21.

The room felt unbearably cold despite the warm sunlight streaming in through the tall windows. My chest tightened as I watched Daniel and Evelyn exchange quiet words, their voices low but filled with a familiarity that cut deeper than any knife.

Evelyn's laughter echoed lightly, the sound so casual and comfortable that it stung more than I wanted to admit. She wasn't just here—she was comfortable here. In my home. In his home. And Daniel...he wasn’t even trying to distance himself.

Cecily placed a hand on my arm, grounding me for a moment. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her fury barely contained. I knew she wanted to say something, to defend me, but I shook my head almost imperceptibly. Speaking now would only give Evelyn the satisfaction of seeing me crumble.

But I already was.

I turned away from the scene, pretending to busy myself with the table, rearranging plates and wiping non-existent crumbs. My hands trembled as I worked, the faint clatter of porcelain betraying my efforts to appear unaffected.

“Vera,” Cecily said quietly, her voice filled with concern.

I shook my head again, this time more firmly. “Not now,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Evelyn approach the table, her predatory gaze sweeping over the remnants of our lunch. “What’s this? A little party? How quaint,” she said with a smirk, her tone dripping with condescension.

Cecily bristled beside me, but I caught her hand before she could retaliate. “Leave it,” I murmured, though the effort of holding myself together was exhausting.

Daniel, ever the picture of indifference, finally turned to us. His gaze briefly landed on me, and for a moment, I thought I saw something—guilt? Regret? No. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his usual cold detachment.

“Evelyn,” he said sharply, “we’ll talk in my office.”

Evelyn gave me one last triumphant look before following him out of the room, her heels clicking against the marble floor like a death knell. The sound echoed in my head long after they disappeared.

The silence that followed was suffocating. I sank into one of the chairs, my hands gripping the edge of the table as if it were the only thing keeping me upright.

Cecily crouched beside me, her hand gently covering mine. “Vera, you can’t keep letting him do this to you,” she said softly. “This isn’t fair. You deserve so much better.”

Her words were kind, but they felt like salt in an open wound. “What choice do I have, Cecily?” I whispered, my voice breaking. “This is my life now. This... emptiness.”

She frowned, her anger flaring again. “No, it’s not. It doesn’t have to be. You can—”

“I can what?” I snapped, my composure cracking. “Leave? Walk away from this sham of a marriage? Where would I go? What would I do?”

Cecily recoiled slightly at my outburst, but her expression softened almost immediately. She sat on the floor beside me, leaning her head against my knee. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” she said quietly. “But you can’t keep living like this, Vera. You’re disappearing.”

I closed my eyes, her words striking a chord I didn’t want to acknowledge. She was right. I was disappearing, fading into the background of my own life, swallowed by the cold, unyielding shadow of Daniel’s world.

A single tear slipped down my cheek, and I wiped it away quickly, refusing to let more follow. “I just... I wanted to feel like I mattered today,” I admitted, my voice barely audible. “Just for a little while.”

“You do matter,” Cecily said fiercely, gripping my hand. “To me, to so many people. Don’t let him take that away from you.”

Her words were meant to comfort me, but they only highlighted how far I’d fallen. The truth was, I didn’t feel like I mattered—not to Daniel, not to Evelyn, not even to myself.

As I sat there, the sound of their muffled voices drifting down the hall, I realized something. The fight had left me. The defiance I’d felt earlier, the small triumph of hosting this party—it was gone. Evelyn had taken that from me without even trying, and Daniel had let her.

I stood abruptly, startling Cecily. “I need some air,” I muttered, heading for the garden without waiting for her response.

The crisp winter air bit at my skin as I stepped outside, but I welcomed the sting. It was better than the numbness I felt inside.

I walked aimlessly through the garden, the barren trees and frost-covered ground mirroring the emptiness in my heart. How had I ended up here, trapped in a life that wasn’t mine, married to a man who barely acknowledged my existence?

A sudden wave of anger surged through me, hot and wild, but it fizzled out just as quickly, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.

I sank onto a stone bench, my breath visible in the cold air, and buried my face in my hands.

For a long time, I sat there, trying to piece together the fragments of my shattered self. But no matter how hard I tried, the pieces refused to fit. And I realized that as long as I stayed here, in this mansion, in this marriage, surrounded by Daniel’s cold perfection, I would never be whole again.

After a while I walk back in to the house and just wanders lazily in the hall, Cecily already left me few minutes ago and that was better than seeing crumbling under everything.