Jitters

Weddings are a stressful time for everyone involved.

Especially for the bride, Viorel thinks.
He hasn’t been to too many weddings; both his depleting circle of colleagues and disinterest for any type of celebration made sure of that.
But with one look at his sister, he knew they took up too much time and energy than it's worth.

Seeing Nina with bags under her eyes, her once rosy cheeks pale with worry where she should be glowing with excitement. Well, that just makes him want to violently flick someone’s forehead (preferably her doltish fiancé).

He was currently looking for said sister. Her plate full of wedding errands went ignored for most of the day and bride-to-be or not, Viorel was not about to tolerate tardiness in this household.
Though he knew of her 9 AM date with her friends, he doubted she could survive a luncheon with them for more than 5 hours.

A scoff nearly escaped his throat when she referred to those catty, perfume-snorting crows as friends.
Every subtle jab and snide comments she waves off as cheeky and benign is another white hair on his head from the years it takes off of his life to see her be so… Naive.

No. Obtuse.

The pristine white hallways of their mansion’s east wing glowed under the afternoon sun’s light; marble floors looked pearlescent and looming portraits of long forgotten great great grandparents became shrouded in the shadows, untouched by orange coloured beams.

It felt almost symbolic how he was the one walking through rows upon rows of golden rays.

A proverbial spotlight perhaps.

They were old money, in case their tasteless last name hasn’t given it away.
Being the nth generation of the Diamanté family meant being surrounded by unholy spawns of greedy goats scrambling for a turn in the metaphorical glistening golden throne.

Flatulent men in suits and their petulant sons and daughters, a common combination ubiquitous in every wine garden party and charity fundraisers he’d attended.
Where he spent his time mingling with food and drinks rather than people. Rarely were any of them worth the time to get to know better. There wasn’t really anything to find out. A shallow puddle pretending to be a deep and mysterious ocean.

And that was why he didn’t have any friends.

Viorel nearly stopped in his tracks.

Well that was just mean.

Instead of dwelling on the sullen mood slowly taking over the previously peaceful quietude he surrounded himself with, Viorel continued with his little quest to find that cosseted sister of his.

With dark hazelnut hair, footsteps in a unique pattern and a voice like a songbird’s, he’d think a girl like that would be easy to find.

Peeking into empty rooms, barren alcoves and desolate balconies, he’s starting to think that maybe Nina is purposefully avoiding him.

Viorel had asked their butler for confirmation, and sure enough, that girl was somewhere in the building.
“Miss Nina came home an hour ago. She ran to her room and I haven’t seen her since, sir.” The 50-year-old Hubert had informed him.

Briskly ingraining his shoes across the mansion, Viorel neither found nor heard of anything from the staff.

He paid the housekeepers’ flitting about no mind, especially since he knew they were purposefully steering clear of him and avoiding his eyes.

Unlike his sister’s benign disposition, Viorel’s six foot frame and frigid countenance paired with his (wrongly perceived) misanthropic behaviour was probably the reason for people’s apprehensions when coming face to face with him and his exceeding reputation.

So he mostly doesn't bother and only gives passing staffs, a brief, greeting glance.

What Viorel wasn't privy of, was that he looked absolutely terrifying to them. His dark eyes not supporting the lifeless death stare he gives everyone that even comes close to his general direction.

That is also why he didn’t have any friends.

Viorel’s brows furrowed.

His mind is quite rude, as it turns out.

Getting impatient and slightly ill at ease, he resorted to calling Nina’s most trusted confidant, second to him, of course; Her future husband.

That’s how he ended up in an inconspicuous corner, glaring down at his cell as if it would tell him where she is so he wouldn’t have to call that raggedy urchin in designer clothing.

Viorel tightly clenched his phone, forcing his opposite pointer finger to open his contacts, scroll down to the correct group of letters, and finally finding the name of his future brother-in-law.

His hands shook from the death grip he had on the poor phone, gagging from having to voluntarily call that— That— Scamp!

Smoothing back the loose strands that escaped his gelled blonde hair, Viorel swallowed his dignity with a deep breath and pressed the green button.

Avoiding having to look at his annoying mug plastered on his dialling screen, Viorel immediately put the phone to his ear, the repeating long beeps at least worked on easing the deep scowl on his face.

“Hello?”

Images of badly dyed black hair, green eyes and a toothy smile invaded his mind and Viorel had to hold back a loud and purposeful sigh.

He instead settled on a Tsk.

