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delusionalbutsparkly · 5 months ago

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Magic behind the Veil - fantasy/possible romance/mystery

Some spells never break. Some grief never fades. And some truths refuse to stay buried. [ A/N: Been stuck on a story, and...well...an idea for THIS one jumped in my brain, nagging at me...so I started to write it. I wanted to share with you all, and see what you thought! Enjoy!! <3 ] -------------------- One year, five months, and nineteen days.

Time stretched strangely—forever ago, yet just yesterday. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t bring myself to pack his things away. His movies were still in our walk-in closet, tucked behind neatly hung shirts on his side, while mine looked like a tornado had struck.

I reached for one of his jackets, fingers brushing against the worn fabric. It still smelled like him—faint traces of cedarwood and fresh linen. My hand curled around the hanger, heart pounding as I pulled it an inch off the rack. Just put it in a box. Just start.

But my chest tightened. My vision blurred.

With a sharp inhale, I let go, the hanger swinging slightly as it settled back into place. Not today.

Instead, I poured myself another glass of Barefoot Moscato, Rascal Flatts playing softly in the background as I sank onto the couch, staring at our wedding photos.

The ivory dress hugged my curves, my light brown hair falling past my shoulders in a simple half-up style. A sheer veil framed my face, and Nicholas—his deep blue eyes shining behind those familiar glasses—looked at me as if I were his entire world.

"Such a beautiful young bride," I could still hear people saying. Even my mother, despite wishing I had waited a few more years. But I had known—no, felt—it in my bones. Nicholas was the man I’d spend forever with.

And now… forever had been cut short.

I glanced around the living room, the room heavy with memories; Slow dancing with no music. Cuddling through Sunday movies. Me curled up with a book while he watched the game, occasionally glancing over just to smile at me. Now, there was only silence. Only me.

The television buzzed in the background, a news anchor’s voice pulling me from my daze.

"More reports have surfaced regarding the alleged ‘miracle healing’ at the St. Augustine Hospital. Witnesses claim to have seen a bright light emanating from the hands of an unidentified man before security footage mysteriously corrupted. Is this proof that magic still exists in our world? Officials maintain it’s a hoax, but believers continue to—”

I grabbed the remote and shut off the TV.

Magic. Right. Magic had died out centuries ago. People had been saying for years that sorcerers and wizards still walked among us, hiding in plain sight, but no one had ever been able to prove it. Just another conspiracy theory for people desperate to believe in something.

I settled back onto the couch, about to take another sip of wine, when there was a knock at the door.

Rhythmic. Familiar.

I sighed, already knowing who it was.

Shuffling off the couch, I made my way to the door and pulled it open. “Hey, Stace.”

Even on a night like this, Stacy Wagner would never enter a room like a normal person. She stepped inside like she owned the place, her blonde waves bouncing as she tossed her clutch onto my entryway table.

She had been my rock through everything. Never judgmental, never telling me I should be “moving on” or “getting out more.” Stacy never scolded me for spending more time with my grief than the outside world. She let me mourn. But she also never let me forget that there was a world outside of this house, waiting for me when I was ready.

And now, judging by the look she gave me—the one that was equal parts I love you and it’s time, Kairi—she apparently had decided that tonight was the night.

“Kairi Acer, don’t tell me you forgot,” she said, beelining for my wine and pouring herself a glass.

I blinked. "Forgot... what?"

Stacy narrowed her eyes as she pulled out her phone, the pink bedazzled case catching the light as she tapped the screen. A second later, my own phone chimed. I glanced down.

A screenshot. A text conversation. Her asking if I wanted to meet for drinks. My thumbs-up reaction in response.

Oh, shit.

I looked back up, shoulders sagging. There was no getting out of this now.

“Technically, I didn’t sign anything—”

“Thumbs up is confirmation, therefore, it is a legally binding contract that you, Kairi Acer, agreed to go out for drinks tonight,” she said matter-of-factly, taking a sip of my wine and smirking like she’d just won a court case.

