The room fell into a silence strong could swear I could hear the pounding of my own pulse.
The kiss still hung in the air like smoke.
I hadn't blinked. I hadn't moved. I had only watched, my entire body stiff, as my husband kissed another woman right in front of me.
The other woman's manicured hand curled possessively around Michael's neck. I wanted to look away, but I literally couldn't. Not when my heart was hammering against my ribs like it wanted to break free and collapse at my feet next to my hospital test results.
Michael finally pulled back. His face was absolutely unreadable.
"You must be the wife," the woman said smoothly, her lipstick smudged all over her mouth.
I fought hard to swallow the lump in my throat. "And you must be lost."
The woman gave a slow smile. "Hardly. Micheal invited me."
I looked at Micheal, waiting for him to correct her. To deny it. To say this was some misunderstanding, that the woman was delusional, that she'd broken in. Anything. But Micheal said nothing. He just stood there, perfectly composed, his eyes fixed on me with that same unreadable chill.
The silence stretched.
"Camilla, right?" She said breaking the silence. "I've heard so much about you."
At that moment, my head buzzed but I forced myself to remain upright.
"Looks like you have the advantage," I said quietly. "Because I have no idea who you are."
Her painted lips curved wider. "Oh, forgive me. Emily." She extended a manicured hand. "Michael's… friend."
Emily sat down gracefully on the arm of Michael's chair. Her fingers brushed against his shoulder casually.
Finally, I forced a smile. It trembled but I held it. "So, Emily. What is it you do? Besides..." I gestured vaguely at Michael. "... my husband, apparently."
Corinne sucked in a sharp breath. I'd honestly even forgotten she was still here.
Emily only tilted her head, studying me like I was a curious animal. "Interior design," she said breezily. "Michael's been helping me with a few things."
Michael chuckled under his breath. "Helping," he repeated.
Every word felt like targeted blows to my inside. They were obviously trying to get a rise out of me. But I I'd be damned if give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.
"That's wonderful," I said evenly. "You must be very talented. After all, you've already decorated my living room with your presence."
Emily's eyes sparkled. She enjoyed this- this verbal duel, this twisted theater.
Well, if that's the case, she's definitely come to the right place.
She took a step toward me, the click of her heels loud against the marble. "You should relax. Men like Micheal don't like clingy women. I'm sure you understand."
My palms started itching instantly . I wanted to slap her. Or maybe slap Micheal. Or maybe both.
Instead, I gave my sweetest smile. If there was one thing I'd mastered in marriage so far, it was the art of turning the tables.
"Oh, I understand perfectly," I said sweetly. "Clingy women don't last long. Neither do mistresses who overestimate the fact that the only thing they're good for is a midnight booty call." I gestured to the clock which showed a quarter past eleven pm. "And oh look... it's almost midnight."
Micheal's brow twitched, though whether it was amusement or irritation, I couldn't tell.
"Camilla." he said finally. "Enough."
I turned my gaze on him, eyes wide with mock innocence. "Enough? What exactly did I do, darling? Did I interrupt your affair?"
"Don't," he warned.
"Oh no," I whispered, shaking my head. "You don't get to tell me not to. Not after-"
My chest rose and fell but I stopped myself before my voice could crack. My dignity was hanging by a thread, and I sure as hell wouldn't cut it myself.
So I stayed silent.
Michael finally set his glass down, looking at me fully. "Camilla," he murmured. "You're being a poor hostess. Shouldn't you invite Emily to dinner?"
I swear one of these days I'm gonna smother him in his sleep.
But instead of expressing such a beautiful marriage sentiment, I took a deep breath and smiled again. "Of course. We wouldn't want your…um.... friend to go hungry."
"Well," he said with a mocking smile, "looks like we have a dinner guest then."
The woman's smile widened into a grin. She slid her hand down Michael's sleeve, curling into the crook of his elbow as if she'd been born there. "Dinner sounds divine," she purred.
Corinne bristled beside me. "Excuse me-"
Michael cut her off without even looking at her. "Corinne, you can leave."
"No. I want her here." I demanded.
He turned then, those once soft eyes meeting mine, now as cutting as a knife. "This is between us, Camilla. You don't need your sister running interference every time you stumble."
