“Twenty-five years is enough. I want someone younger. I want you out of the apartment tomorrow.”
Victor said it with a champagne glass raised high and a smile on his face.
The restaurant ballroom froze.
Gold candles trembled on white tables.
Violins stopped mid-song.
For three seconds, no one breathed.
Every phone in the room was already recording.
He had planned it that way.
Victor looked straight at his wife across the long anniversary table.
Elise sat perfectly still in front of their untouched cake.
Twenty-five sugar roses. One for every year she had cooked, forgiven, and stayed quiet.
Behind Victor stood Lila.
Twenty-seven. Beautiful. Wrapped in a tight silver dress.
Her hand rested on the back of his chair like she already owned his life.
Someone in the crowd laughed nervously.
Victor enjoyed it.
“Don’t look so shocked, everyone,” he said into the microphone. “Elise knows this marriage has been dead for years.”
Elise didn’t move.
Her sister whispered, “Elise…”
She raised one hand gently.
Not now.
“She’ll be fine,” Victor continued, his voice louder now. “She has her little consulting hobby.”
Lila giggled.
A few guests looked away, embarrassed for Elise.
Others stared, hungry for the humiliation.
Victor’s own brother clapped once.
“About time,” he said.
That was when something inside Elise went still.
Not broken.
Still.