“Jasper.” Viorel greeted. Voice level despite the cold-blooded glare he was sending to the tall antique vase beside him, the poor china standing in for the man on the other end of the line.

“What a pleasant surprise! You’ve never called me on my cell before.” He could hear the rustling of papers being moved around.

“Well— the last time you did, you were threatening to um, rearrange my face after I asked Nina out. And you sent me a cease-and-desist letter when we started dating. And… cussed me out over the phone after I proposed… While I was— at my uncle’s funeral.”

Viorel pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes tightly wound close, both a physical and mental restrain from lashing out at the younger man for wasting precious seconds with sob stories.

“Jasper, I wouldn’t have called you for no reason.”

“Yes! O-Of course.”

He heard him take a breath.

“Whaaat is uuup… Dude..?”

Viorel decided to ignore that.

“Do you know where Nina is? She seems to be avoiding me in our own home.”

“Oh, I haven’t seen her all day.”

“But you have talked to her.” The blonde pressed.

“I— well, yes. But— she doesn’t really… Want you to know.”

An icy blanket fell over his face, a mask of disdain and anger covering a much more vulnerable feeling of uneasiness. Because as friendless as he is, there is one person he could always trust and if she's finding it difficult to do the same with him, then what was the point of him?

Why would Nina deliberately keep something from him?
Was it his fault that she felt she couldn’t be honest with him?

But all of that bundled up timorousness translated into a vicious warning more befitting a protective big brother.
“Are you keeping the whereabouts of my sister a secret from me, Jasper?”

He could almost see the man jump up from his seat.

“No! No, of course not! She was talking about you, is all.”

“Explain.” He demanded tersely.

“She sounded nervous when I called her. I think it was at about eleven? Twelve?
She was on her way home. I heard her ask Mr. Aarons to drop her off by the stables.”

Mr. Aarons is their chauffeur.
And Nina didn’t like horses.
She didn’t trust their big bodies and blank eyes.
Viorel couldn’t think of anything she would want to do there.

Nonetheless, that was the most he’s found out after an entire afternoon spent sniffing about like a bloodhound.

“So she’s at the stables then?”

His legs moved before his lips, austere steps heavy against thick carpets.

“No, she went inside after like 5 minutes.”

Abruptly stopping beside a high reaching window, Viorel sighed. All he wanted was to know where his sister was. Why did it feel like things were falling into place so perfectly to prevent him from doing just that?

It's either the universe pulling on his leg, or this boy is maddeningly daft.

“Then where is she, Jasper?”

He must have allowed a smidgeon of frustration to colour his tone because Jasper became silent before clearing his throat, probably in an attempt to sound evenly serious.

“In her room. She kept on talking about how she needed to do something important. I thought she meant her meetings.

So when she asked me not to tell you anything, I assumed its because she didn’t want you to know she was behind on them.”

Her errands was the last thing on his mind ever since he started this damned call.

“I checked her room. She wasn’t there.”

Jasper hummed, then timidly suggested,

“Do you think, maybe, she’s been secretly doing them?”

Glancing out the window, Viorel's gaze zoned in towards the gardener that was tending to the lily-of-the-valleys around their fish pond.
His brown eyes narrowed.

“Hm. Maybe.”

There was one last staff who he hasn’t questioned.
One who would definitely spot someone snooping around the manor grounds.

And he’s been on this pointless phone call with Jasper for far too long.

“Well then, thank you Jasper.”

“Y-Your very welcome! I’m happy to help any—“

Viorel ended the call.

-------------------

Long, flowering shoots of purple and blues swayed to the breeze.

A dainty hand reached out to pick a single stem, bringing it up to alert brown eyes that examined the tall flower, making sure it had the right colour she was looking for.

It was.

But just in case, she picked another one that’s similar in hue.

“Nina.”

The woman’s whole body flinched.

Crouched down in front of lavender shrubs, the brunette refused to look back and meet her brother’s eyes.

Sweat started dotting her temple, she shouldn’t have gone out with a blazer in this clear and sunny weather.

“Nina." He urged. The tone he used was bordering on both exasperation and caution.

She couldn’t exactly stay frozen there forever and hope that if she doesn’t move, he’ll stop seeing her and walk away.

Nina slowly stood up, as if one wrong movement would give away more than she should tell.
Her feet shuffled tiny circles until she ended up facing Viorel.

Well, Her body was facing him. Her gaze stayed glued to the ground.

At least the grass wouldn’t look at her all sad and perplexed.

