I thought of those humiliating nights. Crawling to her side of the bed. Mimicking techniques I'd found in online videos, desperate to arouse some response in her.
She'd lain there with her face flushed crimson, jaw clenched, forcing herself still.
I'd thought she was embarrassed. Overwhelmed by shyness.
She'd been gritting her teeth to stay faithful to her lover.
I stood outside that door, listening, and every word drove another shard of ice through my chest.
This wasn't just betrayal. This was cruelty with a blueprint.
Four years of whispered gossip in high society. Four years of pitying glances and veiled insults. I'd endured all of it with my teeth clenched shut.
My knees still bore the scars from kneeling on cold stone steps at that mountain shrine. Every time it rained, the old wounds ached.
I remembered draping the blessed charm I'd brought back around Vivienne's neck, reverent as a pilgrim.
And what had she been doing while I knelt and prayed?
Rolling around in bed with the boy we'd raised, lost in each other, laughing at how stupid I was. How pathetic.
Then she let her circle of friends look me over with those pitying, mocking eyes.