Chapter 7
610words
He sniffed his sleeve, eyes darting everywhere but mine. "She—she hugged me goodbye. I didn't want to push her away..."
"Is that right?"
I smiled, though it never touched my eyes.
"You always have reasons, Terry. Always have excuses."
He stammered helplessly. "Eula, please believe me. It was just this once. It won't happen again."
I was done arguing.
I pulled an invitation from my drawer and handed it to him.
"My college friend's wedding is next Saturday. You're coming with me."
He owed me at least this.
In the past, he'd always taken Asha to his social events and weddings.
He claimed I was "too cold" and "not good at socializing."
He said Asha was "bubbly" and "helped him network."
I'd wait at home like a ghost, while he returned reeking of booze and another woman's perfume.
Now the tables had turned.
Terry glanced at the invitation and nodded quickly. "Of course I'll go."
On the wedding day, Terry woke early and laid out a dress and jewelry for me.
When I emerged ready, his eyes widened with genuine admiration.
"You look stunning," he said softly.
I gave him a thin smile.
At the venue, all eyes turned to us.
Terry was handsome and rich; I was elegant and beautiful. The perfect power couple.
My friends gushed about how lucky I was to have such a perfect fiancé.
Terry was the model partner all evening—intercepting drinks, peeling my shrimp, attending to my every need.
If I didn't know better, I might have believed his performance.
Halfway through dinner, I excused myself to the restroom.
As I approached the hallway corner, I overheard women's voices in hushed tones.
"So that's Eula Silver? Terry Grant's fiancée? She's nothing special."
"Right? I heard Terry used to parade her sister Asha around everywhere."
"I heard she blackmailed the Grants into shipping her sister overseas just to keep her claws in Terry. Cold-blooded bitch."
"Rich people drama is so twisted..."
Their words stabbed like tiny needles.
I gripped my clutch so hard my nails cut into my palm.
Just then, the bathroom door swung open and Cecilla emerged.
She spotted me, heard the gossip, and her face darkened instantly.
She marched up to the women. "Is talking shit behind people's backs your family tradition?"
The women jumped, recognized Cecilla, and slunk away with mumbled apologies.
"Ignore those bitches," Cecilla squeezed my arm.
I shook my head. "I'm fine."
Back in the hall, I spotted Terry laughing with another man.
I recognized him—Terry's childhood friend who'd always made his disdain for me clear.
When he saw me, he jumped up with a broad smile. "Eula! Join us! Terry was just singing your praises!"
I ignored him completely. "I'm not feeling well. I want to go home."
Terry was instantly concerned. "What's wrong? Should we go to the hospital?"
"No need. I'm just tired."
Without hesitation, he made our excuses, grabbed my coat, and led me out.
The drive home was silent.
As we neared our building, Terry spoke suddenly. "I'm sorry, Eula."
I glanced at him.
"I've hurt you," his knuckles went white on the steering wheel. "My friends... they're assholes. Don't listen to them."
I forced a small smile.
"It's fine. I'm used to it by now."
At my words, the color drained from his face. His hands shook so badly the car swerved.
He slammed the brakes and pulled over.
Silence filled the car.
After what felt like forever, he turned to me, eyes red-rimmed and desperate.
"What will it take for you to believe me? Do I need to cut out my heart and show it to you?"
