28
28
Claro
Camille
1 week later
When Javier mentioned he had something in mind to “occupy my mind,” the last thing I imagined was sitting through a dull afternoon with the wives of Mexico’s most influential men. It didn’t even cross my mind to question his decision, since he seemed determined to pull me out of my routine of tension and uncertainty — or maybe he was just trying to mold me into something he considered ideal.
The little I knew about afternoon teas came from stories Roberta loved to tell. According to her, they were lively gatherings filled with gossip, discussions about fashion, travel, and the latest extravagances. In reality, the atmosphere was completely different.
The women around me were in complete silence. Each seemed immersed in her own thoughts, yet not entirely disconnected. On the contrary, they exchanged glances filled with meaning — something between mockery and veiled curiosity. It was uncomfortable.
They each held teacups or champagne flutes with an almost rehearsed elegance, as if participating in a secret competition to see who could carry themselves best. They nibbled on delicate pastries that looked more like decorations than actual food. I, on the other hand, had no idea how to act.
My presence seemed to be the true topic of the gathering, even if no one dared to address it directly.
“So you're Javier Herrera's wife,” one of them finally said, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft but laced with an acidity that didn’t go unnoticed.
“I am,” I replied, trying to sound indifferent, though I could feel everyone’s eyes fixed on me.
“You look so young,” commented another, her champagne flute suspended mid-air. “I didn’t think Javier was the kind of man who went for…” She paused dramatically, as if choosing her words. “Someone so inexperienced.”
My jaw clenched for a moment, but I managed to keep my composure. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me lose control.
“Javier has surprising tastes,” I answered with a forced smile. “Maybe that’s why he never showed interest in something so… predictable.”
Silence once again filled the room, but this time it felt heavier. I could feel their intense gazes on me, and a corner of my mind wondered what Javier would think if he saw this. Did he really believe I could be like these women?
In that moment, I realized Javier hadn’t arranged this for me. He wasn’t trying to please or distract me — maybe he was trying to mold me into a role he thought I should play.
As the women resumed their low murmurings, I faked a smile and turned my attention to the cup in front of me. Every second there felt like an eternity.
To Javier, this was more than just an afternoon tea. It was an attempt to turn me into the kind of wife he believed he should have — someone who moved gracefully and effortlessly among high-society women, someone admired and envied. A model mother, perhaps.
But what he didn’t seem to understand — or maybe just refused to admit — was that I would never be like them. And deep down, that very thought was what gave me the strength to keep playing this role, even as it felt increasingly suffocating.
And everything got worse with Suzu’s arrival.
She showed up like the star of the event, a confident, wide smile on her face, designer shopping bags swinging on her arms. She looked even more radiant in that setting, as if she were the center of attention, and soon began greeting all the women with the ease of someone who was born to shine — as if she were already one of them.
“What a lovely surprise!” one of the women exclaimed, immediately standing to greet her.
“Is that the latest collection?”
“Why didn’t you invite us to go shopping?” asked another.
“Who’s your manicurist?” and yet another, all of them gathering around her.
The tone of their conversations was shallow, as if they were all in an endless competition to see who could be the most frivolous, the most flashy, the closest to their ideal of perfection.
Suzu, with her flawless charm and designer clothes, was exactly the kind of woman those people loved to fawn over.
And once again, I felt completely out of place in that setting — not just because I didn’t fit their standards, but because I didn’t even want to. Everything about it made me feel angry and disbelieving, and there was a growing, uncomfortable feeling of being the eternal second choice. It was clear they preferred Suzu for many reasons. She fit perfectly into the role everyone wanted me to play — but I wasn’t that, and I didn’t want to be.
I stood up abruptly, ignoring the eyes that followed me, and grabbed a champagne flute. Without thinking, I downed the drink in one go, looking for something to ease the growing frustration that was overtaking me. The taste of alcohol burned my throat, but I didn’t care.
It wasn’t enough to ease the anger, but at least it gave me a small sense of control over the situation.
I walked toward the exit, moving away from the circle of women and ignoring the laughter and conversations that followed behind me. Each step I took felt like it was pulling me farther away from that ridiculous scene, from those empty conversations and fake smiles.
I didn’t need to be part of it.
“Is something wrong, Mrs. Herrera?” Carmen asked when she saw me heading her way.
I exhaled sharply, feeling the frustration spreading through my whole body. I looked at her and, with a voice heavy with irritation, said:
“I just hate all of this. Especially those women.”
My response came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t regret it. The heat of anger still burned inside me, consuming me with every second spent in that environment.
Turning away from yet another attempt to fit into something I didn’t belong to, I headed for the garden, feeling the cold afternoon breeze on my face. It was the only place where I felt even slightly free — where I didn’t have to worry about being something I wasn’t. Where I didn’t have to pretend to be someone different, someone who wanted to be accepted by those women.
The world around me seemed to be a perfect simulation of a place I could never belong to, and there was no way to ignore it. I wasn’t like them — and I never wanted to be. Not now, not ever.