Chapter Three
1687 Words
The cab dropped her at home. She stumbled inside, collapsed on the couch, and called Christy.
“Hey babe! What’s—”
“I can’t do this anymore.” The words tore out of Gia in a broken sob.
“Gia? What happened? Where are you?”
“David’s mother. She—she showed him pictures. Of other women. Called me unworthy. Said I’m an embarrassment. And he just—he barely defended me, Christy. He barely said anything.”
“Oh, honey. Eleanor is a miserable old woman. You know that. She’s been terrible to you from the beginning.”
“But David didn’t stop her. He never stops her.”
“Because she’s his mother. He’s in an impossible position.”
“I’m his wife”
“I know. I know you are.” Christy’s voice softened. “Listen to me, Gia. You are beautiful exactly as you are. Eleanor’s opinions don’t matter. David’s mother doesn’t get to define your worth. You’re smart, kind, loving—any man would be lucky to have you.”
“Then why doesn’t my own husband feel that way?”
“He does. He’s just too stupid to show it properly.” Christy sighed. “Men are idiots, babe. They don’t know what they have until they lose it. But you can’t let Eleanor get in your head. She’s miserable, so she wants everyone else to be miserable too.”
Gia wiped her eyes, clinging to Christy’s words like a lifeline. “You really think I’m beautiful?”
“The most beautiful person I know. Inside and out.”
“Thank you.” Gia’s voice cracked. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’ll never have to find out,” Christy promised. “Now go take a bath, have some wine, and forget about Eleanor. She’s not worth your tears.”
After they hung up, Gia sat in the darkness of her living room, Christy’s words echoing in her mind.
She wanted desperately to believe them.
-----
The days crawled by. David’s emotional abuse continued—little comments about her appearance, her weight, her clothes. But he’d also started bringing home more gifts, more flowers. Their anniversary was approaching, and Gia found herself hoping, against all logic, that maybe things will change after that.
Maybe he’d remember why he’d married her in the first place.
Three days before the anniversary, David surprised her with plane tickets.
“What’s this?” She turned the envelope over in her hands.
“I’ve been thinking.” He sat beside her on the couch, taking her hand. “Our anniversary should be special. I want to throw you a party.”
Gia’s heart swelled. “Really?”
“Really.” He kissed her forehead. “You deserve it.”
For the first time in months, Gia felt a flicker of hope.
The anniversary arrived on a Saturday evening. Gia had spent hours getting ready, determined to look perfect. She’d chosen a golden lace gown that shimmered under the lights.
She studied herself in the mirror. The dress hugged her body, emphasizing her full chest, the curve of her waist, the roundness of her hips. She looked beautiful.
She looked like herself.
“David?” She descended the stairs. “How do I look?”
He was adjusting his tie in the hall mirror, devastatingly handsome in a charcoal suit. He glanced up, and for a moment, Gia thought she saw appreciation in his eyes.
Then it vanished.
“You look good,” he said flatly.
Not beautiful. Not stunning. Just good.
Gia’s smile faltered. “You look handsome.”
“Thanks.” He checked his watch. “We should go. Don’t want to be late to our own party.”
The venue was stunning. Tables were laden with food and champagne. A string quartet played in the corner.
Eleanor was there, of course, glaring at Gia from across the room like she’d personally offended God.
“Gia! David!” One of David’s colleagues approached, a bottle of champagne in hand. “Congratulations! How many years now?”
“Three,” Gia said, her voice bright and happy.
“Three wonderful years,” David added, though his eyes were scanning the room.
The colleague wandered off, and Gia turned to David. “I’m so happy you did this. Thank you.”
“Of course.” He kissed her temple absently. “Excuse me for a moment. I need to greet some people.”
He disappeared into the crowd before she could respond.
Gia stood alone, clutching her champagne flute, watching her husband work the room.
Then Christy arrived.
She swept into the hall in a red dress that clung to every curve, her dark hair styled in elegant waves, her makeup flawless. Every head turned.
Including David’s.
Gia watched as her husband’s entire body oriented toward Christy like a compass finding north. She watched as Christy crossed to them,.
“Happy anniversary, you two!” Christy hugged Gia, then David. But the hug she gave David lasted a beat too long.
