The Other Wife

Three Years and a Red Dress

PENÉLOPE

Makeup.

Dresses and a fashion obsession.

Learning to walk in heels.

And leaving my soul almost vomiting to go running. How was it possible that Camille had the upper hand when youth was supposed to prevail?

"Camille, Camille," I called as I tried to keep up with her. We had been running for fifteen minutes, and I felt like my lungs would soon come out through my mouth. "Can we take a break?"

Camille didn't respond. She kept running without even looking back. After twenty more minutes of torture, we finally began to jog, to slow down.

"We're going to do this every day or until you find something you like and that exercises you," she said when I finally caught up with her.

"Every day?" My horrified expression said it all.

"Yes. You can't let that ass you're carrying go to hell."

I sighed resignedly. If I wanted a change, I had to start by changing various habits and adapting to a better version of myself. I ended up taking Pilates classes because I hated running.

Camille forced me to go to the spa where I had facials, waxing, and relaxing massages, supposedly to improve circulation and make my skin look radiant. Feeling the hot wax on my face, legs, and... yes, in that little corner too. According to the girl who attended to me, I would get used to it over time.

I was on the spa bed, lying down with the bikini area full of wax and strips about to be ripped off. I had never felt so much adrenaline for beauty, and at that moment, I was doubting if I really preferred to stay in my outdated clothes.

"I don't think the bikini area is necessary..." Too late. I felt like my skin had been ripped off, and my soul had left my body. I hadn't remembered how painful it was the first few times. With tears in my eyes from the pain, I decided that next time I would opt for laser hair removal.

I left the place with my legs slightly open, looking like I had just given birth, after the bikini waxing. Camille glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, and with her head held high, she kept walking.

The following days were spent shopping for clothes, shoes, and accessories. The only time I really had fun shopping was when we went to the jewelry store to buy accessories for my outfits. I won't say that Camille was patient with me, but I can say that I was beginning to see clothes with different eyes.

We arrived home, and I was defeated, only thinking about taking a hot bath and rubbing my feet to rest. I didn't know where Camille was getting so much energy from. I was about to go up the stairs to go straight to my bedroom when I stopped dead in my tracks.

"Before you go to bed, we have to do something else," she spoke from behind me. Did she really want to do more? I sighed; I couldn't complain.

"What else do we have to do?" I asked, somewhat fearful that she wanted to take another turn at the mall.

"I asked them to bring down all your old clothes. Fortunately, there's not much to do, some kind of ritual," she showed me a bottle of wine and smiled.

I went down the stairs. We headed to the garden where they had set up a bonfire. My old clothes were next to it.

"You can't start a change without being able to express how you feel," I saw her take one of my garments to put it in my hands.

"But I don't want to burn the clothes."

"Listen, girl, I went through something similar, and you can't let misfortune take away your charm. Burning your old clothes means you're ready for a real change. It's not just superficial, but looking fashionable and with an impeccable combination is part of telling the world that you're not just anyone. Feeling like you have the power to conquer the world is a choice."

She turned around, leaving me alone. For the first time, I felt that burning my clothes meant a huge change in my life. Seeing the fire and the garment in my hand made a lot of feelings come to the surface. My hands were trembling, and I had that need not let myself appear more vulnerable.

To hell with everyone.

I threw my clothes into the fire without tears in my eyes, just feeling that need to make a change in myself. I had been depressed because of everything that had happened to Rodrigo and my sister. I had sunk even deeper because of Ulises and that stupid sale they made for me.

I took off what I was wearing and threw it into the fire, remaining in my underwear.

"f**k you all," I said as a celebration.

That night I felt that something changed in me, and it was by my own choice. I didn't want to see myself in the same way ever again.

The day of the jewelry event had arrived, and I had adopted my new image with my willingness to change, even if it meant that the heels were torturing my feet. I began to attract attention by speaking that night about my knowledge of jewelry, the meanings, and the appropriate combinations.

With my champagne-toned dress, Chanel heels, the jewelry I was wearing, contact lenses, and the styling of a professional stylist, I had been given my new look. I felt beautiful for the first time in a long time.

Since that night, my life has changed, and although Ulises was present in my thoughts, my resentment towards him began to grow with the days when his absence hit me. He wasn't any different from Rodrigo. They were exactly the same.

I began to obsess more about jewelry and its processes. I started studying geology books and everything related to jewelry on my own. With the money Ulises had given me.

