The meeting ends.
The men leave, their minds already elsewhere. But she stays. That women. The one lingering around MY husband. That snake eyed bitch.
She doesn't move when the others leave. Instead, she leans even closer to him, her hand tracing his sleeve like a lover's touch, though her eyes never leave mine.
Her smile is slow, deliberate. A performance.
"You don't mind if I borrow him, do you? Not like you can handle him," she says, her laugh sweet and sharp, like honey with a slight tase of venom.
She takes his glass and lifts it to her lips, watching me over the rim. The red smear of her lipstick against the crystal feels like a challenge.
He still doesn't move her hand. Doesn't take the glass back. Just sits in that unnerving stillness of his, letting her play her game.
And it's working—because my blood is already boiling.
then finally he speaks.
"Leave"
"E-excuse me?" she stammers, hesitation creeping into her tone.
I said, "Leave."
Her lips press into a thin line, ready to argue, but the weight in his gaze stops her. Slowly, she rises, stepping back toward the door, eyes flicking over her shoulder. A cold look hits me. She mumbles something that sounds like "bitch" in my direction.
Finally.
Alone.
My hands shake, not from relief but from anger. I want to scream, to shake him, to make him feel a fraction of the rage and fear that just coursed through me.
"You—how could you just… let her? Do whatever she wanted?" I spit the words out, my chest heavy. "Do you even care what she's doing? That she—"
He steps closer, cutting off my frantic gesturing with a gentle touch brushing my arm. Calm. Gentle. Warm. "Hey,i'm sorry" he murmurs, and the words slow my racing heartbeat. "I care. Always."
My anger flares again, but the truth in his voice makes it impossible to keep screaming. I pull back slightly, eyes flashing. "Then why didn't you—why didn't you stop her?"
He kneels—or leans in, close enough that I feel the heat radiating from him. His hands cup my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks. "I didn't need to," he says softly, almost like a confession. "Because she's leaving, and I'm right here. With you."
I want to push him away, to stay angry, but the weight of his kindness, the gentleness I never thought I'd see after the chaos… it roots me in place.
"You have no idea what she's like," I whisper, voice cracking.
"I do," he says, brushing a stray hair from my forehead. "But I also know who I'm with. And that's you."
My knees nearly buckle. My anger melts into a mixture of relief, frustration, and something i can't really place. His hands linger on my face, steadying me, grounding me.
"You scared me," I admit finally, my voice barely more than a breath.
"I know," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against mine. "I'll promise to protect you. Always."
That promise is all i need.