**Diary Entry**
I knew he wouldnt believe me. If youre so convinced Im unfaithful, I said, my voice steady, why dont you tell everyone here who the real father of your son is? You were the one who let it slip.
Jamess voice was quiet, almost pleading. He stood in the middle of the room, already dressed in his formal suit, fingers nervously adjusting his perfectly knotted tie. I didnt turn around. Instead, I kept my eyes fixed on my reflection in the mirror, carefully applying deep wine-red lipstick with surgical precision. The dark burgundy silk of my dress clung to my figure, leaving little to the imagination, yet it was elegantmade for a woman who knew her worth. An outfit for battle.
Whats wrong with it, James? My tone was calm, even, betraying no irritation. And thatthat unnerved him more than anything. He was used to my temper, to arguments that could be brushed aside with an embrace and a pretense that all was well. But this icy composure? It was new. Foreign.
Well you know Mum. She might think its a bit much, he finally settled on, avoiding outright accusation.
I finished my makeup, set the lipstick down, and turned to face him slowly. A faint, cold smile played on my lips.
Your mother would find a burqa too revealing if I wore one. Or did you forget her phone call to Aunt Margaret last week? Whisperingloud enough for you to hearabout how I was flirting shamelessly with old Mr. Thompson from next door? The mans eighty-two and can barely tell me apart from the postman.
James flinched as if Id struck him. He remembered. Hed stood in the hallway that day, pretending to look for his keys while his mothers venomous words trickled from the kitchen. Hed walked away, and later, he told me I should just rise above it.
Lily, please, not tonight. Its her birthday. Fifty-five. Lets just get through this evening. For me. Ignore her, all right?
*Ignore her.* That had been the refrain of our last two years. Ignore it when she questioned my cooking in front of guests. Ignore the anniversary gifta book titled *How to Keep Your Husband from Straying*. Ignore the endless jabs, the sideways glances, the outright lies she spread with relish among the entire extended family. And I had. Id swallowed it, endured it. For him. For James, who looked at me with the eyes of a kicked puppy every time, torn between his mother and his wife.
But something had snapped. A month ago, or a week, or maybe just this morning, when Id chosen this dress. Id looked in the mirror and realized: I couldnt do it anymore. Couldnt be the bigger person. My patience hadnt just run outit had frozen solid, hardening into something sharp.
Of course, darling, I said, unexpectedly soft. His shoulders sagged with relief. I wont say a word. Ill be sweet and polite. Ill smile at your aunts, who think Im some sort of harlot. Ill kiss your mother and wish her many happy returns.
I stepped close, smoothing an invisible crease on his lapel. He moved to embrace me, but my body was rigid, a coiled spring.
Thank you, he whispered. I knew youd understand.
I met his eyes. There was no warmth left in my gaze. Only cold certainty.
Ill even make a toast. Something lovelyabout family, loyalty, honesty. I think your mother will appreciate it.
I picked up my clutch, the air filling with the sharp scent of my perfume. James smiled, oblivious to the trap in my words. He thought this was surrender.
He didnt realize I was walking into that party not to yield, but to burn it all down.
The restaurant hall was drowning in gold accents and gaudy opulence, the air thick with perfume, hairspray, and the rich smell of expensive food. It was stifling, suffocatinglike breathing in pure, condensed arrogance. Relatives I barely knew swarmed the table, handing Margaret bouquets and reciting hollow well-wishes. James beamed, basking in her spotlight as if it were his own.
My role? Decoration. Silent, pretty, and utterly insignificant. I sat with perfect posture, smiled when expected, and ignored the sticky, judgmental stares. Aunt Margarets friend shot my dress a disapproving glance before whispering to her neighbor. Jamess cousins wife inched closer to her husband, as if shielding him from my corruption.
The poison had done its work. To them, I was the outsider. The dangerous woman tolerated only because of James. And he? He noticed none of it. Or pretended not to. Too busy playing the dutiful son, propping up the illusion of a perfect family.
After the third course, the hired MCa loud, red-faced manrapped the microphone. And now, the highlight of our evening! The woman of the hourour beloved Margaret!
Applause erupted. Margaret rose, resplendent in champagne gold, every inch the queen. Her gaze swept the room, lingering just a moment too long on me.
My darlings! Her voice was rich, practiced. What is family, if not our fortress? Our safe harbor. But every fortress needs a strong foundationhonesty. Fidelity. Purity of heart.
A pause for effect. James squeezed my hand under the table. He thought it was reassurance. He didnt realize it was a jailers grip, demanding silence.
The backbone of any family is its women, she continued, steel creeping into her tone. Their virtue shapes our future. Im proud to say our family holds these values dear. So I raise my glassto integrity. To honor!
Polite clapping. Some women looked away; men coughed awkwardly. The toast had been too pointed, too much like a public flogging. James exhaled, grinning at me: *See? All fine.*
But the MC wasnt done. What a speech! Now, lets hear from the brideLily, come on up!
James stiffened. Every eye in the room locked onto me. I rose slowly, glass in hand, my smile serene. The smile of someone about to strike.
Dearest Margaret, I began, my voice clear and carrying. The room hushed. James relaxed slightly, mistaking my tone for deference.
Thank you. For your tireless concern. For your devotion to our familys reputationand mine, in particular. Few mothers-in-law take such a personal interest.
Confused murmurs. Was that sincerity or mockery? Margarets smile tightened. She sensed danger but couldnt see the blade yet.
You spoke so beautifully about honesty, I continued, my voice hardening. And I agreeits everything. Without it, a family is just a house of cards.
A pause. The room was dead silent.
So lets drink to honesty. The kind youve always preachedjust never practiced.
I turned to Margaret. My pleasant smile turned razor-sharp.
If youre so sure Im a cheat, why dont you tell everyone who *really* fathered James? You admitted it yourself when you were drunkhe isnt your husbands son.
Time stopped.
Margarets face drained of color. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream. James went rigid, staring at me like I was a stranger.
I finished my wine, set the glass down with a soft *clink*.
Unlike you, I added coolly, Ive been faithful.
Thenchaos. Margaret lunged across the table, shrieking, but her husband and cousin grabbed her. The party was over. James seized my arm, fingers digging in like a vise. Were leaving, he hissed, dragging me past the wreckage of his mothers prideand his own life.
The drive home was silent. James gripped the wheel, knuckles white. He didnt look at me.
Are you happy? he finally asked, voice hollow.
Thats a question for your mother. And yourself.
My *mother*? A bitter laugh. You destroyed her. Humiliated her in front of everyone. You didnt just hurt heryou destroyed *me*. My father. Everything. For what? To prove a point?
I said nothing. He didnt care about the truth. Only the facade Id shattered.
You never defended me, I said quietly. Not once. You asked me to endure. To be the bigger person. You let her poison everything. And tonight, you didnt pull me away to protect *me*. You did it to protect *her* from the truth.
His face changed then. Not angerfinality.
I cant be your husband anymore, he said. Not after this.
Im not asking you to.
I got out of the car. The cold night air smelled like
