froze, the question like a slap to her already bruised pride.

Selena's disdain burned brighter as she watched her half-sister hesitate. She hated Hermia's presence, hated the very idea of her trying to fit in where she didn't belong. 

What was she doing here, sitting among her friends? Did she plan to steal them too? The thought alone made Selena's blood boil.

But Hermia couldn't steal anything. She was nobody. She was nothing. And Selena was determined to remind everyone of that fact.

"Selena," Hermia gasped, her voice soft, a small frown tugging at her delicate features.

Selena folded her arms across her chest, her lips curling into a smirk. "Don't just repeat my name like you're some broken record," she snapped. "Answer me—why did you sit here?"

Because they were family. Because she had thought that after all these years apart, Selena might want to connect the same way she did. 

Hermia had been lonely in the US, without friends to call her own, and she had hoped that coming back would be different. 

That maybe Selena could be someone she leaned on, someone who might actually care.

But it was obvious now—Selena didn't feel the same.

Hermia's gaze dropped to her sister's manicured nails, glittering under the chandelier's light, and she stayed silent. 

What was the point of answering? She had no one. No allies. No friends who would take her side. She was alone.

The sting of tears welled up, but she blinked them back furiously. After tonight, she vowed to herself, she wouldn't come to another party. 

Not Selena's, not anyone's. Breathing deeply, she swallowed her pain, the bitterness settling heavy in her chest.

"But Ihave to fit in, this is life," Hermia thought. But as she looked around the room, she realized something else: perhaps it wasn't about fitting in. Perhaps it was about learning to stand alone.

Esther straightened in her chair, her tone sharp and inquisitive. "Who invited her anyway?"

Selena sniffed dismissively, her gaze locked on Hermia. "I'd really like to know."

"Who invited you here?" because they believed she knew no one here and that was true.

Hermia's shoulders tensed as the question sliced through the air. She forced a weak smile, hoping—praying—they were just joking. 

Surely they couldn't mean this.

But the icy stares around the table said otherwise.

Rachel leaned back, her eyes scanning the group as if hunting for a culprit. "Why is no one confessing? Who brought her here?"

Sasha scoffed, her voice dripping with mockery. "Did you sneak in, perhaps?" The question hung in the air, drawing an uncomfortable silence that rippled across the table and nearby guests.

Selena's eyes widened theatrically, her faux innocence adding to the tension. "My God, I hope not. The embarrassment to the Blackwood name would be unbearable."

Hermia's face paled as her lips trembled. "No, I was invited! I wouldn't just—"

Selena shot to her feet, the screech of her chair scraping against the floor demanding everyone's attention. 

And she wanted their attention. All of it. "Come on," she declared, glaring down at Hermia. "We need to confirm with security if you were even authorized to be here."

"Selena, stop doing this." Hermia's voice was soft, almost pleading, as her half-sister grabbed her by the arm and pulled her upright.

Selena's pout was calculated, her feigned concern believable to onlookers. "But we have to be sure. I can't let you make a fool of yourself—or us."

"You're absolutely right," Esther chimed in, rising from her chair with urgency. "Someone call security. We need to clear this up immediately."

Anger bubbled under Hermia's calm exterior, threatening to spill over. She shook Selena's grip off, her voice trembling but firm. "What are you doing? Let me go." But the effort lacked the force to match her rising frustration.

Selena tightened her hold and dragged Hermia toward the entrance, a small but eager crowd trailing behind, hungry for the drama unfolding before them.

Before they could get far, a security guard jogged over, cutting off their movement. His stern expression hinted at his growing irritation. "Ma'am, what's going on here?"

"She's here illegally!" Rachel blurted, her words ringing out before either Selena or Hermia could respond.

The guard's brow furrowed as he addressed Hermia. "Ma'am, no one can enter this hall without an invitation. That's strictly enforced."

Rachel gasped, appalled. "Who do you think you are to speak to us like that?"

"What a brute," Selena added with a disdainful sneer.

The guard ignored their protests, his tone firm but professional. "I'm here to ensure order, and causing a scene at someone's party isn't acceptable."

Selena's fingers tightened on Hermia's arm, her frustration boiling over, but Hermia seized the moment to yank her arm free. 

She couldn't take any more. She needed to get out of this place, away from the suffocating humiliation.

"Please return to your seats," the guard continued, his voice cutting through the chaos. "The party hasn't even started yet." He gave a small bow before turning and walking away.

Hermia didn't wait for Selena or anyone else to react. The sting of tears threatened to spill, but she refused to let them fall. 

Not here. Not now. She would turn and walk back through the door she came. She was desperate to disappear.

"Excuse me," Hermia murmured softly, as she picked her purse from the table, she clutched it tightly as she moved away from the table. 

Her movements were deliberate, graceful even, but her trembling hands betrayed the turmoil inside. 

She turned on her heel, determined to escape the suffocating atmosphere of whispers, sneers, and judgmental stares.

'Look at her' they say, without knowing her.

Every pair of eyes followed her retreat, laden with contempt. Eyerolls, quiet snickers, and half-hidden smirks accompanied her steps, but she pressed on, her heart pounding with every step toward freedom.

Just as she reached the edge of the hall, poised to round the corner and vanish from their sight, something unexpected happened. 

A deliberate foot jutted out, too quickly for her to see.

Hermia stumbled.