“Do you want to tell me why you’re out here picking flowers by yourself?”

Viorel’s gentle coo only made her heart pace quicken.
He wasn’t supposed to know she was out here. He wasn’t supposed to worry more than he already has.

The hand holding the flowers she just picked wrought fingers with the other, her nerves getting the better of her.

If anything it made her look even more guilty, and therefore, suspicious.

“They smell nice.”
She made a show of sniffing the flowers, eyes glancing back and forth from the partially crushed lavenders and his unamused stare.

“Uh-uh. And what about the stables?” Viorel crossed his arms, chin tilted up with a brow raised. He was definitely unimpressed.

Nina’s shoulders scrunched up, always expressive and honest that one. Which is why she’s a bad liar, and for that reason she doesn’t bother denying it, if only to ascertain how much he actually knows.

“How did you know that?”

“I’m your brother. I’m supposed to know everything.” He shrugged, eyes glancing away in a display of nonchalance, like it's easy to keep tabs on your adult sister.

Gosh, her brother needs something else to do.

But as her mind scrambled to retrace her steps, trying to remember who else knows of —
Her eyes widened in horror.

No. She wouldn't have—
“Did Aunt Rosie—?” She stammered, not giving away too much but enough to be vague.

Viorel’s posture deflated from his over-the-top pompous stance a second ago, sulky annoyance replaced by confusion.

“Aunt Rosie? What does she have to do with this?”

Nina struggled to keep her reactions at bay and not blow out a massive breath of relief. Instead schooling her face into a reserved frown.

“Who did you call, Vi?”

There was no other person she told about her little side mission. Unless she counted that vague call to Jasper.

She wondered.

Looking at her brother, really taking in the minute shifts in his expression, she saw agitation. When she found disgust in his downturned lips and a pinch of annoyance in his evasive eyes, she put two on two together and this time could not help letting a grin bloom on her lips.

“You called Jasper?”

He hesitated.

“… No.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet!” It was her turn to coo, much to his chagrin.

He grumbled incoherently, massaging his temple.

“It was an emergency.” Both his hands chopped the air to emphasise his point.

Her being absent for a few hours should not count for an emergency, Nina realised. Her smile wavered, seeing him glare at his shoes, occasionally shaking his head and twisting his lips in displeasure.

She recognised when he's having an inner battle with himself. An argument he, more often than not, lost.

The woman stepped closer, the crunching grass made Viorel look up.

“I’m sorry. For making you worry.” Nina placed a hand to his arm.

An unspoken exchange with his hand patting hers.

Viorel stepped away and gestured to their house.

“Come on.”

She followed behind.

The air around her swirling with foreboding silence as she hoped the distortion in her vision was just her imagination and not the sign of imminent doom.

-------------------

Viorel pushed open two, heavy set earth-brown curtains.

The ceiling reaching window overlooked the green hedged grounds of the west yard.

He looped a ribbon around the curtains, keeping them hooked on the wall and letting the early evening light illuminate the room’s interior.

Painted yellow walls with white cornice depicting little cherubs and vague filigree looked far too young and childish for a woman in her mid twenties.

Tall wardrobes line the side of the room, white wooden cabinets where she keeps trinkets, old clothes and toys beside it.

A flat screen television collecting dust in the middle of the farthest wall, facing the bed.

The bed is small. Compared to the rest of the giant furnitures, it was modest and normal looking, unlike his which was picked by their parents and he hasn’t bothered to change; With it’s wide berth, ankle deep comforters and high canopy that makes him feel like he’s scheduled for morning tea with the duchess every time he wakes up.

Hers was a modern piece of a sleek wooden frame and a normal, cushiony mattress.

On the walls were years of memories preserved in framed photographs, hung on random heights, giving them that spontaneous charm.

The edges of his lips tilt upwards seeing one; both of them smiling widely to the camera, hip-to-hip in front of a giant theatre where they watched their first musical play.

Perusing her bookshelves, he found no new titles; all of her books were either hand downs from him or random coffee table reads their parents bought soon after the house was made.

His eyes caught the reading table opposing the window.

It was tidy, save for a few papers cluttered in the middle.
Something to do with the wedding, he guessed.

Good, he thought, she's been keeping up with her to-do list.

Though he frowned when he saw an array of candies and chocolates in the corner.

“I see you’ve been stress-eating sweets again.”

He didn’t see the way Nina stopped her fussing with the stack of clothes she hasn’t packed.

“Yeah… Stress-eating.”

