HE PLAYED TWO WOMEN AND LOST EVERYTHING

Vera’s POV I rushed into the restroom, slammed the door shut, and barely made it to the sink before I threw up. Am I dreaming? No.... no, I’d held it in my hand just a few minutes ago, a black credit card, cold, and heavy. The name engraved on it in gold letters was clear; Ethan Brooks. A loud bang on the door pulled me out of my twisted thoughts, followed by Ms. Harlow’s yell. “What the hell are you doing in there?” She slammed her fist against the restroom door repeatedly, the sound echoing through the small space like a heartbeat. I glanced at the door and sniffed my runny nose. “Just a minute, please,” I said, my voice almost cracking. I leaned over the sink, staring at my puke inside it, my eyes brimming with tears. I squeezed them shut and forced myself to breathe through my nose. The stranger’s voice came echoing carelessly in my head again, “No, darling, I’m just living life… Ethan’s wife died years ago. She’d been lucky to be with such a loving man before she died.” Dead? He told her I was dead? The thought hit me like a punch, and my stomach twisted in protest. "Get the f**k out of there, b***h! You have a customer waiting, Vera! We don’t pay you to hide in the restroom!” Ms. Harlow screamed, and banged the door harder this time making me flinch. I turned on the tap, washing everything away as fast as I could. Water splashed on my hands and my uniform but I didn’t care, my heart was pounding too loudly to think. I wiped my face with the back of my hands, and unlocked the door to see Ms. Harlow standing there, arms crossed, and heels tapping impatiently against the floor. Her sharp eyes scanned me from head to toe before she snarled, “You look like s**t! Fix it! Customers don’t pay to see your problems.” I felt her words slice through me, but I kept my head down, eyes burning. Fix it? How? By pretending I'm fine when I'm falling apart? “Get going!” She stepped aside, and I walked past without saying a word, her gaze dragging over me, face twisted in disgust, like I was something dirty. I walked back into the sales area, and the lights hit me instantly, too bright and clean. Everything was shining... polished floors, and glass shelves lined with dresses worth more than my rent. The stranger was still there, standing by the counter, flawless as ever. Perfect hair, perfect makeup, and a smile that didn’t know what hunger felt like. She was still on that call that was driving me insane. She laughed softly into her phone. “Well… just shopping for our vacation tomorrow,” she said, pausing for a few seconds as she listened to whoever she was speaking to. She purred. “Why not? Yeah, life’s good with Brooks.” My heartbeat quickened when I heard her mention my husband’s name again. But what could I do? Absolutely nothing. Moreover, Ms. Harlow was standing nearby, watching me like a hawk, waiting to see if I'd mess up again. I took my place behind the counter, my hands suddenly feeling weak. As soon as she caught sight of me, she ended her conversation over the phone, and turned to me. “Hi, you disappeared.” “I’m sorry,” I replied sharply. “I wasn’t feeling well,” my gaze fixed on the counter because I couldn't even look her in the eye. “I’ll take these,” she said, pushing a pile of expensive dresses toward me, all part of a limited collection. Crap! I hadn’t even had breakfast, yet someone was about to swipe my husband’s card on dresses labeled ‘limited collection.’ I blinked rapidly, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I scanned the tags—the price on the screen was more money than I had made in the last three years. My hands shook as I folded the clothes. Then, she took out the black card and put it on the counter again. Name: Ethan Brooks. Code: 7780. I stared at it for another second… the same name, same four-digit code he used for our empty bank account. I clenched my teeth and swiped the card. It went through. I breathed in… and then out. “Would you like a receipt?” “Sure,” she said, staring at me. I picked up my pen, my fingers unsteady. “For the receipt, may I have your name?” “Katherine Stone.” I wrote it down on the receipt book but before I could finish the last ‘n’, the pen mistakenly slipped from my fingers, hitting the counter with a loud clack and rolled away. My heart started racing again at what I'd just done. Ms. Harlow immediately stepped closer and glared at the pen, then at me, her eyes brimming with disdain. “Vera, what the hell is wrong with you today?” I didn't answer her, I couldn't. I just stared at the name on the receipt and the card lying there like a weapon. Katherine looked at me closely now, her smile fading into confusion. “Are you okay?” she whispered. I looked at her, in the reflection of the glass behind her, I saw my own face, pale and broken. “Yes… I’m okay,” I lied, handing the card back to her with fingers that no longer felt like mine. “Have a nice day.” I murmured. She smiled, though she looked a bit worried. “You too, I hope you feel better.” She grabbed the packed dresses she’d bought, turned and walked out, her heels clicking confidently across the floor. I watched her leave the boutique, my mind still spinning. She's off to pack for a vacation with maybe my Eth. “What just happened now, Vera?” Ms. Harlow snapped, making me tremble. She grabbed my chin and forced my face up to hers, her fingers hurt. She didn't even let me answer her first question, then she said the worst. “For the next two days, I don’t want to see you anywhere near Lumière House… you’re a disaster, and you’re scaring off customers. You’re suspended for two days, and it’s coming out of your pay. Go home, and deal with whatever mess you're hiding.” “But Ms.–” “Shut the f**k up!” She sighed, rolled her eyes, and walked straight to her office, leaving me speechless. I felt eyes on me, and heard my colleagues whisper. Embarrassment burned inside me as I lowered my head again, staring at my shoes, the soles thin and patched over too many times. Almost instantly, the bell's sharp ring cut through, making me flinch. I let out a slow breath I didn’t know I was holding and began to pack my things behind the counter, my hands still shaking as I shoved my belongings into my bag. I picked up my bag, dropped it twice by mistake before I finally held it steady. “Vera… get hold of yourself.” I whispered to myself. My head felt full of too many thoughts already and now, my manager has just suspended me for two days, which is going to affect my pay. I turned to leave and slammed straight into someone. “Oof..!” My bag slipped from my shoulder, papers flew everywhere, and my phone hit the floor sliding across the tiles. His things fell too—two phones, and keys clattering loudly. “I’m so sorry,” I panicked, dropping to my knees, and gathering his things. I looked up and almost forgot how to breathe. I’d just bumped into one of Lumière House’s best and most regular customers, Mr. Larry York… unfairly handsome like always, tall, broad shouldered, sharp jaw, with dark hazel eyes that just stopped on me and didn't move. The smell of his designer perfume filled my lungs—the kind of scent you don’t forget. He’d always been nice to me, and now I just might've messed things up. For a second, neither of us spoke, not until Ms. Harlow's voice cut through the boutique like a whip. “Oh, s**t! You again!” She rushed toward us, and my heart slammed into my chest. Before I could react, a huge guy stepped in front of Mr. Larry, solid, and expressionless, grabbed my arm and shoved me back roughly. "Next time watch where you're going young woman," he snapped, tightening his fist like he wanted to punch me, eyes narrowed. I stumbled, nearly falling, yet Ms. Harlow rushed forward and pushed me aside like trash. “We are so sorry, Mr. York,” she stuttered, almost bowing, her hands clasped together. “She works here… she suffers memory problems. If you want, I can fire her right now.” She glanced at me with a dismissive look, like I was a problem to be solved. It made my skin crawl. Mr. Larry said nothing. He only stared at me with an unreadable expression, his eyes narrowed slightly, while the huge guy bent down to pick his things. Then I knew... my life was about to get much worse.