A chat
Glinda barely made it ten steps down the hall before her mother’s voice cut through the silence.
“Glinda. A word.”
She stilled.
Not because she was surprised. She had expected this.
But because—this was happening now.
She turned slowly, mask in place, spine straight.
Lady Upland was standing just outside the parlor, poised, wine glass in hand, expression unreadable.
Elphaba, lingering just behind Glinda, hesitated.
“Should I—”
“No,” Lady Upland said, before Glinda could even speak. “Stay.”
Glinda’s stomach twisted.
Her mother’s eyes flicked between them—measuring, calculating.
Then, with a graceful tilt of her head, she gestured for them to follow her into the parlor.
Glinda went first.
Elphaba followed, silent, unreadable.
The doors clicked shut behind them.
Lady Upland moved slowly, setting her wine down on the side table before turning to face them fully.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then—“So. This is what you’ve been keeping from me.”
Glinda kept her voice even. “I haven’t been keeping anything.”
Her mother lifted a brow.
“You’re saying I was meant to figure it out on my own?”
Glinda’s lips pressed together.
“You never asked.”
Lady Upland sighed.
“You have always been a difficult child,” she mused. “Stubborn, headstrong, unwilling to listen when you should.”
Elphaba felt Glinda tense beside her.
Her mother’s gaze lingered on her.
“But I have always trusted that you would find your way back to reason.”
Glinda exhaled sharply.
“Reason,” she repeated.
Lady Upland tilted her head. “Do you deny that you have been… distracted?”
Glinda scoffed.
“Distracted? From what?”
“From the future that has always been set before you,” her mother said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Glinda bit the inside of her cheek.
“Ah,” she said lightly. “And what future is that, exactly?”
Lady Upland’s lips curved just slightly.
“A respectable one.”
Glinda felt her stomach drop.
Her mother wasn’t asking.
She was reminding.
Elphaba shifted, voice calm, measured. “You speak as if she has no choice in the matter.”
Lady Upland’s gaze snapped to her. “And you speak as if you understand what’s at stake.”
Elphaba didn’t blink.
Glinda felt the air in the room shift.
Her mother’s tone—sharp, deliberate.
She saw it coming before it even happened.
Lady Upland’s voice was calm, even, but deliberate. “Tell me, darling, are you really willing to risk everything?”
Glinda’s breath caught.
Because there it was.
The thing she had been waiting for.
The real question hidden beneath all the polished words and careful glances.
She inhaled slowly.
And then—“Yes.”
Her mother stilled.
Not in shock. Not in anger.
But in consideration.
And for the first time in her life, Glinda thought—maybe, just maybe—her mother was truly listening.
Lady Upland’s fingers curled around the stem of her glass. “You believe this is real?”
Glinda lifted her chin. “I know it is.”
Her mother exhaled, setting the glass down.
She studied her daughter—truly studied her.
And for the first time in a long time—Glinda saw uncertainty in her eyes.
Then, finally—Lady Upland sighed.
“You are my only child,” she said carefully. “Do you understand what that means?”
Glinda didn’t answer.
“You are my legacy. Our family’s future. You are everything we have built, everything we have invested in.”
Glinda’s throat tightened.
“And if I refuse to play my part?” she asked softly.
Her mother was silent for a long moment.
Then—she exhaled.
And, much softer than before—“Then I will have to adjust.”
Glinda stared.
Because she had expected a fight.
She had expected an ultimatum.
She had expected—anything but this.
Elphaba, standing beside her, was perfectly still.
Lady Upland’s eyes flickered toward her again.
“I do not understand you, Miss Thropp” she admitted.
Elphaba lifted a brow. “Few do.”
Lady Upland huffed.
Then—“But I suppose I am willing to try.”
Glinda inhaled sharply.
She hadn’t realized how much she had been bracing for impact.
Her mother’s tone wasn’t warm.
It wasn’t particularly accepting.
But—it wasn’t rejecting, either.
And that?
That was more than she had expected.
Lady Upland let out a slow breath, straightening her posture.
“We will speak about this again,” she said finally.
Glinda nodded.
“Of course.”
Her mother lingered for a moment longer.
Then—without another word, she turned and left.
Glinda and Elphaba stood in the silence she left behind.
Neither of them spoke.
Not at first.
Then—Elphaba exhaled. “You handled that well.”
Glinda let out a shaky laugh. “I think I’m in shock.”
Elphaba smirked. “I think she is too.”
Glinda turned to look at her.
Elphaba was watching her carefully.
Then—“Are you okay?”
Glinda hesitated.
And then—she nodded. “I think so.”
Elphaba tilted her head. “You don’t sound sure.”
Glinda sighed.
Then, after a moment—she reached for Elphaba’s hand.
Elphaba let her.
And for the first time all night—Glinda exhaled.
Glinda had barely slept.
She had closed her eyes, had tried to rest, had listened to the steady rhythm of Elphaba’s breathing beside her—but her mind had refused to quiet.
Now, morning had arrived, and Glinda felt like she hadn’t even blinked.
Elphaba stirred beside her, exhaling a deep, slow breath before shifting. The mattress dipped as she turned onto her side, her fingers brushing lightly over Glinda’s arm.
“You didn’t sleep,” she murmured, her voice still heavy with sleep.
Glinda let out a quiet, tired laugh. “How could you tell?”
Elphaba opened one eye, studying her.
“You’re stiff,” she said simply. “And you keep sighing.”
Glinda turned onto her side, finally meeting her gaze.
“…It’s a lot to process,” she admitted softly.
