Chapter one : TAMARA
902 Words
I stood still, as if caught in the very moment, my body stiff while the sound of laughter around me slowed and distorted, echoing in my ears like mockery. I shouldn’t have said anything at all. Julius had urged me earlier, nudged me softly, told me to say something—just try, babe, you’ll be fine—but I shouldn’t have listened. Now I had opened my mouth, and all I felt was the burn of humiliation.
I wanted to disappear.
“Tamara,” Julius called gently, looking straight at me, but I couldn’t meet his eyes.
My throat tightened, tears pricked the corners of my vision. I stood abruptly, desperate to escape, but the hem of my red dress snagged against the chair. The sound of fabric tearing rang louder than the laughter. It ripped, forceful and unforgiving, leaving the edge jagged as I pulled free.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. I covered my face with my hands, shame crashing down on me. Then I ran—through the polished marble corridor, past the golden lights, and into the restroom. The heavy door slammed behind me, muffling the voices outside.
Leaning against the wall, I pressed my palm to my mouth. My chest heaved, and my eyes burned. I caught sight of myself in the mirror: my makeup smudged with tears, my lipstick fading, and the torn hem of my dress swaying like a cruel reminder of how clumsy, how inadequate, I truly was.
“Baby, please. I’m sorry,” Julius’ voice came from the other side of the door. I froze. “I shouldn’t have—but…” His words trailed off. But what? I thought bitterly. What exactly was he going to say?
I bit my lower lip hard, stifling a sob, then turned on the tap and splashed water on my face. The cold sting grounded me. I rubbed at the streaked makeup, watching the black smudges fade down the sink.
It was a small comfort, reminding me of the one skill I was secretly proud of: makeup. I wasn’t the best, but I knew I had a gift for it. Some days, I told myself maybe this was my calling—maybe I could have built something around it. But then reality would return. Soon, I would be married to Julius Smith, the heir to one of the wealthiest empires in San Diego. A man like him didn’t need a wife who painted faces. He needed someone polished, someone educated and powerful like himself. Not a whimsy dreamer who barely survived college.
“Babe, we can talk this out,” Julius tried again, his voice gentle, coaxing. “It’s weird for me, standing in the ladies’ bathroom, but I don’t care. I’ll be here until you come out.”
I didn’t answer. My silence was my shield.
Life had never been fair to me. After my parents’ deaths, Diego and Tyler—my brothers—were given everything: the businesses, the estates, the control. I was left with scraps, the occasional allowance, and the suffocating reminder that I was “unfit” to handle anything real.
My aunt, who doubled as the family lawyer, had said it bluntly: “You’ll have to live under your brothers until you’re capable. It’s too risky to hand a company to someone who isn’t… skilled enough.”
Skilled. That word still cut me. They meant intelligent, but in truth they meant not dumb, not you, Tamara.
That day, the reading of the will, had been the worst day of my life—until tonight.
I swallowed hard, forcing back more tears, and whispered through the door: “Julius, give me a minute, please. I’ll be with you.”
I could almost picture him leaning against the wall, waiting with that stubborn patience of his. Like a groom waiting at the altar.
Inside, I knew he wasn’t laughing at me. The others had been, yes, but not him. When I dared to peek through the small crack of the door, I saw his face, and it wasn’t amusement—it was fury. He stared at his colleagues and family with such raw hate, as if silently cursing them for what they had done to me.
I looked down at the ring on my finger. It fit perfectly, a band of shimmering diamonds and gold. But tonight, it felt unbearably heavy. When one tear fell, it struck the stone, glistening like a cruel jewel of its own.
Would I really marry him? Could I?
We had been college sweethearts, once upon a time, when love was enough. But Julius had finished college. He had soared into his family’s business empire. And me? I was still dragging myself through repeated courses, clinging to the hope of finishing one day. My life was a mess, tangled and incomplete.
I wiped my face with a handkerchief and pushed the door open. Julius was right there, his eyes filled with apology, searching for forgiveness.
I kissed him softly, whispering, “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.”
It was always me. I always blamed myself, never others, even when the guilt wasn’t mine to carry. Julius had warned me against it, telling me often: “Tam, you can’t live this way. You can’t keep shielding everyone else at your expense.” But it had become my habit, ingrained from childhood.
- Writer