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “I hate you.”

“No, you love me.” She winked. “Now go get dressed. We’re leaving in fifteen.”

---------------------- The city blurred past the Uber window, neon lights smearing across the glass like watercolors. I watched them absently, my thoughts drifting to the apartment I could have been curled up in right now. To the glass of wine I could have been nursing. To the fact that, even after nearly a year, the other side of my closet still looked untouched.

I tugged my dark green knit sweater lower over my hands, exhaling slowly.

Then, out of nowhere, a phone screen was shoved directly in my face.

I jerked back. “What the hell—”

“Say hiiiiiii,” Stacy sang, practically shoving herself into my lap to get the camera angle right.

A familiar voice crackled through the speaker. “I swear, if this is another attempt to make Kairi socialize—”

I blinked as Luka Sinclair’s face filled the screen.

Tall, dark-haired, hazel eyes that always looked a little sleepy but still sharp underneath. He was sprawled out somewhere—probably at home, considering the obnoxiously pink throw blanket Stacy kept at his place was draped over his shoulder.

“Hi, Luka,” I said dryly, lifting a hand in an awkward half-wave.

“Ah, she speaks,” he teased. “You being held hostage, or did you willingly agree to this?”

“She agreed,” Stacy huffed, shifting the camera back to herself. “It’s called growth, Luka. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

Luka smirked. “That’s rich, coming from someone who still refuses to use the self-checkout line.”

Stacy gasped. “Those things are evil and you know it!”

Despite myself, I snorted.

Luka’s smirk deepened as he glanced back at me. “See, I knew she still had a sense of humor.”

I shook my head. Luka had always been laid-back and teasing, the perfect counterweight to Stacy’s high-energy personality.

“Alright, babe,” he said, stretching lazily. “Text me if you need a ride home. Kairi, try not to let her drink the bar dry.”

“No promises,” I muttered.

Stacy ended the call with a satisfied sigh, locking her phone and tucking it into her clutch. “God, I love him.”

I smirked. “I never would’ve guessed.”

She nudged me with her elbow but didn’t bother arguing. Instead, she turned to me with a knowing grin, eyes scanning my outfit.

“So, you do own clothes that aren’t leggings and an oversized hoodie.”

I rolled my eyes, tugging at the loose sleeve of my dark green knit sweater, pulling it over my palm. It was soft, worn-in, comfortable. Paired with dark jeans and ankle boots, it was my version of presentable.

Stacy, on the other hand, had shown up dressed to kill. Her black leather leggings fit perfectly, her sapphire-blue camisole tucked beneath a cropped blazer. The curls in her dark blonde hair looked effortless, but I knew she had spent at least twenty minutes getting them just right.

She sighed dramatically. “Tell me you at least put on mascara.”

I didn’t answer.

“Oh my God, Kairi.” She tossed her head back with a groan. “I mean, I expected this. But still.”

I shrugged, keeping my eyes on the window. “It’s a bar, not a photoshoot.”

“You say that like we’re going to some dingy dive. The Moonlight Veil has an actual atmosphere—like, warm lighting, great music, insanely good drinks.”

“And you’re wearing heels?” I glanced down at her sleek black ankle boots with high block heels.

“With confidence and pure spite.”

I snorted.

She gave me a once-over, eyes narrowing. “You really couldn’t have picked something with, I don’t know, a little shape? Maybe some color?”

I tugged my sweater more snugly around me. “It’s comfortable.”

“You’re dressed like a girl who’s about to order tea and critique the wine list.”

“And yet, here I am. Going out.”

Stacy huffed, shaking her head, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Fine. But if some hot guy flirts with you, don’t expect me to bail you out when you look like you’re waiting for a cozy reading nook instead of a cocktail.”

I rolled my eyes, giving her a smirk. The Uber slowed to a stop, and Stacy was already stepping out.