Corinne's grip on me tightened. "I'm not going anywhere. Not when she's-"
Michael's stare fixed to her face. "Get out!"
For a moment, I thought Corinne might fight him- might unleash the fury brewing on her tongue- but then her eyes found mine. And in them, I saw the silent question: Do you want me to stay?
I couldn't speak. My throat was raw, my lungs refusing to work.
So she pressed my hand instead, her warmth the only anchor I had left, and reluctantly stepped back toward the hallway. "I'll be close," she whispered to me before disappearing around the corner.
And just like that, I was alone. Alone with Michael. And her.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dinner was a theater of cruelty.
The dining table that once bore the warmth of family meals- late-night pasta when Michael couldn't sleep, champagne toasts after business victories, my careful floral centerpieces- was now an execution stage.
Emily sat beside him... of course she did.... her strong perfume curling through the air and making me sick. Every movement she made was designed to taunt- her hand brushing his sleeve, her laughter bubbling at things that weren't even funny, her lips curling in that smug way that dared me to react.
And I meanwhile, burned from the inside out, holding my wine glass so tightly my knuckles ached.
Michael said nothing. He let her laugh, let her touch him, let her steal air from the room that belonged to me. He was silent, but sometimes silence can be crueler than words.
This was one of those times.
I lifted my fork and forced myself to eat, even though all I could taste was the bile rising in my throat.
Emily's voice finally filled the silence. "You know, Michael told me you're very devoted." Her eyes flicked to me, amused. "I admire that. Not every woman could be so… understanding."
I wanted to show her just how much I understood all the martial arts training I'd been attending the past five years.
Instead, I said, "Michael what the hell is this? I'm just supposed to sit here while she-" I jabbed a finger at Emily, who watched silently with a small smile. "plays house in front of me?"
"You're supposed to accept it," he said coolly.
Emily reached over, brushing her fingers against his wrist and he didn't pull away.
My chest burned with a deep hatred I didn't even know I was capable of. But I steadied my voice and said. "You'll choke on that food before I ever accept this."
"You're making a scene."," he said, voice dangerously low.
I laughed again, a bitter sound that didn't feel like mine. "Oh, forgive me, dear husband. I didn't realize I was meant to applaud."
Emily tilted her head, her smile widening. "No need for applause. Just acceptance like he said."
"Say that again and watch me rip your eyes out of their sockets and make you eat them." I said looking her straight in the eye, voice low, "Go on. I dare you"
Michael stopped eating and looked at me through narrowed eyes. "Careful, Camilla," he murmured. "I don't tolerate empty threats."
"Good." I said eyes still trained on her. "Neither do I."
For a while, no one said a single word.
And then... Emily laughed. "Oh, I like her."
And I wanted to break her.
Instead, I looked at my husband and said, "Why exactly is she here, Micheal?"
Michael set his glass down. "Because I wanted her here,"
I slammed a palm on the table so hard I'm sure it'd have hurt if I'd actually noticed. "The fuck do you mean you wanted her here? Here?! In our home? Do you even hear yourself? I am your wi-"
"And that's where you're wrong, Camilla." He cut in. "You stopped being my wife the moment you betrayed me. As it stands right now, even the help have more rights in this house than you do."
I couldn't breathe well.
Then he resumed eating like it was nothing and added, "It would suit you well to know your place."
The room tilted. My vision blurred for a moment, but I blinked through it, gripping the edge of the table until my knuckles whitened.
My lips parted, a thousand words clawing to escape, but none formed. I felt my world splitting... Michael's cruelty slashing me open even as my secret diagnosis gnawed from within.
I almost blurted it out the words "I have cancer, you heartless bastard, I'm dying!" but the words refused to escape. I physically couldn't. Not like this. Not when he was looking at me as though I were already dead to him.
My hand shook as I reached for my wine glass. I needed something... anything... to hold on to. The stem slipped through my trembling fingers, shattering against the floor and wine bled like a wound across the polished wood.
"Oh dear," Emily crooned, bending down at the same time to pick up the shards. Her face hovered close, too close, lips curving into a smile sharp enough to cut.
And then, in a whisper that only I could hear, she said, "Took him long enough to level up. Better get used to it, darling. I'm here to stay."