Tea with Elena
The invitation arrived the following morning.
It wasn't an email.
It wasn't a text message.
It was a handwritten card delivered by one of the Ashford family's chauffeurs.
My Dear Ophelia,
It has been far too long since we've shared a proper conversation. If you're free this afternoon, I'd love for you to join me for tea.
With affection, Elena Ashford
A smile tugged at the corner of Ophelia's lips.
It was impossible not to like Elena.
She picked up her phone and replied with a simple message.
"I'd be delighted."
That afternoon...
The Ashford estate looked peaceful beneath the warm afternoon sun.
Unlike the formal dinner or the charity gala, today the mansion felt like a home.
A maid led Ophelia to the back garden.
Elena was already there, arranging freshly baked pastries on a small round table.
"My dear!"
She stood with surprising energy and embraced Ophelia warmly.
"I'm so happy you came."
"So am I."
"I hope Ethan isn't working you too hard with all these invitations."
Ophelia laughed.
"He isn't."
"Good."
Elena poured tea into two delicate porcelain cups.
"I invited you because I wanted to know you..."
"...not as Ethan's guest."
"...but as yourself."
For the briefest moment, Ophelia's heart tightened.
If only that were possible.
She smiled gently instead.
"I appreciate that."
Their conversation drifted from books to travel, from music to art.
Elena listened far more than she spoke.
When Ophelia described why she loved paintings, Elena smiled knowingly.
"Do you know why I enjoy art?"
Ophelia shook her head.
"Because it teaches patience."
She looked toward the roses blooming nearby.
"You can't understand a masterpiece by staring at it for five seconds."
"You have to stay."
"You have to look again."
"And eventually..."
"It tells you its story."
Ophelia couldn't help but think those words applied to people as well.
A few minutes later...
The sound of footsteps echoed across the stone pathway.
"Ethan."
He smiled as he entered the garden.
"I thought I'd find you here."
"You interrupted our girl talk," Elena teased.
"I came bearing gifts."
He held up a small paper bag.
"Your favorite lemon biscuits, Grandmother."
Elena's eyes lit up.
"You're forgiven."
The three of them laughed together.
For a little while...
Everything felt wonderfully ordinary.
From an upstairs window...
Celeste Harrison watched the garden in silence.
Her expression remained unreadable.
A maid approached cautiously.
"Ma'am?"
"What is it?"
"Mr. Nathan called."
Celeste didn't look away from the window.
"What did he want?"
"He asked if Miss Ophelia had visited the estate again."
A slow smile appeared on Celeste's face.
"Tell him..."
"...she's becoming quite comfortable here."
The maid nodded and quietly left.
Celeste remained by the window.
"Interesting..."
She whispered.
"Let's see how long your secrets remain buried."
As the afternoon came to an end, Elena walked Ophelia to the front entrance herself.
Before Ophelia got into Ethan's car, Elena gently held her hand.
"My dear..."
"There is something I want you to remember."
Ophelia looked at her.
"If you ever find yourself carrying a burden too heavy to bear..."
"...don't carry it alone."
The words caught Ophelia off guard.
She forced a small smile.
"I'll remember."
As Ethan drove away, Ophelia looked back through the rear window.
Elena was still standing at the entrance, waving with a warm smile.
For just a moment...
Ophelia wondered what it would feel like to have someone like Elena as family.
Then she quickly pushed the thought aside.
She couldn't afford dreams.
Not until April received justice.
Late that night...
Inside her apartment, Ophelia emptied her handbag onto the table.
Her notebook.
Her keys.
The university program.
And...
A folded piece of cream-colored paper.
She frowned.
"I didn't put this in here."
Carefully unfolding it, she found only one typed sentence.
"Some doors should never be opened."
There was no signature.
No fingerprints.
Nothing.
Ophelia stared at the message for a long moment.
Then, very slowly...
She smiled.
"Now I know."
"I'm asking the right questions."
She locked the note inside her evidence box.
Outside her apartment...
A figure stood beneath a streetlight, watching a single window.
Then, without a sound...
The figure disappeared into the night.
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