I started to modify the jewelry I had, with the knowledge I had acquired due to my obsession, to sell it to Camille's friends and people with high purchasing power.

My work began to be so recognized among the elitist society that I soon found myself involved in a lot of work until I finally decided to start "Penny Shine Jewelry," my own jewelry line with my own designs and an enviable client portfolio.

I had decided to flee Paris and go to a distant place where Ulises wouldn't be able to find me, but France had given me so much that I decided to stay. If he ever returned to my life, I wouldn't flee like he did with me. I would confront him. My company was growing by leaps and bounds, so I wasn't worried about anything else.

And so three years passed.

Paris had become my place of change. I was no longer the same innocent girl. Now I had a classy wardrobe, the desire to conquer the world, be rich, a business executive, beautiful as hell itself, and above all, I had become stronger than ever.

It was a fresh Parisian morning. I was at my favorite restaurant near my office, having my coffee and croissant that I tried not to consume too often. When Camille, with whom I had agreed to meet later to show her my jewelry design proposal for her next event, sat across from me.

She took off her sunglasses and ordered an Americano from the waiter. She didn't say anything, just stared at me. Her cup arrived, and she took a sip.

"What are you looking at?" I asked her. "My coat is Armani if that's what you're wondering."

"No, darling, I'm not wondering about that," she said, placing the cup on her plate and looking me in the eyes. "What I'd like to predict is what you'll do when I give you the news."

"What news?" I asked her.

"How often do you watch business news?"

"Every day."

"Have you seen today's news?"

"Not really."

Camille pulled a magazine out of her bag and threw it in front of me with a page open. At first, I didn't know what it was about until I recognized Ulises in the photo, holding hands with a woman. Both were smiling amidst the flashes of cameras at an important event. I hadn't remembered his face so well until that moment that I had seen him again. He looked more attractive than ever.

I cursed nature for giving him such good genetics when he didn't deserve them, because he was a damn i***t.

"Upcoming wedding."

He was a damn bastard, I couldn't describe him any other way. I got lost in the photograph where he looked happy. I was furious.

"Well? What are you going to do?" Camille asked me.

"I think he's forgotten he's married," I said with sarcasm.

"So, what are you going to do now?"

"I don't plan to be the other wife. I think I have a wedding to attend," I smiled.

Camille smiled.

"That's my girl. Destroy him."

I was furious, but I wouldn't act hastily like that time I married him. This time will be different. I had to leave everything arranged within my company with Camille in charge when I returned to Paris.

I traveled to the city three days before the wedding to investigate all the details of the big event within the business world.

The big day had arrived, and I dressed in a red Hugo Boss dress that showed the elegance I had acquired in Paris, with jewelry of my own creation and my golden Jimmy Choo sneakers, my red lips from Chanel. It was the perfect combination to make an appearance.

Was I nervous? No. I was eager to get to the appointment, dying to present myself before the altar and see the world burn.

I rented a Rolls-Royce, as mine had been left in France. I sprayed a bit of perfume on me, and I was ready to go to the event.

I drove to the church where the wedding was taking place. I got out of the car and walked with my heels towards the altar. I adopted the diva posture that had characterized me at all times, and I prepared to make my triumphant entrance.

I walked making noise with my sneakers, my gaze high and attracting the attention of all the guests who turned to see me as the unknown intruder who was interrupting a sacred ceremony... sacred my ovaries. They were soon going to know who I really was.

The murmurs of the people about who I was becoming present, so present that even the speaker had to interrupt the ceremony when he saw that I kept walking towards the couple. Yes, I saw him standing there with his back to me, as handsome as ever.

He finally turned to see me. I kept my posture at all times, knowing that with my mere presence, he would turn pale and almost s**t himself at the revelation I was at that moment.

The whole place fell silent, watching Ulises' reaction, who was sweating from his temples and couldn't stop looking at me at that moment as if I were his worst nightmare. To begin with, I had interrupted his sacred vows.

I smiled at him with a certain malice.

"Who is she?" the woman next to him, dressed as a bride, asked.

We held our breath, he out of fear, and me because I was about to hear music in my ears. To think that I had gone crazy in love with that man some time ago. His abandonment and betrayal had made me stronger than ever.

"She's Penelope, my wife," he said with barely a thread of voice.

My outfit had been worth it for such a memorable moment.