107 The Invitation and a Familiar Sting
Damien’s eyes flicked to Cora, who was now bouncing on the edge of the bed. “Cora, go brush your teeth. It’s getting late.”
When Cora was out of carshot, Damien stepped into the room. “What brings you
here?”
The divorce wasn’t finalized yet, which meant that technically, Damien was still family. And Clara had specifically asked me to deliver the invitation personally.
“Clara specifically asked me to hand–deliver them,” I said stiffly. “Apparently, Eleanor has been asking about it.”
I straightened, maintaining my distance. “I need to give you something*
The sound of a car pulling up snapped me from my thoughts. Voices floated up from downstairs–Cora’s excited chatter, Damien’s deeper responses.
“And Cora? How much time do you spend with her when you’re so busy with work?”
“That sounds wonderful,” I interrupted, trying to keep my voice steady. “Did you finish your homework?”
“Julian values my work,” I said pointedly. “The company is growing faster than projected.”
We stood in tense silence, the familiar dance of unspoken resentments swirling between us. As I moved to leave, I caught a whiff of Vivienne’s signature perfume–the same scent I’d detected on Cora, but stronger, more concentrated.
The villa grew smaller in my rearview mirror as I drove away, leaving behind the invitations and the man who had never truly invited me into his heart.
“Something urgent came up.”
“Running away again?” he asked quietly.
“Providing isn’t the same as being present.”
Without waiting for his response, I walked out, each step more determined than the last. The scent of Vivienne’s perfume seemed to follow me, a taunting reminder of everything I’d never been to him.
“Sorry, I have an important meeting.”
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107 The Invitation and a Familiar Sting
I nodded, continuing upstairs. Our bedroom–his bedroom now–was immaculate as always. Nothing out of place. No sign that I’d ever lived here at all.
“I’m just dropping something off,” I explained, moving toward the stairs. “I won’t be long.”
Seven years, and nothing had changed. Not even now, when we were practically
strangers.
“Now, Cora.”
I placed the invitations on his nightstand, then paused. This room held so many memories. So many nights lying awake, wondering why I wasn’t enough.
“No one’s expecting you to come,” I replied coolly. “I’m just fulfilling Clara’s request.” For seven years, I’d accepted his rejections with a smile and attended alone, making excuses for his absence. But this year was different. This year, I wouldn’t pretend. Perfect. I could leave the invitations on his desk and be gone before they returned. “Elara,” Damien’s voice cut through our conversation. He stood in the doorway, expression guarded. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Mrs. Thorne,” Hannah, the housekeeper, greeted me with surprise when I entered. “We weren’t expecting you tonight.”
Of course she did. Vivienne, the fun one. Vivienne, who made promises she didn’t have to keep.
“Hi, sweetheart,” I said, hugging her tight. “How was your day?”
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, recalling how Damien had missed every single one of Clara’s birthday celebrations over the years.
107 The Invitation and a Familiar Sting-
“But Vivi said-”
Damien set the invitations aside, studying me with that calculating gaze I’d come to know so well. “You look tired.”
The invitation envelopes felt oddly heavy in my purse as I drove toward Damien’s villa. I hadn’t planned on returning tonight, but Clara’s birthday was significant. Her seventieth deserved proper recognition from all family members–even those connected only by marriage.
“Sure,” I promised, smoothing her hair. “Go get ready.”
He took them, glancing at the names. “You could have mailed these.”
Cora’s enthusiasm di
“Most of it. Vivi said I could finish the rest tomorrow.”
Clara’s response came quickly: “Their loss, not mine. Come by this weekend–I want to show you the finished guest house.”
“Amazing! Vivi took me shopping after school. She bought me three new dresses!” Cora twirled, showing off her outfit. “And then we went for ice cream, and Daddy met us there, and-”
She burst into the room, her face flushed with excitement. When she threw herself into my arms, I caught the distinct scent of Vivienne’s perfume clinging to her clothes.
I reached for the envelopes on the nightstand. “My grandmother’s seventieth birthday is next month. She asked me to deliver these invitations personally.”
Something twisted in my chest–not jealousy exactly, but a familiar stir of being forgotten, replaced. Seven years of marriage, and he couldn’t even bother to shower before coming home from her.
“The Beijing deal needs my attention.”
I stopped at the door, my back to him. “No, Damien. I’m not running away. I’m choosing not to stay where I’m not valued.”
There was something in his tone–disapproval? Judgment? I couldn’t tell, and I didn’t
care.
Always an excuse. Always work. Never a priority.
