She sidled up next to me near the railing, “Why are you even here, Lauren?” she’d asked, twirling her glass lazily. “You’re always so out of place. You should’ve just stayed at home.”
I ignored her, but the words dug under my skin like glass splinters.
The yacht rocked gently beneath us. The party roared behind us — laughter, music, clinking glasses. Nadia leaned closer, her eyes glittering with something too dark to name. “Do us all a favor, sister. Leave. He doesn’t need you.”
I turned to shove past her and felt her hand on my arm. A single, deliberate push. My scream vanished under the splash as I hit the freezing black water.
“Oh no!” I heard her giggle. “She fell!”
I came up gasping, salt burning my eyes. I flailed in the darkness, each stroke more desperate than the last. I could see them above me — Nadia, giggling behind her hand, and Xander, my husband, glass in hand, head thrown back in laughter.
They didn’t move. They didn’t help. They watched me struggle as if I was an inconvenience, a stain on their perfect evening.
If it weren’t for the old fisherman who found me clinging to driftwood, I’d be at the bottom of that sea. But maybe that would’ve been kinder.