The party was finally over.
I was relieved, freed from the suffocating atmosphere of knowing gazes, pretentious smiles, and the constant pretense I had to maintain all night. I had played my part well, wearing the mask of a supportive and loving fiancée to Alexander, but beneath my composed exterior, a storm raged within me. Brielle's words echoed in my mind, her condescending tone and veiled jabs about my value to Alexander gnawing at my self-confidence.
Why did her words get to me? I had convinced myself that nothing she said mattered, yet the more I tried to shake it off, the heavier the weight of her degradation felt. My smile faltered at times, but I managed to keep up appearances as the last of the guests approached. Farewell pleasantries exchanged, shallow compliments passed back and forth. I was barely listening, my thoughts elsewhere. The truth was, I wasn't sure why I cared what Brielle thought, but the sting of her words lingered all the same.
As I stood speaking to a middle-aged couple, I felt his presence behind me, solid and unwavering. Without warning, Alexander's hand found the small of my back, his touch warm and grounding against my cold skin. I flinched slightly, not from discomfort, but from the surprise of it. My back had been exposed to the chilly air all night, and the warmth of his palm spread across my skin like a fire being lit.
I glanced up at him, our eyes locking for a moment. His expression was unreadable, but there was something there, something that made my breath hitch. I tried to pass him a reassuring smile, nodding slightly to let him know I was fine—whether for his sake or mine, I wasn't sure. The couple I had been speaking to noticed the gesture, their knowing smiles making me feel even more uncomfortable. They commented on how well we suited each other, their words dripping with assumptions about us as a couple. I gave a polite laugh, unsure of what else to do. I hope I didn't look stupid.
Finally, the goodbyes were done, and we left the main hall. The silence between us as we walked toward the limo was thick, but I welcomed it. I didn't have the energy to keep pretending anymore, not with everything swirling in my mind. When we reached the car, Alexander held the door for me, his hand briefly brushing mine as I climbed into the backseat.
The ride home felt agonizingly quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound breaking the stillness. I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur by, but I couldn't stop my thoughts from drifting back to the party, to Brielle, to Alexander. All night, I had caught him glancing at me, his eyes trailing over me when he thought I wasn't paying attention. Was it my imagination? Or was there something behind those stolen looks? I wanted to ask, but the words stuck in my throat.
Why would I even ask? I chastised myself silently. He was probably just checking on me, making sure I was playing my role correctly. That's all it was. Yet, the weight of the unspoken questions hung between us, and I couldn't take it any longer. My head was going to explode from all the confusion.
I broke the silence, my voice barely steady. "Do you want to know what I spoke to Brielle about?"
I wasn't sure why I asked. Maybe I wanted to see if he cared, even just a little. Maybe I was hoping for some kind of reassurance.
Alexander turned to look at me, his eyes sharp but calm. "Is the information important?" he asked, his voice neutral, detached.
I hesitated. Was it important? Brielle's words had affected me, but did they really matter in the grand scheme of things? Probably not. I swallowed hard, my feelings still a tangled mess. "No," I answered, though I wasn't sure if I was lying to him or to myself.
He simply nodded and turned away, as if my response was all he needed. The silence between us settled once again, heavier now, and I was left to stare out the window, feeling more alone than ever.