“I’ll make it up to you,” he added, as if his words could erase everything that had already been done. “Don’t be so dramatic. Everything’s going to be alright. Now get in the car. Bianca’s tired from the trip. She needs to go home.”
I laughed—a loud, bitter sound that felt like it might rip me in half. There it was—the truth I’d known in my gut all along. I’d never get a divorce. Not from a man like him. Not unless I ran away.
But my visa wasn’t here yet, so I smiled faintly. Swallowed my pride. And slipped into the backseat of the car.
I would bear with it a little longer.
Bianca was beside Troy in the passenger seat, talking non-stop about their trip like it was some fairytale.
“We hiked the Matterhorn—it was freezing, but he carried me down the trail like a knight.” She went on, oblivious to everything else. “Then there was this sweet shop, and he bought the whole shelf because I couldn’t decide!”
“Troy even booked the entire rooftop of the Ritz for dinner. Candles and everything.”
I stared out the window, dead silent. Her giggles and his soft chuckles filled the space, but I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.