Elphaba didn’t need to ask what she meant.
She had seen the look on Glinda’s face last night, the way she had retreated into herself after her conversation with her mother.
Elphaba reached for her hand beneath the blankets, lacing their fingers together.
Glinda exhaled.
“You know she’s not going to change overnight,” Elphaba murmured.
Glinda let out a quiet laugh. “I don’t expect her to.”
“But it wasn’t a no,” Elphaba pointed out. “That’s… something.”
Glinda bit her lip, her free hand coming up to trace lightly over Elphaba’s knuckles.
“She didn’t threaten to disown me,” she said quietly.
Elphaba arched a brow. “That’s a pretty low bar, Glinda.”
Glinda laughed, nudging her playfully. “Shut up.”
Elphaba huffed a quiet chuckle, squeezing her hand.
Glinda fell silent for a moment, staring at their tangled fingers.
Then—softly, tentatively—she lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to Elphaba’s knuckles.
Elphaba stilled.
Glinda felt her watching her.
When she looked up, Elphaba’s gaze was unreadable.
“…What?” Glinda murmured.
Elphaba’s expression softened.
“Nothing,” she said quietly.
Glinda narrowed her eyes.
Elphaba smirked, shifting closer, their noses almost brushing.
“It’s just—” she tilted her head, watching her carefully—“you’re extra sweet in the mornings.”
Glinda huffed. “Don’t tell anyone.”
Elphaba laughed, quiet and warm, before leaning in and brushing her lips over Glinda’s.
Glinda sighed into the kiss, melting into her like it was second nature.
It wasn’t deep. It wasn’t hurried.
It was slow, easy, like the world hadn’t yet caught up with them.
Glinda let herself lean into it, her hand coming up to cup Elphaba’s cheek, thumb brushing lightly over green skin.
Elphaba hummed against her lips.
Then—the distant sound of a door opening somewhere in the house.
Glinda froze.
Elphaba pulled back, blinking sleepily. “Mmm?”
Glinda covered her face with her hands. “It’s time to go.”
Elphaba groaned, flopping onto her back.
“Do you think the boys will notice if we don’t show up?”
Glinda laughed, burying her face against Elphaba’s shoulder.
“Yes, you idiot.”
Glinda smirked, pressing one last quick kiss to her cheek before pulling herself out of bed.
Elphaba barely had time to step off the last stair before she felt Glinda’s fingers wrap around her wrist.
“Oh no,” Glinda murmured sweetly, tugging her closer. “You’re not sneaking out without saying goodbye.”
Elphaba exhaled sharply, adjusting the strap of her bag.
“I wasn’t sneaking.”
Glinda arched a brow.
Elphaba sighed. “Fine. I was considering it.”
Waiting by the door, Lady Upland stood poised, coffee in hand, expression as unreadable as ever.
Her sharp gaze flicked between them before settling on Glinda.
“I trust you’ve had enough time to refocus,” she said smoothly, her voice carrying the weight of expectation.
Glinda’s spine stiffened ever so slightly. “Something like that.”
Lady Upland’s lips pressed together.
Then—a measured glance toward Elphaba.
“I imagine you have quite a bit to catch up on back at Shiz.”
Elphaba tilted her head. “That’s one way to put it.”
Lady Upland didn’t so much as blink before shifting her attention back to Glinda.
“We’ve taken the liberty of making other arrangements for you this semester,” she said, voice even.
Glinda blinked.
“What?”
Lady Upland took a slow sip of her coffee, setting the cup down with precision before continuing.
“Your father and I agree that it’s beneath you to continue living in a dormitory.”
Elphaba snorted softly.
Glinda shot her a look before turning back to her mother.
“I—what do you mean, beneath me?”
Lady Upland sighed. “We’ve secured an apartment near campus. It’s already furnished. Your things are being moved in today.”
Glinda stared.
Ama Clutch, standing off to the side, simply smiled knowingly.
“That’s… a surprise,” Glinda managed, still processing.
Elphaba nudged her lightly. “I’m sure you’re devastated.”
Glinda nudged her back, eyes narrowing slightly before looking at her mother again. “You just—did this? Without telling me?”
Lady Upland arched a brow. “Would you have argued?”
Glinda opened her mouth.
Closed it.
“…Maybe.”
Her mother’s lips twitched just slightly. “Then it’s good we didn’t ask.”
Elphaba bit back a laugh.
Glinda sighed, shaking her head before looking at Ama Clutch. “And you didn’t think to warn me?”
Ama Clutch patted her cheek fondly. “You’ll love it, duckie.”
Glinda let out a breathless laugh, still in disbelief.
A whole apartment.
Her own space.
Her mind was already turning, shifting, plotting.
Elphaba, beside her, was smirking.
Oh, she knew exactly what Glinda was thinking.
She could see it all over her face.
Lady Upland checked her watch, already moving on. “Your car is waiting. You should be off.”
Glinda shook her head, still trying to process this as Ama Clutch pulled her into a warm hug.
“My duckie,” Ama Clutch murmured, kissing her forehead. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”
Glinda giggled. “No promises.”
Ama then turned to Elphaba, and—without hesitation—gently squeezed her hand.
Elphaba blinked.
“Look after each other,” she said simply.
Elphaba nodded once. “Of course.”
Ama smiled knowingly, then stepped back.
Glinda let out one last deep breath, lacing her fingers through Elphaba’s as she pulled her toward the door.
“We have a train to catch.”
Elphaba allowed herself to be led outside into the crisp morning air.
Behind them, the Upland Estate loomed.
And for the first time—Glinda didn’t look back.