BETTY'S POV
A pleasant ache lingered in my muscles as I woke, the sheets still holding the ghost of Terry's warmth. I reached out instinctively, expecting the familiar press of his body, but the space beside me was cold. Panic clawed at my throat, constricting my breath. Had I imagined the whole night? No, the faint scent of his cologne lingered on the pillowcase, a cruel reminder.
He wasn't a prisoner. Terry could come and go as he pleased. Yet, a childish part of me craved a goodbye, a whispered confirmation in the darkness to quell the storm brewing inside. With a sigh, I untangled myself from the sheets, the silence of the room pressing down on me.
A quick glance out the window confirmed my worst fear. The first sliver of dawn was painting the sky a pale pink, and my father would be home any minute. There was no time to wallow. Every trace of Terry and the night's events had to disappear. In a whirlwind of activity, I erased evidence, remade the bed, and threw myself into preparing dinner for myself and Dad.
The weight of the missed morning shift settled heavily on my shoulders. The head maid wouldn't be pleased, and a night shift loomed – a necessary penance for my recklessness. Dinner prepared and served, I practically sprinted to the big house, hoping to avoid any unwanted questions.
The familiar clatter of pots and pans greeted me as I entered the kitchen. Gossip, the constant soundtrack of the maids' lives, filled the air. Whispers swirled about Tricia, but I forced myself to focus on my tasks. Tonight, work was my escape, a shield against the tangled mess of my personal life. We finished prepping dinner, a well-oiled machine of efficiency. The grand finale: setting the table. Flawless, elegant, a testament to our skill. For a brief moment, the storm inside me quieted, replaced by the quiet satisfaction of a job well done.
The silverware clattered, a rhythmic counterpoint to the low murmur of conversation wafting from the grand dining room. All the Aveeno family were seated except Tricia and Terry. The head maid approached me, her voice clipped.
"They haven't joined us yet," she said. "Would you mind finding them, dear?"
I nodded, my heart clenching in my chest. The search led me down echoing hallways, past plush living rooms, and finally, outside. Relief flooded me as I spotted Terry's silhouette on a garden bench, bathed in the soft glow of twilight. But the relief turned to ash in my mouth when I saw Tricia next to him, their heads bent close in conversation.
I froze, rooted to the spot. Their voices, hushed and serious, drifted on the evening breeze. A single phrase, sharp as a shard of glass, pierced through my heart. Tricia's voice, laced with a hint of vulnerability.
"Is there someone else in your life? Aside from family, of course. Another woman?"
A beat of silence followed, then Terry's answer, hesitant at first.
"No, no one," he said, his voice barely a murmur. "There's no woman in my life. And I'm happy... willing to get to know you better."
My breath hitched. Tricia. She was making a move on Terry. And he... he wasn't shutting her down. A flicker of something, a warmth, crossed his face as he spoke.
"I'll admit," Tricia said, her voice gaining confidence, "I have a huge crush on you."
And then, the final blow. Terry's reply, accompanied by a smile that sent a wave of nausea washing over me.
"I do too."
He reached out, his fingers intertwining with Tricia's. The sight sent a fresh wave of pain crashing over me. I stood there, invisible, the weight of their happiness a crushing burden.
Tears pricked at my eyes, blurring the scene before me. The urge to flee, to scream, threatened to overwhelm me. But duty, ever-present, held me rooted to the spot. I stumbled forward, My hand grazed a rose bush, the unexpected prick sending a jolt through me.
The sound, a choked gasp, ripped through the quiet evening. Both Tricia and Terry turned, their gazes landing on me, surprise flickering across their faces.
I fought back the tears, the humiliation, schooling my features into a mask of professionalism. My voice, when it came, was surprisingly steady.
"Dinner is set," I announced, the words hollow even to my own ears. "I was asked to inform you both."
A beat of silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, Tricia broke the tension with a forced smile.
"Alright, we'll be right there," she said, her voice dripping with a false cheerfulness that grated on my nerves.
"Come on, handsome," she purred, reaching for Terry's arm. The touch sent a fresh jolt of pain through me, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil churning inside.
Terry allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, his gaze lingering on me for a fraction of a second too long. It was a look that held a myriad of unspoken apologies and unanswered questions, a look that only deepened the confusion swirling within me.
As they disappeared into the house, the dam inside me finally broke. I sank onto the empty garden bench, the weight of heartbreak a physical burden. Tears streamed down my face, hot and unchecked. The laughter and chatter from the house seemed a world away, a cruel reminder of the happiness I craved, yet felt so far out of reach.
In the quiet of the garden, the scent of jasmine mingled with the sting of my tears. My mind replayed the scene over and over again, searching for clues, for answers that didn't seem to exist. Had it all been a lie? The stolen moments, the whispered promises, the searing passion we shared – was it all meaningless to him?
A flicker of movement caught my eye. Terry stood a few feet away, his back ramrod straight, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He seemed to be wrestling with himself, his indecision a stark contrast to the confident facade he'd presented to Tricia.
"Betty..." his voice cut through the quiet, laced with a desperation that mirrored my own.
"What?" I spat, the word laced with enough venom to wilt the roses climbing the nearby trellis.
He flinched at my words, his hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. "Betty, please," he stammered, his voice laced with desperation. "We need to talk."
"Talk about what?" I countered, my voice dripping with bitterness. "The other night?" I gestured toward the garden bench, a cruel invitation to sit.
He followed hesitantly, his shoulders slumped in defeat. You settled onto the bench, the space between you a physical manifestation of the emotional chasm that had opened.
"If you're here to apologize for..." I began, my voice trailing off. What was the point?
Taking a deep breath, I lied, the words a bitter pill on my tongue. "Look, Terry, if you want to talk about the other night, don't bother. It meant nothing to me. Breakup sex, that's all it was. Honestly, after that night, I never thought about it, or you, again."
His expression, a mixture of shock and dawning sadness, was a punch to the gut. I wanted to tear my lie out, but a stubborn pride kept it in place.
"I... I wasn't going to talk about that," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "But I never knew..."
He trailed off, his words failing him. I could almost see the hope flicker and die in his eyes.
"Never knew what?" I pressed, a cold satisfaction twisting in my gut.
"That the night was meaningless to you," he confessed, his voice raw with pain. "It meant so much to me. In fact, it made me make a decision..."
He paused again, his gaze flickering nervously towards the house.
"What decision?" I prompted, a spark of morbid curiosity flickering to life.
"I... I was going to run away with you," the words tumbled out, his voice laced with desperation.
I stared at him, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. Disbelief. A flicker of hope. And ultimately, crushing disappointment.
"Run away?" I finally managed, my voice barely a whisper.
"Yes," he said, his voice gaining a touch of fervor. "I love you, Betty. I always have. And that night..." He trailed off again, his eyes pleading.
"You love me?" I echoed, the words tasting like ashes in my mouth. "But you're marrying Tricia."
"I know," he said, hanging his head. "Believe me, I tried. I really did. But..." He trailed off again, the weight of his unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.
"But you have no choice," I finished for him, my voice laced with a bitter understanding.
"Something like that," he mumbled, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. I rose from the bench, the interview over. "Well, congratulations then," I said, my voice thick with emotion.
As I turned to walk away, a sob escaped my lips. This wasn't the ending I had envisioned, but at least I finally had my answer. It was a brutal truth, but the truth nonetheless.
He stood there, watching me leave, the weight of his unspoken words a heavy burden on his shoulders. We were both left alone in the garden, hearts shattered in the twilight.