Viorel heard the qualm in her voice but misinterpreted it for something else.

He sighed.

Walking over, he sat on the foot of her bed.
He felt more than saw Nina sitting beside him, her weight dipping down the narrow bed.

They were both silent for a few moments, a pair of siblings staring forward.
At what? Nothing, really.

“Are you alright?” He tried.

He still had his eyes pointed away.
For a passing minute he was thinking that she wouldn't budge.

But when a quiet sniffle cut through the stillness, he turned his head.

Nina looked down at her lap, at the crushed lavender flowers, tears dripping onto them.

“Its just… A lot.“ Her small whisper wrung his heart dry.

Viorel knew sadness, but nothing has yet to compare to seeing his sister cry.

The man placed an arm around her shoulders, gripping it tightly in reassurance. “Is this about your friends?”

“It’s about everything!” She suddenly wailed, nearly causing him to topple off the bed with her outburst.

She sighed and slumped down, back hunching and arms encircling her knees.

“My friends, the wedding,”

She sniffed.

“You.”

What?

“Me?”

His inner self shook in trepidation as one of his worse fears came to life right in front of him.

It is his fault.

Nina sighed again, this time fully folding up her legs and perching her chin on her knees.

“I’m tired, Vi. Everyday, I wake up anxious about everything. At the restaurant, they were being so mean. And I just couldn’t hold myself back. I snapped at them! I never snap.”

Of all the things that could upset her, a pack of rabid gossipers in sequins and Swarovski is what ticks him off the most. Thoughts of forged accidents and strategic rumour-spreading nudged out his previous concerns.

His face must have conveyed those plans because not a second later did Nina plant a weak but firm punch to his front shoulder.

“And no, I don’t want you to do anything either. It was mostly my fault. I gave them too much to work with.”

He wanted to disagree, but her impatient tapping fingers told him there was more to it than that.

“Jasper’s a huge help with the wedding, but I just feel like we’re not doing enough, not the way it could be.”

With a shallow inhale, she gained enough courage to go eye-to-eye with her older brother, and tell him,

“You’re a bit too stifling, Vi.”

It was like an arrow had launched and planted itself right through his chest.

Ah. So he was being too overbearing.

Of course. 

He’ll make sure to hide in his room and not come out until the wedding when his sister will leave and he’ll be by himself in this big, impersonal cage they call a house.

He wasn’t expressing any of this in real time, but she must have seen something anyway, because then she grabbed his arm.

“You’re not— in the way, but… I just want to have the freedom to do what I want for the wedding.”

Oh. Right.

She wants artistic freedom. Not to cut ties.

Apparently he was quiet for too long, because she quickly added
“I can do it. I know you might not trust me to handle this big thing but—”

“Nina.”

Viorel relented. She was getting married. This was her time.

He expressed as much with a kind smile and a hand on top of her head.

“I’m sorry for making you feel that way. I only want what’s best for you. And who better knows that than yourself?”

Her wide, teary eyes shone with hope and wonder. It was the same look she gave him when they were kids and he helped her open a tightly lidded jar of cookies.

Back then and now, it still gives him the warmest burst of pride in his chest.

“If you feel like you’re ready, then I believe you.”

She smiled and his own smile grew wider.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Viorel took the dying tension and turned it comfortable as he gave her the roughest of hair ruffle, causing her carefully curled and pinned locks to stick out in different directions.

She looked like a mess with a red nose and tear streaked cheeks but the widest grin stretching between them was as warm as he felt right now.

“Now, stop crying. It's just jitters. It’ll pass, I promise.”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Just know that I’m a way better listener than your little boyfriend.”

“Husband.” Nina corrected, playfully narrowing her eyes at him.

He shrugged. “We’ll see.”

“Ha ha.” She rolled her eyes but knocked her knee to his anyway.

Viorel stood up, stretching in his creaseless shirt rolled at the sleeves, ever the dapper man even at home.

“Alright. I’ll go now. I’m sure you’re busy, being a wedding planner, and all.”

And then that looming cloud came back.

She still gave him a smile as he went.

“… Yeah.”

Once he closed the door behind him, the air grew thick with suffocating pressure.

The flowers on her lap seemed wicked.

It reeked of death.

Nina got up and placed them on her reading table, alongside a lighter and a gold coin hidden deep in her pocket.

When she unfurled a piece of old and wrinkled paper scrawled with seemingly unintelligible words (but she knew of their true, profane meaning), she only hoped Viorel could forgive her for what she’s about to do.