Chapter 2: Broken Glass

Nina stood between me and Michael like a referee at a boxing match nobody wanted to fight.

She looked back and forth, totally at a loss. Her hands fluttered, smoothing her designer dress, all that Ivy League drama training failing her for once.

If I hadn’t died and seen her literally kick my tombstone, screaming, "Finally, you’re gone!"—I might’ve believed she had a heart under all that big-sister warmth.

But helplessness wasn’t her usual role. She didn’t know how to play this scene.

Even though it wasn’t my fault, everyone still blamed me. Poor Nina, caught in the crossfire.

Zach Walker shoved his chair back with a screech and stormed over, snapping, "Jesus, Sarah, can you not make this a whole thing? We said it was a joke. Why do you always have to make everything about you?"

Classic. The ones playing games blame the victim. This whole dinner had been an ambush, and now I was the killjoy.

Zach always had a nasty edge—debate champion, Harvard Law dropout, professional jerk. I used to think it was just his personality, but later I realized he saved it for me. To everyone else, he was charming, hilarious, the life of the party.

As Michael’s wife, I’d never been accepted. Just the girl who’d somehow snagged their golden boy from the wrong side of town.

I ignored Zach’s barking. Just more noise, like the traffic outside.

My gaze stayed on Michael—those green eyes I’d fallen for at eighteen.

When he saw I wasn’t backing down, something clicked in his head. He laughed—a sharp, bitter sound that meant trouble.

He sneered, cold enough to frost the windows. Then, with deliberate roughness, he yanked Nina into his arms.

He glared at me and spat, "Fine, you said it, don’t regret it. You want out? You got it. Go home and pack your things, we’ll do the divorce papers tomorrow. Take whatever you brought into this marriage—which wasn’t much."

And then, in front of everyone, he grabbed Nina and kissed her. No warning. No shame.

It was a hungry, showy kiss—wet, loud, almost obscene in the sudden hush. Candlelight turned them gold and perfect, a spotlight on my humiliation.

He bent her backward, fingers digging into her neck, making it look like a scene from some trashy soap opera.

Nina’s hands pushed at his chest in a weak protest, but then she wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers in his hair—the way mine used to be.

Someone gasped. Probably Zach’s girlfriend. Then the click of phones as people started filming. Content for their group chat: "You won’t believe what just happened at dinner..."

I was closest. I saw everything—the way his thumb stroked her jaw, the tiny moan she let slip.

I opened my mouth, lips trembling, wanting to say something. Anything. Stop. Don’t. Why?

But there were no words for this. Only the sharp, bird-crash pain of something precious breaking.

Like every shared secret, every promise, every bit of our history—gone. Ten years of marriage reduced to broken glass.

I wanted to scream, to claw at something—anything—but all I could do was stand there, frozen, my heart pounding so loud I thought everyone could hear.

Then I shut my eyes, wiped my face blank, and walked out. Back straight, heels steady. They wouldn’t see me break.