When the meal finally ended, I stood up immediately. I made it to the foyer before I heard footsteps running behind me.
“Karylle! Wait!” It was Danica.
“Karylle, please,” she panted. “You have to forgive me. I can’t stand you hating me. We used to be friends.”
“We were never friends, Danica,” I said coldly. “You were just my husband’s best friend’s sister.”
Her face hardened for a split second, the mask slipping, before she resumed her pleading look. She reached out to grab my arm.
“Don’t touch me,” I said, pulling away.
I turned to leave, but Danica suddenly stumbled back. She let out a sharp cry and fell to the floor, landing on her hip with a dramatic thud.
“Ouch!” she cried out.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Nathan appeared from the dining room, rushing over. He saw Danica on the floor and me standing over her.
“She pushed me!” Danica sobbed, clutching her ankle. “I just tried to apologize, and she shoved me!”
I stared at her in disbelief. It was so childish. So petty. And yet, so effective.
Nathan glared at me, his eyes blazing. “Are you serious, Karylle? You’re physically attacking her now? In my grandfather’s house?”