“Thanks for coming,” David said.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Christy squeezed Gia’s hand. “You look gorgeous, babe.”
“So do you.”
She watched them. Watched the way David’s eyes kept drifting back to Christy. Watched the way Christy touched his arm when she laughed. Watched the way they seemed to orbit each other.
Her stomach turned.
It’s nothing, she told herself. You’re being paranoid.
But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong.
An hour into the party, David’s phone buzzed.
“Excuse me,” he said to the group he’d been talking to. He found Gia near the gift table. “I need to step out for a moment. Business call.”
“At our anniversary party?”
“It’s important. I’ll be right back.”
He kissed her cheek and left before she could protest.
Gia stood there, surrounded by guests, feeling utterly alone. She looked around for Christy—maybe her friend could keep her company—but Christy had vanished too.
Eleanor materialized beside her, a vulture in Chanel.
“He’s gone again, I see.” Eleanor’s smile was poisonous. “My son is a very important man. ”
Gia’s jaw clenched. “If you’ll excuse me—”
“Running away? How typical.” Eleanor’s eyes raked over Gia’s dress, her body, with undisguised contempt. “That dress does nothing for your figure, dear. You should really consider a better tailor. Or a better gym.”
Gia’s eyes burned, but she refused to let Eleanor see her cry. She turned and walked away,.
She needed air. She needed space.
The garden. She’d go to the garden.
Gia stepped outside, grateful for the silence, the darkness.
A white tent had been set up near the back of the garden—probably for storage, or maybe for smokers. Near it sat a small wrought-iron bench. Gia sank onto it, closing her eyes, letting the breeze cool her flushed skin.
Just breathe. Just get through tonight.
Then she heard voices.
A man’s voice. A woman’s.
“—can’t keep doing this,” the woman was saying. “It’s torture, being this close to you and not being able to touch you.”
Gia’s eyes snapped open. That voice. She knew that voice.
Christy.
“I know.” The man’s voice was rough with want. “But we have to be careful. Just a little longer.”
David.
No. No, it couldn’t be.
“A little longer?” Christy’s laugh was bitter. “How much longer, David? How much longer do I have to watch you play happy husband while I’m—”
“Let’s just get rid of her.”
Gia’s blood turned to ice.
“How?” David’s voice.
“I don’t know. Divorce, maybe? She’d be devastated, but she’d survive.”
“Divorce is messy and expensive. My mother would have a field day.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Christy’s voice turned sharp. “Because I’m not doing this forever. I’m not going to be your dirty little secret while that fat, pathetic pig gets to call herself Mrs. Harlow.”
Gia’s breath stopped. The world tilted.
“Don’t call her that,” David said, but there was no conviction in it.
“Why not? It’s true. She’s shapeless, David. She’s embarrassing. You said so yourself.”
“I know, but—”
“But nothing.” Rustling sounds. “If you’re not willing to get rid of her, then I’m done. I’m not wasting my life on a man who won’t choose me.”
“No. Wait.” David’s voice turned desperate. “Okay. Okay, I’ll think about it. The divorce. Or—or maybe there’s another way.”
“Another way?” Christy sounded intrigued.
“We could—I don’t know. Make her want to leave. Push her until she can’t take it anymore. Make her think it’s her idea.”
“That could work.” Excitement crept into Christy’s voice. “We could make her life so miserable she’d beg for a divorce.”
“And then you and I—”
“Could finally be together. Properly.”
Silence. Then sounds that made Gia want to vomit.
“God, you’re so beautiful. So perfect. Not like—”
“Don’t.” Christy’s voice was breathy. “Don’t think about her. Just focus on me.”
Gia stood on shaking legs. Her vision had gone dark at the edges. Her heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice.
She walked to the tent entrance. Pulled back the flap.
And saw them.
David had Christy pressed against a support beam. They were so lost in each other they didn’t even notice they had an audience.
“How could you?”
They froze.
David and Christy turned to look at her, and the worst part—the absolute worst part—was that neither of them looked ashamed.
David looked annoyed, like she’d interrupted an important meeting.
Christy looked triumphant.
- Writer
