Conveniences
Caitlyn Kiramman stood before the full-length mirror in her bedroom, tugging irritably at the delicate lace sleeves of her evening gown. The rich sapphire fabric clung to her figure in all the ways her mother deemed appropriate—not too revealing, not too modest. A perfect balance. Yet to Caitlyn, it felt like a cage, a physical manifestation of the expectations she carried like an invisible weight.
She turned to the small terrarium by the window, where her pet turtle rested on a smooth rock:
"Here it is, Charlotte." Caitlyn asked, her voice tinged with frustration. "Another evening of meaningless chatter with people who only care about their own reflections in the mirror."
Charlotte blinked slowly, her head moving slightly as if in agreement.
"You’re lucky, you know. No one expects you to smile and nod and act like you’re utterly fascinated by whatever nonsense they’re spouting." Caitlyn sighed and leaned closer to the glass.
Charlotte responded by stretching out one of her stubby legs, her serene demeanor a stark contrast to Caitlyn’s simmering irritation.
The faint hum of activity from downstairs drifted into her room—voices mingling with the clinking of crystal glasses and soft strains of orchestral music. Caitlyn’s gaze flicked to the door.
"Guess I’d better get down there before Mother sends a search party," she muttered. "Wish me luck."
Charlotte remained still, her calm presence offering a strange kind of comfort. Caitlyn straightened up and ran a brush through her dark hair one last time, applying a final touch of lip gloss before descending the grand staircase.
The sight that greeted her was as expected as it was detestable. Lavish decorations adorned the expansive dining room and parlor. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting a warm glow over guests draped in opulent gowns and finely tailored suits. Laughter and polite conversation filled the air, but Caitlyn could see through the polished veneer—the calculating eyes, the hidden agendas.
She navigated the crowd with practiced ease, exchanging pleasantries and offering polite smiles.
Her mother, Cassandra Kiramman, was in her element, gliding through the room with the grace of a seasoned politician, her every word and gesture meticulously calculated. Caitlyn envied her mother’s ability to wear her mask so effortlessly.
It wasn’t long before Caitlyn’s mother approached her, a proud smile on her lips and a young man in tow. Caitlyn’s attention snapped to him immediately. He was tall and striking, with an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance. His tailored suit fit perfectly, and his dark brown eyes scanned the room with an analytical sharpness that reminded her of her own.
"Caitlyn, I’d like you to meet Jayce Talis," her mother said, her tone carrying an unmistakable undercurrent of significance. "Jayce, this is my daughter, Caitlyn."
Caitlyn extended her hand, her curiosity piqued despite herself. Jayce’s grip was firm but not overbearing, his smile warm but measured.
"It’s a pleasure to meet you," he said, his voice smooth and self-assured.
"Likewise," Caitlyn replied, though her tone was more guarded. Her gaze flicked to her mother, who was watching them with an almost predatory anticipation. Caitlyn felt a knot tighten in her stomach.
"Jayce comes from a family of artisans," Cassandra continued, her tone effortlessly weaving pride and subtle condescension. "They’ve recently made great strides in the technological sector. His work with Hextech has garnered quite a bit of attention. He won't need much effort to get into a top college. My congratulations, boy."
Jayce’s smile didn’t waver, though Caitlyn caught the briefest flicker of tension in his jaw.
"We’re grateful for the opportunities we’ve had," he said smoothly. "And I’m especially grateful to be here tonight."
Caitlyn barely resisted the urge to laugh. It was clear he knew how to play this game as well as anyone in the room.
But what was he doing here? Her mother rarely invited anyone without a clear purpose.
The answer came far too quickly.
"Jayce is an impressive young man," Cassandra said, placing a hand on Caitlyn’s arm. "And I thought it might be nice for the two of you to get to know each other better."
Caitlyn froze, her mind racing. This wasn’t just another social gathering. It was a setup. Her mother’s carefully curated event wasn’t about networking or politics; it was about introducing her to a suitor.
"I..." Caitlyn started, but the words caught in her throat. She glanced at Jayce, who met her gaze with an expression she couldn’t quite read. Was he in on this? Did he know?
The room seemed to close in around her, the laughter and music fading to a distant hum. Her mother’s grip on her arm tightened ever so slightly, a silent command to play along.
"It’s an honor," Jayce said, stepping in to fill the awkward silence. "I’ve heard so much about you, Caitlyn."
She forced a smile, her mind screaming for an escape:
"Likewise," she managed, the words tasting hollow.
The evening continued, a blur of polite conversation and unspoken tension. Caitlyn played her role to perfection, but inside, she fumed. Her mother’s manipulation was nothing new, but this—using her as a pawn in some grand social scheme—was a step too far.
As the night wore on, Caitlyn couldn’t help but steal glances at Jayce. Despite her resentment toward the situation, she found herself intrigued. There was something about him, a determination that mirrored her own, though it was buried beneath layers of practiced charm.
By the time the guests began to depart, Caitlyn’s resolve had hardened. She would confront her mother, demand answers. But as she watched Cassandra Kiramman bid their guests farewell with her usual grace, Caitlyn knew one thing for certain:
The game had just begun.