As I stood in the foyer, the tension was palpable. My father-in-law, Harris emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel, concern etched on his face.
"Don't worry, Yasmine," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "Although Hailey had a relationship with Chris, things have changed. Now we all treat her as a daughter. Don't worry, she is very sensible."
I stared at him, my anger bubbling just beneath the surface. Sensible? Hailey, sensible? The woman who had thrown herself into Chris's arms the moment she saw him, calling him by his first name with a familiarity that made my skin crawl. Was this what they called sensible?
"I'm sorry, Yasmine, although the villa is very big, I'm not used to those cold guest rooms," Hailey said, her voice dripping with false innocence. She looked at me with a triumphant gleam in her eyes, continuing, "So I lived in your bedroom."
My heart stopped for a moment. Our bedroom. Our wedding room. The sacred space where Chris and I had shared our first night as husband and wife. The room filled with cherished memories and promises.