SEBASTIEN

“Oh, Jacqueline, darling. You look great.”

The woman’s voice gets lost in the background noise as I tune out her dialogue with my wife and run my gaze over the guests.

All our friends are here. Except, um... Stephan.

Discreetly, I check the time.

“The cake is delicious,” says another woman.

Their words fly by, barely registering with me. I make an effort to smile to the people, but all I feel inside is ice.

Everything looks perfect at a glance. The evening. The table. The guests. Jaqueline’s dress and lips and face.

Once in a while, she glances at me. I meet her gaze with a bright smile. People sit around the table, glasses of champagne in their hands, laugher rolling from their lips.

As the atmosphere relaxes, I retreat into my office.

I peel my jacket off and remove my bow tie, my eyes going briefly to my watch before I fish my phone out of my pocket.

Swiftly, I slide my finger onto the screen and pull up a live feed. The image of Tess’ room fills the frame. I spot her in the kitchen, her back turned to me, her gaze tipped down as if she checks something on her phone.

She’s dressed as if she is about to go out. Dark pants, a blouse, and high heels. She shifts her position, but not enough to let me see her face. I wish I could get a glimpse of her but even without it, her body gives me all the clues I need.

Her shoulders are slumped, her back a little hunched.

Something bothers her. Or slowly breaks her.

She must have seen us.

I only have the chance to undo a couple of buttons at my neckline while staring at the screen when the door opens behind me.

Perfectly aware that Jacqueline just entered the room I keep my eyes on the phone a moment longer before I slide my thumb across the screen, power off the cell and toss it on the desk.

“How do you like it so far?” I ask with a clear, resonating voice as I turn around.

Jacqueline looks at me bewildered.

“Were you waiting for me?” she asks pleasantly surprised.

I was, in fact, but I don’t bother to answer. I only give her a smile and a chunk of silence.

She continues.

“I love it. It was a nice surprise. I didn’t expect a birthday party to be honest.”

Moving lasciviously, she closes the gap between us.

I slide my hands into my pockets, my chest thrusting out. She moves her gaze down on me, swiftly taking in my body.

She’ll always be a liar.

“How about you? Did you have a good time?”

She clasps a hand on her hip while gesturing to the dining room, her lips curled into a sizzling smile.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?” I mutter, my eyes holding hers.

Her smile freezes for a moment as she studies my expression. There’s nothing there to clue her in.

I don’t think so.

A small smile curls her lips as she starts to speak again.

“Sandra and her husband join me for brunch on Sunday. Would you like to come?”

“Sure.”

My prompt response takes her by surprise.

Without breaking my stare, I keep smiling, shattering her suspicion.

Her eyes rove down again.

“You look good,” she says.

“You too,” I toss back at her.

She takes a small step forward and brings her hand to my neckline. Running her fingers over my collar, she pretends that she fixes it while touching my skin.

“Do you think...?” she begins as she slowly drags her fingers up my neck, and then trails my jawline.

“Do you think that we can be together again?” she asks with a smooth, sultry voice.

Her grin makes her eyes sparkle, glazing them with hope.

I bring my hand to her face, brush her hair over her shoulder and lower my lips to her ear. My free arm goes around her waist as I murmur.

“Um, sure... But not tonight.”

A couple of moments tick by before I straighten, her hands sliding to my chest

“I need a little time,” I say, smiling. “I’m sure you do too.”

My words prompt a different expression on her face.

“Oh.. Yeah. Sure. I wasn’t talking about tonight,” she mutters.

I lean to her again.

“Good. Now let’s go back to our guests.”

I keep her in my arms for a moment longer before I take her hand and walk her out of the room.

Soft light pours from the chandeliers, rolling over us as we enter the dining room when the sound of a woman’s voice drifts through the air.

Haunting and broken like the cry of a wounded bird.

“I need to see him!”

Jacqueline’s gaze tips to the stairs and so does mine.

The voice is loud but not distinguishable enough to catch the guests’ attention.

I take a few steps toward the stairs as our butler starts reasoning with the woman in the foyer to no avail.

Jacqueline follows me closely.

“I can’t believe she’s here,” she mutters, outraged.

I lift my hand.

“I’ll handle this,” I say as I head down the stairs.

She stops at the top of the stairwell.

