Chapter 4: The Mirror and the Mask

[The heroine just saw the truth, ahhh, please let her wake up and fight back!]

[Go out there and rip that jerk apart!]

If only anger could erase heartbreak. But the rawness in my chest was too fresh for fury—at least for now.

But I didn’t rush out to confront them. I turned around. Calmly walked back down the stairs.

I moved like I was underwater, every step leaden, numb. The door to the girls’ bathroom creaked open, fluorescent light buzzing overhead. The tile floor was so cold it seemed to leech what little strength I had left.

After dry heaving over the toilet for a while, I looked at the woman in the mirror. No sleep for days, eyes bloodshot, face haggard beyond belief.

It was like staring at a stranger—cheekbones too sharp, hair a wild mess. The kind of face that scares children in grocery store aisles, that makes old ladies whisper behind cupped hands. I looked like the ghost in a late-night Walmart parking lot.

I splashed some water on my face. Used a towel to wipe away the tear stains.

The water was freezing, stinging my skin awake. I pressed the towel against my eyes, willing myself to pull it together, at least for a few minutes. The world wouldn't wait for me to fall apart.

[As expected, even after knowing the truth, the heroine still chooses to swallow it in silence. So frustrating, ahhh.]

[Of course, she loves him so much. She must have heard the main guy say they’ll still get married when he comes back, so she’s just bottling it up.]

[I think the heroine doesn’t want to blow things up yet, she’s probably planning a big move.]

Their words stung in a way I couldn’t quite explain, a chorus of strangers urging me to be the kind of woman who fights back. But I wasn’t sure who I was anymore.

Walking out of the room. Derek handed me two tissues, his face full of concern: “Natalie, don’t be too sad. Evan, up in heaven, definitely wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

He tried to meet my gaze, his voice gentle—almost rehearsed. The scent of his cheap aftershave mingled with the cloying lilies from the foyer.

I looked up at his deliberately somber face. “Do you think Evan could still be alive?”

I held his gaze just a second too long, watching for the flicker of guilt I suspected was hiding there.