It was useless. Nothing worked. But she still tried to force out something coherent.
“Sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling but controlled.“It’s just… my husband cheated. I just couldn't hold it in anymore.”
A lie.
An easy lie.
He was a stranger, and she didn’t want him thinking she was some unstable mess.
Though it wasn’t even fully untrue—her husband had cheated. Her tears simply belonged to something else entirely. The driver leaned back and nodded, like a man who’d seen this a hundred times.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” he said, his voice warm with simple human kindness.“If he cheated, he wasn’t worth you in the first place.”
She tried to smile, but it came out like a strangled breath.
He went on:
“You’re a beautiful woman. You’ll find happiness again, trust me. Women like you don’t end up alone.”
She closed her eyes.
His words—ordinary, shallow, not even touching the real depth of her hell—felt like a lifeline. Something to anchor her back to reality, even if just barely.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Maybe he was right.
Maybe happiness still existed somewhere ahead.
But right now it felt impossibly far away.
Like she was standing on the edge of a cliff and happiness was somewhere down below, hidden under dark, cold water.
***
On the way home she’d already cried out everything inside her.
Now there was only emptiness. And a dull, echoing ache.
She closed the door behind her and, still fully dressed, walked toward the mirror in the foyer.
Her reflection startled her. A tired, swollen face. Eyes red from tears.
She brushed her cheek with her fingertips as if she could wipe away the pain—but of course she couldn’t.
Nothing could wipe that away.
She sighed and headed toward the living room. And stopped dead.
Daphne sat curled up on the couch, crying. Her eyes were puffy, her nose red, her hair messy, her face pale.
“What on earth is going on?” Nina asked—her voice sharper than she intended. Pure shock.
Wasn’t Daphne supposed to be at college?
When had she even come into town?
Why hadn’t she called?
