The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Liam, her Liam, the boy who had promised her forever, was now looking at her with a mixture of guilt and something else, something she couldn't quite decipher.
"I... I don't know what to say," he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm sorry, Marianne. I just... I messed up."
His apology felt hollow, a feeble attempt to mend the cracks that had already begun to spread through the foundation of their relationship. Olivia, her face carefully neutral, stood silent, a silent observer of the unraveling of their carefully constructed world.
Marianne felt a surge of anger, hot and raw. It felt like a betrayal of the deepest kind, a violation of the trust she had placed in him. "You messed up?" she spat, her voice laced with bitterness. "You're standing here with her, Liam. You're holding her hand."
He flinched at her words, his gaze dropping to the ground. "It's not what it looks like," he pleaded, his voice desperate. "Olivia just needed someone to talk to."
Marianne scoffed. "She needed someone to talk to? Liam, you're my best friend, my boyfriend. You're supposed to be there for me, not her."
The words hung heavy in the air, each one a blow to Liam's fragile facade. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Olivia, who had been watching the scene with a detached expression, finally spoke.
"Liam," she said, her voice smooth and velvety. "Maybe you should give Marianne some space. It's clear she needs time to process this."
Her words were laced with a condescending sweetness that made Marianne's blood boil. This wasn't about giving her space. This was about covering up their betrayal, about silencing her pain.
"You're right, Olivia," Liam said, his voice a mere shadow of its usual confidence. "I'll give her some space. I'll see you later."
He turned and walked away, his shoulders slumped, his eyes downcast. Marianne stood there, watching him go, a wave of nausea washing over her.
The cracks in their foundation had widened, threatening to shatter everything they had built. The perfect picture was now a fractured mosaic, each shard a painful reminder of the betrayal that had ripped her world apart.