Matthew’s reply was careless, cold. “If she knew about us, she’d probably throw herself off a building. You know how dramatic she gets.”
The group roared with laughter.
Tears blurred my vision until the room swam. My knees buckled, and the envelope slipped from my fingers, landing on the carpet with a muffled thud.
Someone outside shifted. “What was that noise?”
My heart lurched. I shoved the envelope under a coat, pushed open the back door, and stumbled into the freezing night air.
The December wind cut through my thin dress. The city glittered in the distance, but my chest felt hollow, scraped raw.
I walked without direction, each step heavier than the last, until the banquet hall’s golden lights disappeared. Finally, I found myself on the pedestrian bridge over the river. The water churned black and restless, moonlight splintering on its surface.
My hands gripped the railing. The metal was icy under my palms.
One step, I thought. One step, and it would all be quiet. No more humiliation. No more aching silence when he came home late, smelling of someone else’s perfume. No more pretending not to notice how often Claire “just happened” to call during dinner.