Dominics voice was quiet, almost pleading. He stood in the middle of the room, already dressed in his best suit, nervously adjusting his perfectly tied tie. Eleanor didnt turn around. She kept her eyes fixed on her reflection in the full-length mirror, applying a deep wine-coloured lipstick with surgical precision. The dark burgundy silk of her dress clung to her figure, leaving little to the imagination yet managing to look elegant and sophisticated. This was an outfit for a woman who knew her worth. An outfit for battle.
“Whats wrong with it, Dominic?” Her voice was calm, even, without a hint of irritation. It was that very composure that unsettled him most. He was used to her outbursts, the arguments they could sweep under the rug with an embrace and pretend nothing had happened. But this icy serenity was something new and foreign.
“Well you know Mum. She might think its a bit much,” he finally settled on a word that wouldnt sound like an outright accusation.
Eleanor finished her makeup, set the lipstick down, and turned to face him slowly. A faint, cold smile played on her lips.
Your mother would call a burqa provocative if I wore it. Or did you forget her phone call to Aunt Margaret last week? Whispering loud enough for you to hear about how I flirt with old Mr. Thompson next door? The mans eighty-two and can barely tell me apart from the postman.
Dominic flinched as if struck. He remembered that conversation. Hed stood in the hallway, pretending to look for his keys while his mother poisoned the air in the kitchen. Hed walked away, telling Eleanor later that she should rise above it.
“Ellie, please, not tonight. Its her fiftieth. Lets just get through this evening. For me. Just ignore her, alright?”
Ignore it. That phrase had been the refrain of their last two years. Ignore it when his mother questioned her cooking in front of guests. Ignore the anniversary gifta book titled *How to Keep Your Husband Happy*. Ignore the endless snide remarks, the sideways glances, the outright lies his mother spread with glee among the extended family. Eleanor had ignored it all. Swallowed it, endured it. For him. For Dominic, whom she loved, who looked at her with the eyes of a kicked puppy, torn between his mother and his wife.
But something had cracked. Maybe a month ago, maybe a week, or perhaps that very morning when shed chosen this dress. Shed looked in the mirror and realised she couldnt do it anymore. Couldnt be the bigger person. Her patience hadnt just run outit had frozen into a blade of ice.
“Alright, darling,” she said, suddenly soft. Dominic exhaled in relief. “I wont pay any attention. Ill be sweet and polite. Ill smile at your aunts who think Im a harlot. Kiss your mother and wish her many happy returns.”
She stepped close, smoothing an invisible crease on his lapel. He wanted to pull her into his arms, but her body was rigid, like a taut wire.
“Thank you, love,” he whispered. “I knew youd understand.”
Eleanor met his gaze. There was no warmth in her eyes, only cold calculation.
“Ill even make a toast. Something touching. About family, honesty, and loyalty. I think your mother will appreciate that.”
She picked up her clutch, the sharp scent of her perfume hanging in the air. Dominic smiled, missing the warning in her words. He didnt know she wasnt going to that party to surrender. She was going to burn it all down.
The restaurant hall was drowning in gold leaf and gaudy opulence, thick with the smell of perfume, hairspray, and expensive food. Eleanor found it suffocating. Relatives she barely knew swarmed their table, handing Patricia bouquets and reciting stiff congratulations. Dominic beamed, basking in the glow as if it were his own celebration.
Eleanor played her partthe silent, decorative wife. She sat straight-backed, smiled when expected, and endured the sticky, judgmental stares. Aunt Margaret eyed her dress with disapproval before whispering to her neighbour. Dominics cousins wife inched closer to her husband, as if shielding him from corruption. The poison had done its work. Eleanor was the outsider. The dangerous one.
After the third course, the hired MCa loud, red-faced manrapped the microphone.
“And now, the moment weve all been waiting for! Our guest of honour, the woman of the hourPatricia!”
The room erupted in applause. Patricia rose, resplendent in her champagne-coloured gown, every inch the queen. Her gaze lingered on Eleanor a second too long.
“My darlings,” she began, her voice rich with practised warmth. “Family is our fortress. Our safe harbour. But every fortress needs a strong foundation. And that foundation is honesty. Loyalty. Purity of heart.” She paused, letting the words sink in. Eleanor felt Dominic squeeze her hand under the tablea reassurance that missed the mark entirely.
“The backbone of any family is its women,” Patricia continued, steel creeping into her tone. “Its their wisdom, their virtue, that ensures our future. I raise my glass to true, unshakable family values!”
The applause was thinner this time. Dominic exhaled, relieved.
But the MC wasnt done. “And now, lets hear from the bride! Eleanor, come on up!”
Every eye turned to her. Dominic stiffened. Eleanor rose smoothly, lifting her wine glass, her smile serene.
“Dear Patricia,” she began, her voice cutting through the murmurs. “Thank you. For your tireless concern. For how deeply you care about this familys reputation. Especially mine.”
A ripple of confusion passed through the room. Patricias smile tightened.
“You spoke so beautifully about honesty,” Eleanor continued, her tone hardening. “I couldnt agree more. Without it, a family is just a house of cards. So lets drink to honesty. The kind youve so generously shared behind my back.”
The room froze. Eleanor turned to Patricia, her smile sharpening.
“Since youre so sure Im unfaithful, why dont you tell everyone here who *you* cheated with to conceive your son? You confessed it to me yourself when you were drunkhes not your husbands.”
Silence. Patricias face drained of colour. Dominic went rigid. His fatherquiet, unassuminglooked between them with dawning horror.
Eleanor finished her wine, set the glass down with a deliberate *clink*.
“Unlike you,” she said coolly, “Ive been faithful to my husband.”
The room erupted. Patricia lunged across the table, shrieking, clawing at the air. Dominic grabbed Eleanors arm, dragging her toward the exit.
The drive home was tense, silent in a way that screamed louder than any argument. Dominic gripped the wheel like he wanted to break it.
“Are you happy?” His voice was hollow.
“Ask your mother that question. Or yourself.”
He laughed bitterly. “You destroyed her. Humiliated her in front of everyone. You didnt just burn bridgesyou napalmed them. For what? To prove a point?”
Eleanor turned to him. “I turned on the light in the dark room youve all been living in. You didnt like what you saw. Thats not my fault.”
He stared at her, his eyes empty. “Shes my mother.”
“And I was your wife. You let her destroy us.”
He exhaled. “I cant be your husband after this.”
“Im not asking you to.”
A month later, a letter arrived. Divorce papers. A single handwritten line tucked inside:
*I couldnt protect you. And you couldnt spare me. I suppose we both lost.*
Spring came. Eleanor donated the burgundy dress.
On a bridge one day, she saw him. Older, wearier.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hello.”
They stood in silence, watching the river.
“Take care, Eleanor.”
“You too, Dominic.”
They walked away, the current carrying the wreckage of their past downstream.
Eleanor kept walking, the wind drying the last of her tears. She didnt know what lay ahead. But for the first time in years, she wasnt afraid.
