Chapter Text
Since the day Tabitha's older brother escaped their father's grip, she'd been counting down the days until she could do the same.
It had been two years since her brother defected—730 days, to be exact. And today, finally was her turn.
Adopted by the Eaton family after birth, Tabitha had never known her mother, who died in childbirth. Her father had already defected from Abnegation by then, so Jasmine's best friend, Evelyn Eaton, took her in. It made sense—Evelyn was the closest thing her mother had to family.
But growing up as Marcus Eaton's daughter had been suffocating. Being the child of a leader came with pressure. Being the daughter of a monster came with scars.
Evelyn's death only made it worse. And after her brother left, the punishments intensified. With no one left to intervene, Tabitha became the focus of Marcus's rage.
But not anymore.
Today was the Choosing Ceremony.
"Tabitha Joelle!" Her father's voice boomed through the door. "I need to speak with you before I leave."
She'd tried to stay in bed long enough to avoid him. No such luck. She stayed silent.
"You have two minutes, or I'm coming in."
Tabitha groaned quietly and sat up, wincing at the soreness in her body. Today meant freedom. Her escape. She stood, pulled on a hoodie, and with a deep breath made her way walked downstairs.
The tension in the house was thick, her heart pounding in her chest. Her father stood in the kitchen, making coffee, his figure silhouetted by the morning light.
"Are you ready for today?" Marcus asked. His voice was low and even, as if today were routine and not the turning point of her life.
His back remained turned, but Tabitha felt the weight of his words—the expectations beneath them. "Yes," she replied.
"You never did tell me your aptitude results."
She sighed. "You know we're not supposed to talk about the test results," she said, her voice distant.
He turned then, eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her. "You'd better not embarrass me today. After what your brother did, Abnegation cannot afford another scandal."
The mention of her brother sent a pang through her chest, but she kept her expression neutral. She could still hear the whispers from the day he left—the disgust on Marcus's face as the news spread.
She bit back a retort and simply said, "I won't."
"Good. I expect you to behave." He turned back to his coffee, dismissing her as if she were an inconvenience.
She stood there for a beat longer, the urge to scream swelling in her chest. But she said nothing. Not anymore. He didn't own her.
Not today.
As she sat at her desk with a towel around her shoulders, her curls wild around her face, she paused.
What was she going to do with her hair?
The next few weeks would be intense and unpredictable. Caring for her curls was a process, and she wasn't sure she'd have time. The thought of not being able to care for this part of her identity added to the growing weight in her chest.
Her hands hovered over her hair before making a decision.
After dressing, she crept quietly to her father's study. He had already left to help prepare for the ceremony. The house was silent. Her footsteps were the only sound as she crossed the floor to the heavy door. She entered and made her way to the safe.
She typed in the code—a code she had memorized after watching him once, despite knowing that such knowledge was never meant for her.
The door of the safe swung open, revealing items that her father kept hidden away—things that Abnegation would deem "vanity," unnecessary indulgences.
But she wasn't here for anything luxurious.
Tabitha's eyes settled on the flat iron. She grabbed it, her pulse quickening as if she were committing some kind of crime. She closed the safe, making sure everything looked exactly as it had before, and slipped out of the study.
And with that she made her way back upstairs and got to work. It was awkward without a mirror, her hands carefully guiding the flat iron through her thick curls, taming them as best she could.
Shoes on. Hair done. She stepped into the gray Abnegation morning, the chill brushing against her skin as she made her way to the Choosing Ceremony. The streets were empty. Still.
Her nerves twisted. What should she choose?
Tabitha sat on the front steps of the ceremony hall, nerves twisting in her stomach.
"Tabitha?"
She turned. Caleb Prior stood there, his Abnegation robe hanging loosely, face pinched with nerves. That soft smile—familiar, gentle—made her chest tighten.
He had been an early bird, just like her.
Caleb and Tabitha always had a special bond. Despite him being her friend's older brother, they had formed a quiet connection over the years. Caleb was the person who always seemed to understand her, no matter how chaotic her world felt.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"I don't know," she admitted. "I know what's expected of me, but..."
"I've been thinking the same thing," Caleb said. "It's hard to imagine leaving. But harder to imagine staying."
She looked at him, surprised. Caleb—the reliable one, the golden Abnegation boy—uncertain?
Then he turned to her, something new in his eyes. He reached for her hand.
"Tell me to stay," he said, voice low. "Say it, and I will. We'll figure it out. Together."
Her heart caught. "Caleb, I—"
"Tell me, Tabby."
He was leaning closer now, his eyes locked on hers, searching for something, his words laced with a double meaning that made her heart ache.
Tabitha's throat tightened.
She looked down at their hands, her fingers tightening their grip on his. God, she loved him. She always had. He saw her. He knew the truth about Marcus. He never ran—never looked away.
But if she told him to stay, he would. He'd give up everything. For her.
"I can't," she said finally, her voice breaking. "You have to choose for you... not for me."
His expression crumpled just slightly, but he nodded. "You're right," he whispered, squeezing her hand once before letting go.
"Whatever you choose," she said, barely audible, "I hope it makes you happy."
Tabitha's heart cracked as he stood and walked away. Each step felt like a goodbye.
But then, just before disappearing into the gathering crowd, he turned back.
"The new hairstyle suits you, Tabby," he said, a soft smile breaking through.
She blinked, caught off guard, then instinctively touched her hair. Straight. Unfamiliar. But somehow—right.
Simple words but from him, they landed like a memory.
A small, broken smile tugged at her lips. "Thanks, Caleb," she whispered, unsure if he even heard.
And then he was gone.
Tabitha sat alone, the weight of choice pressing on her shoulders—but for the first time, it was hers to carry.