I stared at him, numb. The same lips that had just kissed Claire were now issuing me instructions.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Good.” He brushed past me, the faint scent of expensive cologne trailing in his wake.
Later, when I slipped into bed beside him, I stared at the ceiling, wide awake. His arm draped over me like a chain.
The life I had once dreamed of was already dead. He just didn’t know it yet.
The next morning, sunlight slashed through the blinds—too bright, too ordinary, as if the world hadn’t shattered last night.
I sat at the vanity, staring at my reflection. My eyes were raw and swollen, my skin ghostly pale. Once, Matthew had sworn I was beautiful without makeup. Now I wondered if he had ever meant it—or if those words had been nothing more than lines rehearsed for convenience.
The thought made my throat constrict.
“Evelyn.” His voice carried from the doorway, smooth and commanding, as though nothing had happened. “We need to leave in half an hour. Claire’s expecting us.”
My grip on the brush faltered. Claire. The name pierced me like a blade.
“You want me to go with you?” I asked, forcing calm into my voice.