The moment Julian walked away, the room shifted. The officers dispersed, their voices fading into the background as Natalie's sobs quieted to delicate sniffles. I remained rooted in place, my hands still shaking with rage and the ghost-sensation of her throat beneath my fingers.
Through my tears, I watched as Natalie's performance continued. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue an officer had given her, her shoulders still trembling with fabricated grief.
When the last police officer moved out of earshot, Natalie rose from her chair with surprising steadiness for someone supposedly overcome with emotion. Like a predator sensing weakness, she zeroed in on Julian's retreating form and followed, her movements graceful and determined.
