Tristan didn't notice the bitterness in my tone. He turned away, heading toward the bathroom, his movements quick and restless. I watched his reflection on the glass door, his face strained as he raised his phone to his ear.
"Did you tell Zara you've returned to the country?" His voice was low but sharp, each word cutting like a blade. "I'm already in a mess right now. Give me some time and I'll sort this out."
My chest tightened as I listened. So, he was planning to end this marriage. But for whom? The sharp sound of a scream from his phone broke my thoughts.
"I don't care! I'm coming over now!" the woman on the other end cried, her voice shrilled with desperation.
Tristan slammed his fist against the bathroom wall, the sound echoing through the room. He looked cornered, his vulnerability raw and exposed. For all his posturing, Tristan had always been fragile, breaking under the weight of his lies.
"What's going on?" I called out, feigning concern.
"Nothing," he replied quickly, his voice uneven. "Something fell."