Tess’ eyes shift to me the moment I enter her line of sight. Desperation rolls on her face, her skin pale like the curtains.

“Sir, the lady says––”

“It’s okay. You can go now,” I say, dismissing him.

With a soft nod, the butler moves away while I grab her by the elbow and nudge her to the door. She turns to me in the doorway, her eyes simmering with anger.

“What is this, Sebastien?” she barks, her hands hitting my chest hard, her voice crying out sheer desperation. “How can you do this to me? How can you?? You were dancing with her and kissing her. I saw you only moments ago.”

Her fists sink into my chest as her glare torpedoes through me.

I make no effort to stop her. I only look at her, offering her a stale gaze and an emotionless expression that stirs her up even more.

“What is wrong with you?” she snarls as she keeps hitting me, wrestling with disbelief.

The world I built inside her starts to collapse, going down in flames.

Tears fall from her eyes unable to stop that fire.

“I trusted you, Sebastien. I. Trusted. You,” she shouts, her finger poking at my chest.

Her voice bounces against the walls, drifting through the house. The music stops on the second floor, and I bet an entire audience has piled up at the top of the stairs by now.

More tears run down her cheeks.

“What kind of man does that?”

Her voice breaks as she quietly starts to sob.

“You lied to me. How could you say all those things to me and then turn around and do this?” she barks, pointing at the soiree. “You didn’t even have the decency to tell me that you were getting back with her?”

Her voice breaks again while her hands hit my chest repeatedly. I take her fury head on, without a blink or a flinch or the flashing of an emotion.

Her crying and her torment don’t move a muscle on my face, and she eventually gets the message.

Face tipped down, fists still jabbing at my chest, she sobs in front of me and so many other people.

I grab her by the shoulder this time and nudge her out the door, taking a step with her. I drag the door behind me to hide us from the people’s eyes, and I take her hand in mine as she’s about to leave. I gently squeeze it to make her raise her teary eyes to me.

“Watch out when you cross the street,” I say with my normal voice, the one she knows from me.

Her eyebrows go up, her eyes widening, bewildered.

Her mouth falls open too.

She doesn’t understand.

She doesn’t need too.

“Go,” I say, her eyes still connected with mine, looking for answers.

There are no answers. Not right now, anyway.

Her sobs die out, her tears drying off too.

Reluctantly, she disconnects her hand from mine and takes a few steps backward.

She searches my eyes and studies my face one last time before she pulls away from me.

Glancing over her shoulder a few times, she crosses the street. She gives me one last look in front of the entrance to her building.

Tipping my chin down, I give her a soft nod.

I wait.

She lifts her hand and waves at me. She doesn’t want to––I can tell. She does it, nonetheless.

I nod again and smile.

“Is everything okay?”

Jacqueline’s voice echoes behind me as she slides the door open.

I spin around.

Smiling.

“Yes. Everything is fine. I think she finally got the message,” I say deadpan as I lift my eyes and register all the guests clustered at the top of the stairs, watching us.

* * *

TESS

My eyes sting, and my chest hurts as I make the trip back and enter my building.

Mechanically, I find my way to my apartment.

Confused, I shift the key into the lock and push the door open. The lights are low. My place is quiet.

Quiet like my mind.

I can’t make sense of anything. Frazzled and disconnected, I shed my clothes and walk into the bathroom.

The shower stream clears my face of tears but doesn’t wash away the dread I grapple with.

All I want is to make sense of things.

How can someone–– anyone, let me feel the way I did for him, and then pull away from me as if I meant nothing to him?

Slowly, I wrap a plush robe over my pajamas. No softness in the world can mitigate the pain I feel.

It takes me a few minutes to make myself a cup of tea. As I pour the boiling water into the mug, I check the time on my phone.

It’s late. Too late to call and wake up Anna or mess with Viola’s life. And how could they help me really? How could anyone explain what happened tonight?

I was close to him–– or at least I thought I was, and I wasn’t able to see him for who he was.

How could I tell my mom what happened between us when she couldn’t make sense of her own life with dad.

A sad smile slides across my lips.

I know what she’d say to me.

‘Men, my dear, know only one love. Their love for themselves.’

Her words still echo in my ears as I bring the cup of tea to my lips.

Viola, on the other hand, would say something like ‘I told you so’, and I wouldn’t be able to argue with her.

