Page 39 of Iridescent
"Lucien," Xavier snaps, his tone a lethal warning. I barely recognize the harshness in his voice. His eyes flick to me, wide with panic now. "Tais-toi."Shut up.
Alejandro clears his throat loudly and reaches over to grip his wife’s shoulder. “Ya basta. Enough, everyone.” His cheeks have gone ruddy.
The plate in front of me blurs, the colors of the meal bleeding together.
I’m shaking. My hands are clenched in my lap so hard my nails bite into my palms.
A small, sane voice whispers that all these staring faces can see myhumiliation, that I should hold it together. But it’s drowned out by the roar of blood, hurt, and betrayal in my ears.
“Enough?”
My voice trembles. The word escapes so softly it’s almost lost in the vast dining hall. I don’t even know who I’m addressing.
I press my napkin to my mouth, a strangled sound rising in my throat.
It starts as a giggle. Thin, high, and entirely out of place.
Someone down the table gasps. I hear Élise whisper my name, unsure. Concerned.
But I can’t stop.
The sound grows, warping into something bitter. It bursts out of me before I can contain it.
I'm dimly aware of all the horrified eyes fixed on me as I double over, a peal of laughter ripping out of my chest that sounds wild even to me. My hand slaps the table and I clutch the edge of it to keep myself upright as wave after wave of hysteria pours out. Crystal glasses tremble with the vibration, cutleries clatter against plates.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes from the force of it. I laugh until my ribs ache, until the sound that was almost merry turns ragged and teeters on the verge of sobbing.
Gradually, the laughter ebbs, choking off into silence. I'm left panting. My shoulders shake as I inhale, trying to steady myself. I wipe under my eye with my thumb, careful not to smudge whatever remains of my dignity along with my mascara. When I lift my head, I find everyone frozen in place, staring at me as if I've lost my mind.
Perhaps I have.
I straighten with ease, smoothing my napkin with trembling fingers and then laying it neatly beside my untouched plate. A stray chuckle still bubbles in my chest, but I swallow it down and force a pleasant, serene smile onto my face.
“Well,” I fold my hands together, “what a delightful dinner conversation. The things one learns at supper, mm?”
My voice is almost conversational, but it carries a razor edge that slicesthrough the air.
No one speaks.
I push back my chair, the wooden legs screeching against the marble floor. I rise and reach for my beaded clutch beside my plate. My movements are calm, though my hands tremble with adrenaline.
Xavier lurches to his feet, face ashen, eyes wide with alarm. “Yara,” he says urgently. “Yara, wait—”
I hold up a hand. The gesture stops him in his tracks. Our eyes lock through the glow of candlelight. I see my husband—the man I have loved for years—standing there with desperation written all over his face. And I see the truth in the sag of his shoulders and the guilt swimming in his eyes.
All these weeks. The late meetings. The distant stares. The tension I could never name.
I thought he was afraid of losing a big project. Busy with something at work. Afraid of losing me.
But I was wrong.
He was afraid of being found out.
A strange calm washes over me. My tears have dried. My heart feels cold and hard in my chest. I fix Xavier with a steady, gentle look and curl my lips into a bitter facsimile of a smile.
“Don’t stop on my account,” My voice cuts through the hush with icy clarity. I nod toward Isabel, who sits as still as a statue, her eyes shiny with unshed tears and fixed on the tablecloth. “Your cousin looks positively famished.”
Xavier reels back as if I’d slapped him. His tan complexion blanches. Isabel’s face crumples, a single tear spilling down her cheek at the wordcousin. I almost start laughing again.
