She lowers her head in a brief moment of silence until a voice, smug and grotesquely familiar, slithers against my ear

“Hello, wife.”

There it is… the unease I’d been trying to ignore all evening wraps around my throat like a noose. I knew something wasn’t right about tonight. My blood runs cold. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

Vic’s eyes flicker in rage, and he grips the edge of the table so tight I think he might flip it.

He’s seconds away from either storming out or dragging Cory outside by his throat.

Under the table, I reach for his hand and gently squeeze it tight. “Vic,” I murmur, my voice soft but steady. “Not here. Not now.”

His nostrils flare, but when he looks at me, really looks at me, his expression softens, and his fingers trace my cheek like he’s silently asking if I’m okay.

I nod.

He exhales, nods back, and forces himself to stay seated, even though every muscle in his body is screaming for a fight.

“Sorry I’m late, baby.” Cory grins, leaning down to press a kiss to Krista’s temple like he’s some doting boyfriend. “I just needed to make a quick stop.”

Then, with a grand, over-the-top flourish, he hands her a bouquet of flowers.

Krista’s eyes widen, and for a moment, she almost looks surprised but forces a smile. “Oh wow, Cory. I didn’t know you were coming. These are beautiful. What’s the occasion?”

She’s just grateful for the bare minimum, but I know what the occasion is. This isn’t love. This isn’t romance. Those aren’t “just because” flowers. They’re apology flowers.

Cory slides into the booth beside Krista. His energy is loud and performative, but his dark, predatory gaze isn’t on her. I study her closely, watching as she grips the bouquet a little too tightly. She’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Her energy has dimmed, completely shut down.

“Krista?” Vic’s voice is softer now, cautious. “You good?”

She hesitates, just long enough for me to catch it, before she plasters on another one of those empty smiles. “Of course,” she says quickly, waving a dismissive hand. “I mean… why wouldn’t I be?”

I know that smile. I know that laugh. She’s sitting just a little too stiffly, and her shoulders tense every time Cory moves. I know that look in her eyes.

Because I wore it for years.

I study her as Cory has his eyes on me.

He doesn’t even try to be subtle, dragging his eyes over my face, down my body, like he has the right. Like he owns me. And then, he has the audacity to lick his lips.

Krista notices and subtly nudges her elbow into his side like a silent plea for him to behave.