Anna would probably cry with me, but she wouldn’t be able to make sense of this any more than I do right now. Her relationship is based on trust and transparency, and Danny is a man who doesn’t waste her time with words that have a double meaning or statements that he easily takes back later on.

She’d look at me spooked when I’d tell her the story, and she’d feel sorry for me, but she wouldn’t be able to understand the world in which Sebastien had pulled me in.

If I were to speak to a wiser me, I’d have to keep my head down and listen to a harsh scolding.

I gather my knees together and hug myself, my eyes slanting to his windows where the party seems to have no end.

That was not wise.

I knew he was married. I knew who she was. Deep down inside, I must’ve known that this day would come.

It always does.

I fell so easily–– I muse, a sad chuckle falling from my lips.

The thought stays with me for a while before it fades away while my eyes remain glued to the brightly-lit windows, taking in the glamour of the people celebrating Jacqueline Monroe inside his home.

Glasses of champagne are being raised in the air while the music plays and the couples spin.

For a split second, I think I spot them again. She leaning against his body, his arm draped around her waist.

“I have to move out of this place...” I mutter as I bring the mug of tea to my lips again.

My drink is cold, the mint aroma fading. I set the cup on the window sill and pick up my laptop.

I slide it open and for a moment, I stare blankly at the screen, gathering my thoughts.

For once, I don’t want to remove from my computer anything that has to do with him. I don’t feel the need to wipe away his presence.

He is no longer with me.

That makes things simpler. Easier.

I no longer look at his images with the burning passion that has tormented me for so long.

All that is gone.

Now I look at the things that remind me of him with the sadness and emptiness of someone who takes inventory of the belongings of a person who’s long gone.

Painstakingly, I gather all his pictures in one folder. I plug my phone to my laptop and transfer the snapshots that I took with my cell, including the ones that prompted my meltdown in his house this evening.

Without the slightest emotion, I take them in, studying them as if I see them for the first time. I see the tenderness in his touch as he embraces his wife. His lips touching her hair the way they used to touch mine.

A pang of fury spins in me for a moment before the voice of reason sends the thought away.

It’s over.

It no longer matters.

I save those pictures in the same folder and start to sift through old snapshots. A thought coming from nowhere prompts me to click on a clip he sent me a while back. A video recording I’ve always attributed to him... And her.

Although he’s never confirmed it.

A knife spins in me a little as I press play and look at it with different eyes. The mask she wears no longer does anything for me. I can see her behind that patch of fabric. I can sense her hunger as she parts her lips and tips her face up waiting for the man standing in front of her to bring his fingers to her mouth.

She smiles at him while he moves closer to her, naked, his back turned to the camera.

I can’t believe I’m watching this again.

The angle changes, more of her face filling the frame. A beautiful woman with a black heart like her hair.

I was never a competition for her.

I only had the power that he gave me, but now he took it away from me and let her run the show.

My eyes stall on her image a little longer.

She made him jealous and brought him back to her.

And yet... What is he to her?

What makes him different than her lover? Or even Allan?

As I look at her I realize that nothing is in fact different. I see the same lascivious moves whether she uses them to seduce Stephan Leon or employs them to lure him.

“They’re all the same to her...” I murmur, my mind drilling deep into that picture, looking for more answers. “She doesn’t care for any of them. She cares only for herself.”

But who am I to tell...? What right do I have to judge her?

The man and the woman in the clip get closer to each other, making me shudder.

I flip the laptop closed, my eyes swinging to the window. The lights shine brightly across the street, the cheers mixed with music drifting through the air.

She must’ve lied to him too.

I huff with frustration.

Why do I give a damn?

Because it’s not fair. But fairness, as I learned early on, has nothing to do with life.

I flip the laptop open again. The clip starts playing, Jacqueline’s face front and center–– her gaze tipped up, her lips wrapped around his fingers.

Bile fills my mouth. I pause the clip and look at the pictures I took tonight. His arms curled around her. Her eyes cradling that annoying smile.

“The man who loves the truth...” I mutter, my eyes rooted to him.

He was so keen to shed light on my life. So vested in helping me to find my freedom. And then he dropped me because he decided to go back to his old life.

“Perhaps now is as good a time as any to return his favor.”