Chaos. That was what all of this was, Ophelia thought as she stared depressingly into her own dishevelled reflection in the mirror of Christian's washroom. Humiliation surged through her veins at the sheer memory of the look etched upon Zachary's face when he caught her and Christian in each other's arms, and now Christian had gone after his brother, hopefully to mend burnt bridges. And what was she doing? Absolutely nothing at all. If Ophelia had been the sort to run way when things got hard, she might have taken the easy way out by just Disapparating out of Christian's place; but running away was never Ophelia's style. She didn't run away from anyone. People run away from her. No, Opie was going to wait for the only man she had ever sincerely, genuinely loved in the entirety of her life, and they were going to solve this, because she sure as hell was not giving them up again.
Whatever inebriation which she'd suffered several minutes ago had long since sobered up. She fixed her hair in the mirror and attempted at fixing her makeup for as much as she could manage, because when Opie did something, she did it with dignity. If she was going to talk and fix this with Christian, she was going to do it looking like a lady worthy of being on his arm, not like some rat-tat peasant from the streets. Her slender body jolted slightly as a faint, familiar call drifted from outside and she glanced towards the flung-open door of Christian's apartment before looking back into the mirror. You are Ophelia Veuve, you can do this, you are not giving him up. She moved her feet for the door, her face a touch paler than it usually was as she waited for Christian. The first thing she said upon laying eyes on him was, "I should've never came, I'm sorry."
So long for you can do this.
legacy era • financing director, veuve universal • age 36
signature credit to mel