I turned to the driver, gave a small smile and a “Thank you,” only to be returned with a small grunt of acknowledgement. The moment my boots hit the pavement, a slow warmth spread over my skin, sinking into my bones like the first sip of hot tea on a cold night.

It wasn’t just the warmth of the evening or the golden glow spilling from the bar’s windows. It was deeper than that. Settling. Steadying. Like I had stepped into something alive, and it made me hesitate slightly.

“You feel it, don’t you?”

The deep voice cut through the quiet hum of the street. A man stood near the entrance, arms crossed over his broad chest, storm-gray eyes locked onto me with quiet intensity.

Tall. Built like a brick wall. There was nothing aggressive about his posture, but something about him still felt… unmovable. Like a sentry standing at the edge of a world he wouldn’t let just anyone enter, the dim lighting catching the faintest trace of etched symbols along the cuff of his leather bracelet.

My fingers instinctively brushed my pendant. “Feel what?”

He didn’t answer. Not directly. Instead, he studied me for a moment longer, then smirked—like he knew something I didn’t.

Before I could push for an explanation, Stacy grabbed my arm. “Ignore Rowan. He loves his cryptic bullshit.”

I let her pull me forward, but I glanced back just as Rowan smirked.

“Welcome to The Moonlight Veil,” he murmured.

The second I stepped inside, the warmth didn’t fade. It settled, wrapping around me like an unseen current, mixing with the golden glow of lanterns reflecting off polished mahogany. The music was smooth, the hum of conversation easy. The space was lively but not overwhelming. The energy here was controlled. Safe.

And then my eyes landed on him.

A bartender, leaning casually against the counter, sleeves rolled up over strong forearms. His dark hair fell just past his ears, a few unruly strands framing mischievous green eyes. He was mid-conversation with another patron, laughing at something they said, but when he glanced toward the entrance, his gaze lingered—just for a second.

And then he smirked.

My breath caught—not because of the smirk itself, but because something about it, about him, made my fingers tighten around my sweater.

No—

Not my sweater.

My necklace.

I hadn’t even realized I had reached for it, tucked safely beneath the fabric. A small, silver pendant no bigger than a quarter. But my fingertips brushed the metal, cool despite the warmth that surrounded me.

I dropped my hand quickly, shaking the feeling off and followed Stacy, who beelined for the bar like she owned the place.

“Tristin!” she said brightly, placing a hand on my shoulder as we reached the counter. “Meet my best friend, Kairi.”

The bartender wiped his hands on a bar towel before leaning on the counter, his eyes flicking between us with easy amusement. “Nice to meet you, Kairi.”

“She’s a Moonlight Veil virgin, so be nice,” Stacy added before turning to me with a grin. “This guy is Tristin. The wizard of alcohol.”

I raised a brow. “Wizard?”

“It’s what I call him,” Stacy said with a dramatic wave of her hand. “He makes the best drinks in the city. It’s basically magic.”

Tristin let out a low chuckle. “I won’t deny that.” “Two house specials, please,” Stacy said, sliding onto a barstool.

“You got it.” Tristin moved behind the bar, effortlessly pouring deep amber liquid into two cocktail glasses. His hands were steady, practiced, the kind of smooth precision that only came with years of experience.

“Two house specials,” he announced, sliding the drinks toward us. His mischievous green eyes flicked to me. “First one’s on me, since it’s your Moonlight Veil debut.”

I raised a brow. “Are you always this generous?”

He smirked. “Only when I’m in a good mood.”

“Lucky me.”

Tristin’s lips twitched like he had a retort ready, but before he could speak, someone at the other end of the bar called his name. With a final glance at me, he stepped away, leaving me alone with Stacy.

That’s when she let out a tiny squeak, practically vibrating in her seat. I barely had time to lift my drink before she grabbed my wrist, her eyes practically glowing. “Okay. I have to tell you something before I explode.”

