My life went on in slow motion. The man I love was home and I was still a pixelated image on the Internet.
Liam insisted on a "proper" dinner to announce our wedding date. Not takeout. Just him, Dex, Dex's girlfriend Priya, and me around our tiny table.
He even lit the scented candles and made undercooked Pasta. It should have been perfect except I was waiting for the other damn shoe to drop....and it did.
Dex scrolled his phone, chuckling. "Man, have you seen this insane 'Sell the Virgin' crap blowing up? People are obsessed. Some girl apparently got millions."
I choked on the paste and started coughing, before taking a sip of wine to calm myself down.
Liam froze, fork halfway to his mouth. His expression hardened, a look I hadn't seen in my entire relationship with him appeared on his face. It was disgust. Pure, unadulterated disgust.
"Millions?" His voice was low. "For selling yourself like livestock?" He slammed his fork down, the clatter making me jump. "It's pathetic. Desperate. Trashy. People have no self-respect. No values, whatsoever."
Each word was a knife in my gut and a pounding in my head.
I stared at my plate, the creamy sauce suddenly looking like congealed fat. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might crack my ribs.
Dex shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, man, it's wild. But hey, desperate times, maybe—"
"Desperate?" Liam cut him off, his voice rising. He looked directly at me, his eyes burning with conviction. "There's no excuse. None. That's why I respect my Helene so much." He reached across the table, grabbing my cold, limp hand. His touch felt like branding iron. "She has real values. Self-respect. That's why we waited. She's still a virgin, you know"
He squeezed my hand, his gaze intense, loving, and utterly oblivious to the knife he was twisting in my soul. "She's pure. Not like those… those auction girls. She could never be them. It's why I love her so much, knowing no other man will ever be in side of her apart from me."
"Liam! That's vulgar!" Priya commented.
Dex and Priya looked awkwardly at their plates. Liam beamed at me with this proud protective look like I could never be that type of girl, selling herself for money.
I wanted to die. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me.
The smell of garlic and basil turned suffocating.
I couldn't breathe, it felt like the walls were closing in.
"I…" My voice was a strangled whisper. "Excuse me." I yanked my hand from his. Pushed my chair back so violently it screeched. "Bathroom. I'm feeling… sick."
I didn't wait for a response. I stumbled down the short hallway. Fumbled with the bathroom lock and slammed it shut behind me. I leaned back against it, sliding down to the cold tile floor.
The dam broke. Not silent tears this time but this sob that shook my entire body.
I was totally screwed.
I was that auction girl. The one he called pathetic and trashy. The one who sold herself like livestock. For the money his own family ended up paying anyway.
I pictured his face. The disgust when he talked about "those girls." That look hurt me.
Those girls was me.
"Babe, are you okay?" I heard his voice from outside the bathroom door.
"Fine. I will be right out!" I managed to force out.
I didn't leave the bathroom. I was too sick to.
But one thing was clear, I could never tell Liam about my night with Alexander.
*
The rest of the day, I walked around like a ghost. Afraid of my own reflection and what life would throw my way.
The wedding was tomorrow.
And so, tomorrow, I will walk down the aisle to the man I love in a pretty white dress and say my vows and become Mrs Liam Scott, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to throw up.
Later in the day, Liam burst into our tiny apartment, buzzing with pre-wedding energy.
"Babe! You will not believe this!" He dropped a bag of fancy takeout on the counter. "Cousin Clara – you remember her? The one obsessed with true crime podcasts? – she's gone full detective mode on that stupid 'Sell the Virgin' thing!"
"What?" I was sitting on the couch, supposedly relaxing, my fingers tracing patterns on my phone case.
"Yeah!" He laughed, shaking his head while grabbing plates. "She spend a shit load of money and started this whole TikTok series. 'Unmasking the Virgin Auctioneer' or some ridiculous title. She's dissecting every blurry screenshot, analyzing voice modulations from old gossip vids, cross-referencing flight manifests around the rumored time…" He rolled his eyes, but there's a fascinated disgust in it. "It's insane. People are eating it up, though. Thousands of comments, wild theories. Some poor girl out there is probably sweating bullets."
He set the plates down, coming over to kiss the top of my head. "Honestly, Hel, the whole thing just makes me sick. The desperation. The lack of self-worth." He pulled back, looking at me, his eyes warm, adoring. "Makes me even more grateful for you. For your strength. Your values. Knowing my girl would never sink to something so… tawdry. It's why waiting meant so much." He brushed a strand of hair from my face. "You're pure gold."
It's me. I'm her. I almost yelled out loud but when my mouth opened, no sound came out.
He frowned slightly. "You okay? You look pale."
Tell him. My brain screamed. Tell him NOW. Before Clara "unmasks" you on TikTok. Before he finds out from the world.
My lips parted again. "Liam, I…".
"What is it, love?" He crouched down, concerned, taking my cold hands in his warm ones. "Is this wedding jitters? It's totally normal."
"Lee... I need to..."
I looked into his eyes...into his loving trusting eyes and I lost my nerve.
"Helenie. You are scaring me, baby"
"Just… nerves," I whisper, forcing a tremulous smile. "Yeah. Jitters. It's… a lot."
He squeezed my hands, relief washing over his face. "Totally understandable. My beautiful, sensitive girl." He kissed my knuckles. "Come on, eat. You need your strength for tomorrow." He pulled me up gently, leading me to the food.
I picked at it as he talked more about Clara's ridiculous theories, laughing at the absurdity. Each laugh was a tiny knife.
i thought I was going to be tortured all night with talks about Clara and her witch hunt but Liam decided to leave. An "early night" for the groom he called it, he was staying at Dex's place.
He kissed me good night and left.
The silence after the door shut was deafening. Oppressive.
I couldn't breathe.
I went to the corner where my old acoustic guitar leaned on and picked it up.
I didn't think. I just played a minor chord it was mournful sound, it echoed from the part of me that was slowing dying. The part that was almost tired of hiding my secret.
Then I played another. My fingers found a melody and then the words came out. My broken, teary voice started singing from my place of pain.
The title was simple. 'Knife in every word'