I watched my coworker advance on the woman, ready to tear her apart.
"And YOU!"
"Homewrecker extraordinaire—acting like you've actually accomplished something!"
My coworker jabbed a finger at the designer necklace glittering around the girl's throat.
"Unless my eyes are deceiving me, that little trinket was bought with MY friend's money!"
She was seething now.
"Take it off and give it back to her!"
She lunged forward. The girl shrieked in terror, but Roger grabbed my coworker's wrist and hurled her aside. She crashed into a table, sending everything scattering across the floor. Then I heard him roar:
"Lorraine!"
"Is THIS how you were raised?!"
The girl cowered in Roger's arms, tears streaming down her face like rain on pear blossoms—the picture of wounded innocence.
"Roger and I are truly in love!" she sobbed.
"He stopped loving you ages ago!"
"Lorraine! He doesn't love you!"
My coworker was still sprawled on the ground, but that didn't stop her from screaming: "I'll beat you both to death—you shameless cheater and your pathetic side piece!"
She scrambled to her feet, ready to tear into them again. But suddenly... I felt nothing. No rage. No desperation. Just a hollow calm.