I blinked. “Should I be concerned?”

She didn’t answer—just grinned, lifted her left hand, and wiggled her fingers. The diamond ring caught the light, sparkling obnoxiously.

“I’M ENGAGED!”

The words hit me like a freight train, freezing me mid-sip. I choked slightly, forcing myself to swallow before setting my glass down.

Stacy beamed, practically bouncing in her seat. “Luka proposed last night! We’ve been talking about it for a while, but it’s official now!”

A rush of emotions tangled together in my chest—joy for her, surprise, and something heavier that I wasn’t ready to name.

I forced a smile. “Wow. That’s… wow.”

“I know!” Stacy practically squealed. “And obviously, I need my best friend by my side.” Her expression softened, sincerity cutting through the usual dramatic flair. “Kairi…you’re more than a best friend to me…you’re my sister. I can’t celebrate this without you, so…will you be my maid of honor?”

My fingers instinctively brushed the necklace beneath my sweater once more. The warmth of the bar was still there, but suddenly, it felt different. Heavier.

I exhaled slowly.

“I will.”

Stacy grinned, launching into wedding details before I could fully process what I had just agreed to.

“Okay, so I was thinking of an autumn theme—like deep reds and burnt oranges, maybe some gold? Oh! And candles everywhere, kind of romantic but still warm, you know? I don’t want it to be too over-the-top, just elegant but fun. Luka actually had some ideas too—can you believe that?”

Her voice softened into background noise, fading as my mind drifted.

The memories slid in effortlessly, unbidden, like flipping through the worn pages of a book I had promised myself I wouldn’t open again.

I could still see Nicholas’ face. The way his deep blue eyes had gone soft when he first saw me in my dress. How he had gone utterly still, barely even blinking as I walked down the aisle.

His lips had parted slightly—like he was trying to speak but had lost the ability to form words.

I remembered the way his hands shook when he finally took mine at the altar. How he laughed under his breath, like he couldn’t believe I was real.

"You’re staring," I whispered.

"You’re breathtaking," he whispered back.

The ache that pressed against my ribs now was sharp, unforgiving.

I curled my fingers around the stem of my glass, grounding myself, trying to focus on the now—

And then, like a record scratch, Stacy said the name that shattered my nostalgia like a dropped mirror.

“—and Vivienne, obviously, since she’s Luka’s best friend from college.”

I blinked, my grip tightening around my drink.

The warmth of the memory vanished.

“…What?”

Stacy hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Vivienne,” she repeated, watching me carefully. “She’s one of my bridesmaids.”

I plastered on a smile. The kind that felt stiff and unnatural. “Oh. Wow. That’s… great.”

Stacy sighed. “Look, I know you and Vivienne don’t exactly—”

“Like each other? At all?” I cut in, arching a brow.

She winced. “That’s putting it lightly.”

That was an understatement if I had ever heard one. Vivienne and I had barely tolerated each other from day one. She had this way of always making herself the center of attention, always subtly finding ways to turn things into a competition. She was exhausting.

And now? She was a bridesmaid.

I took a slow sip of my drink before setting it down. “Why her?”

Stacy sighed again, swirling her own drink absently. “She’s Luka’s best friend. And she’s dating his brother, who’s gonna be a groomsman, so it’s kinda… unavoidable.”

I exhaled through my nose. Fantastic.

“I know she’s… a lot,” Stacy continued carefully. “But can we just—try to make this work? For me?”

I let the silence stretch between us, then finally exhaled, shaking my head. “Fine. But if she starts some drama, I reserve the right to say I told you so.”

Stacy grinned. “Deal.”

She lifted her glass, and I followed suit.

“To the future Mrs. Sinclair,” I said smoothly, keeping my voice warm and genuine.

Our glasses clinked softly together. As I took a sip, my real toast echoed in my mind:

To not punching Vivienne in the face at this wedding.

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