Orla felt brand new.
It felt like a new wave of confidence pierced her while she slept overnight.
She could no longer feel the anxiety and unknown fears that always haunted her whenever she thought about her family.
She was ready now, she wanted to face them now.
And as Callan gave her words of encouragement before they left home that morning, she knew she couldn't back away from this anymore.
She was ready.
Her arm was clasped around Callan's arm, her eyes fixated on the colossal edifice that stood in front of her.
Her father's mansion hadn't gotten any newer or older, it was the same. As if no changes had been made since she left.
"We are here," Callan gave her a small smile, compelling her to carry on.
Orla returned the smile. She hoped that her fears wouldn't creep in as soon as she set eyes on her family. Even if it did, she planned to fight it off. She was no longer the weak Orla they used to know. She was stronger.
She nodded, swallowing a lump that gobbled down her throat. Her palms quickly turned sweaty.
Callan deeply felt her anxiety building up as her arm shook. But he smiled, it was okay to be nervous. What mattered was that she wouldn't let her anxiety get the best of her, and she would get her mission done.
"Yes, we are.” she said shakily. "Callan.”
"You said you would come here and now that you are here. You should face it as promised, don't run away now."
"I won't," a fresh wave of reliance hit her again. She knew she didn't want to let her husband down.
She released her arm from Callan's grip. The first rule of being confident was appearance. That was settled.
Her striking, floor-length crimson gown adorned with intricate details and a flowing silhouette was perfect. Liam made sure it was perfect.
Callan's gaze fell on her, he extended his hand and she took it.
Her confidence level increased by a millionfold. They were connected. At some point in life, they knew they needed each other's support and company.
"Sophia is here," she informed him when the gates pulled open to a black SUV—one that she had recognized to belong to her sister.
"Now, we are ready." Callan stared at her again. His eyes squinted in question as if to ask if she was ready.
She got the inkling and smiled, "Never been readier, Callan."
Sophia approached them, smiling but her smile faltered when she saw Orla. Her heart burned, she had hurt her sister so much even Orla had no idea what she had done to her.
"Let's move in," she nudged them with her head, taking the lead.
Sophia didn't have too much on. Her makeup was bland, not as heavy as Orla's.
Her sleeveless A-line blue dress stopped at her knees, revealing her toned legs.
It was unlike Sophia's to wear dresses. She usually donned baggy clothes. Wearing a dress seemed strange, but she still looked very pretty in it.
The low-heeled pink stilettos she wore perfectly matched her dress. The subtle sounds her heels produced reverberated on the tiles.
It was obvious she wasn't used to that kind of outfit, but for her sister's sake, she had to.
As Orla walked in with Sophia and Callan, she wondered if Sophia had finally let go of her love for women.
Sophia was a stud. But now she was putting on dresses and barely brought a female to the family gatherings like she used to. Even though Orla was never part of whatever they did in the family, she didn't fail to know that her sister had never been a girly’s girl.
They weren't close, she would have asked what happened to her. But whatever it was, it seemed good for her.
When Sophis slid into the foyer, Orla could vividly hear sisters cheering from where she stood outside with Callan.
Envy throbbed in her chest. If only they would be that delighted when she entered with Callan.
"I have never been wanted there.” she already envisioned their chagrin the moment they set eyes on her.
Her hand lingered on the doorknob, unmoving. She didn't have enough courage to pull it open. Callan noticed and asked if she needed his help, but she shook her head.
She just needed time to muster enough vigour. He understood her at every point, patiently giving her time to do whatever she wanted to do.
After five minutes, she pushed the door open.
All eyes turned towards her direction as she stepped into the living room with grace.
Giving her stares like, no one invited her. What was she doing there?
Orla carried herself with confidence, concealing her trepidation deep inside of her. She stared at her sisters and her father, all looking stunned. Too stunned to even speak. So she began.
"Good day, Everyone and happy birthday to you, Amelia."
She moved close to Callan, tightening her grip around his hand. She was almost losing her confidence, she needed to replenish it.
When they didn't stop gawking at her, she smiled devilishly.
Amelia jumped up, rage taking over her self-control. She looked between Sophia, Callan and Orla. She could easily detect something was off.
"What are you doing here, Orla? I didn't invite you to ruin my day." Her eyes flamed, her fury yet to be unleashed in its full form.
Amelia's resplendent full dress was a symphony of colors and textures wiggled as her body angrily trembled with every word she spoke.
"There is nothing wrong in coming to felicitate with my dear sister, is there?" Orla gave her a small, genuine smile. "Oh, I forgot to bring your present. Don't bother, I will send it in after our business here today."
Orla turned to Callan, gesturing for him to take a seat on the couch. She crouched next to him, caressing his fingers; that seemed to be her source of confidence and strength. His touch was everything that she yearned for.
When Orla noticed Arnold, she was forced to mutter a word of greeting that was successfully ignored.
"What's going on here?" Arnold looked at Sophia. "Why did you bring them into my house without my permission?"
Orla studied her father. There were sprinkles of more grey hair on his head, he looked a bit older than the last time she saw him. But he was still as handsome as she had remembered him to be.
"Dad, your daughter does not need permission to visit your house, especially not when she has been lied to all her life," Sophia grumbled, jolting her sisters out of their dazes, and preparing their minds for what was to come that day.
"I don't know what you're talking about. But whatever it is, remains your business. I need them to leave this house now, she doesn't belong here." Mia stood to her feet, her eyes bloodshot with resentment as she walked towards Sophia where she was comfortably sprawled out on the couch. "How the hell can you bring them to the house without our knowledge."
"Oh, Mia. Spare me that crap," Sophia stood up to her. "They are here for a good cause and until they are done, no one leaves.”
Orla wasn't comfortable where she sat with Callan. The last thing she wanted was for a fight to happen between her sisters because of her.
She gripped Callan tighter, and he assured her that it was fine by lightly rubbing her fingers.
"Dad, I have some things to say to everyone in the family. This might not make sense to everyone now especially since it's just coming out now." Sophia glared at Mia.
"What do you have to say?" Mila shouted from across the room, clearly uninterested.
Her eyes shimmered beautifully. As Orla stared at her, she noticed for the first time that she shared a striking resemblance with Mila. She could easily pass for her twin but without the ginger hair of course.
"What do you want to talk about?" Someone asked in a soft voice.
They shot their heads up to see that it was Emma's voice.
Orla smiled briefly, wondering when the girl with the loudest voice suddenly had a small voice.
There were so many things that had changed about her siblings or maybe so many things she didn't know about them.
Sophia drooped her head, anger and shame consuming her. She fiddled with her fingers as she lifted her head to face everyone who was seated, eagerly waiting for her to speak up.
"This is about what happened years ago. What happened to our dead sister, Isla Sullivan."