The Taste of Indifference
1027 Words
Aurora stopped breathing.
Everything around her blurred into a smudge of gray and gold—the bustling lobby, the rhythmic clicking of heels, the sharp rain against the glass, and the toxic whispers of the staff. All she could see was Vander standing beside another woman.
The brunette leaned into his space with a practiced, natural confidence, as if she were the one who belonged there. As if she were the rightful woman at his side.
Aurora’s fingers tightened painfully around the strap of her purse. Inside, the pregnancy test—the little plastic stick that had been her beacon of hope only twenty minutes ago—suddenly felt unbearably heavy. Like lead in her hand.
Evander finally lifted his eyes.
For one agonizing second, their gazes locked. Aurora waited. She braced herself for a spark of surprise, a flicker of warmth, or even a hint of guilt.
Nothing.
His expression remained terrifyingly calm. Cold. Detached. As though seeing his wife standing in the center of his empire meant absolutely nothing more than a smudge on his polished marble floors.
The woman beside him noticed Aurora almost immediately. Her crimson lips curved into a slight, predatory smile. It wasn't kind, and it certainly wasn't surprised. It was amused.
“Oh,” she said softly, her eyes dancing between them. “I didn’t realize we had company.”
Heat crawled up Aurora’s neck, a scorching wave of shame. Nearby, the receptionists lowered their heads, pretending to shuffle papers while straining to catch every syllable of the impending train wreck.
Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Because everyone knew the truth. In this building, Aurora wasn't the CEO's wife—she was the unwanted shadow. The temporary charity case.
Vander slipped one hand into his pocket, his posture radiating a bored kind of power.
“Aurora,” he acknowledged.
Just her name. Flat. Final.
He didn't ask what she was doing there. He didn't ask if she was okay in the rain. He didn't even offer to take her upstairs.
Aurora forced a smile, even as the humiliation clawed at her throat like a physical hand. “I… I came to see you.”
The words sounded embarrassingly small in the vast, echoing lobby. The brunette watched her with open curiosity now, her gaze scanning Aurora’s modest coat and damp hair. She was evaluating her—like a queen looking at a peasant and realizing there was no competition to speak of.
Evander checked his watch, a subtle movement that felt like a slap. “I’m busy.”
The rejection hit harder than it should have. Aurora swallowed the lump in her throat. “It’ll only take a minute.”
“I have a meeting,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, signaling the end of the conversation.
“A very important one,” the woman added, her smile widening.
Aurora’s stomach twisted violently. For a heartbeat, she thought she might actually break down right there. But she refused. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction—not in front of a lobby full of people who were already waiting for her to fail.
She straightened her spine, clinging to the tattered remains of her dignity. “I just thought maybe we could have lunch together,” she whispered.
The silence that followed was brutal.
Vander’s jaw tightened, a microscopic movement that suggested her very presence was an exhaustion he hadn't planned for.
“I won’t be available today.”
Formal. Polite. Cold enough to freeze the blood in her veins.
The woman touched his arm again, her red nails stark against his dark suit. “We’re going to be late, Vander.”
Aurora looked at that hand on her husband and felt a wave of pure, unadulterated stupidity. She had entered this building carrying hope like a fragile flame. She had imagined him smiling. She had imagined him pressing his hand over her stomach and finally seeing her.
We’re having a baby.
The words died in her mind, unsaid and unwanted. She stood there like an inconvenience while another woman claimed his space. And the worst part? Evander wasn’t even trying to hide it.
Aurora lowered her gaze before the tears could spill. “Oh,” she said quietly. “Okay.”
Something flickered across Vander’s face then. It wasn't guilt—he didn't do guilt. It was more like irritation, or perhaps a fleeting discomfort. But it vanished before she could name it.
The woman’s heels clicked sharply against the marble as she moved toward the exit. Vander followed her without a second thought.
No goodbye. No explanation. No backward glance.
Aurora stared after them, numb, as the lobby doors whirred open and a gust of cold, rain-heavy air swept inside. Then, it came. The whisper she had been dreading.
“God, that’s embarrassing.”
A quiet, muffled laugh followed.
“I almost feel bad for her,” another voice added.
Aurora’s throat tightened so much she could barely draw breath. She wanted the floor to open up. She wanted to vanish into the gray New York skyline. Instead, she stood perfectly still while the fire of humiliation burned through every inch of her skin.
The receptionist cleared her throat awkwardly. “Mrs. Drakos… do you still want me to call his assistant?”
Aurora blinked rapidly, forcing a smile that felt like it was breaking her face. “No,” she whispered, her voice cracking. She hated herself for that crack. “Thank you.”
She turned and walked toward the exit. She focused on every step. Slow. Controlled. Head high. Only a lifetime of surviving loneliness kept her legs from giving out.
The moment the glass doors closed behind her, the Manhattan rain hit her. Cold. Sharp. Merciless.
Aurora stopped beneath the building’s black awning, finally pressing a trembling hand against her stomach. And for the first time since leaving the hospital, the joy was gone.
Fear took its place.
She wasn’t thinking about her own heart anymore. She was thinking about the life growing inside her. A baby that deserved warmth, a home, and a father who didn't look at its mother like she was invisible.
- Writer
