“When we get back, I’ll get you diamonds. Hawaii. A trip. Don’t worry.”
Like cheap consolation. Like a consolation prize for a life erased. Then he spun on his heel and left, vanishing without so much as a glance. As though I were nothing.
I remained, frozen, staring at the closed door as if it were a coffin sealing away the last fragments of hope.
The next morning, I moved through the motions of the kitchen. Omelets, bacon sizzling, toast browning. The smells sharp, almost mocking.
From the living room, the twins’ laughter cut through the walls, pure, loud, innocent—yet cruel.
“This cruise is the best one yet!” Antonio shouted. “We’re going to have the time of our lives!”
Their voices carried joy that felt like knives in my chest.
Vivienne appeared then, arms loaded with takeout, dumping the bags on the counter with a thud that made the cabinets rattle.
“I don’t like Bianca’s cooking,” she announced, voice sharp and loud enough for every ear. “It’s like biting cardboard, or swallowing salt straight from the shaker. Bland, over-salted, uninspired—just like her.”
The room froze for a second. Then she tossed her head back, eyes glinting with malice.