There was something practiced beneath it, as though she had thought through this moment before it ever arrived.
“Vincenzo and I... we’ve been together for over a decade.”
She paused, drawing in a slow, controlled breath, her gaze flickering toward him for the briefest moment before returning to me.
She continued softly, her voice steady but weighted with meaning.
“Ten years of knowing him... of having him in my life, of building something that didn’t happen overnight.”
Her fingers lifted slowly, almost delicately, coming to rest against her chest.
“He left me at the altar.”
The words were quiet, but they carried.
“In front of my family. In front of everyone.”
A faint tremor slipped into her voice.
“I was humiliated.”
Her breathing shifted, uneven now, as though the memory itself pressed too tightly against her.
“I fainted three times that day... from the shock... from the shame... from my heart—”
Her words broke off abruptly.
Her hand pressed harder against her chest, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of her dress as her breathing grew shallow.
“Violet—”
Vincenzo was already moving, his chair scraping back as he stood, the sound cutting through the room.
But she lifted a hand, weak and unsteady.
“I’m... fine,” she whispered, though the strain in her voice betrayed the claim. “Just... give me a moment...”
The words lingered, but the uneven rhythm of her breathing remained, hanging in the air like something that refused to settle.
I stood there, the empty tray still in my hands, watching it unfold.
Watching her struggle for breath.
Watching him watch her.
And felt nothing.
No sympathy.
No softness.
No instinct to step forward.
Only a quiet, hollow stillness where those things should have been.
“Violet,” he said, voice tighter now, “are you okay?”
Vincenzo leaned forward instantly.
