AM I A JOKE?

I push the door open.

For a moment, nobody notices. The table is still too wrapped up in itself to see me standing there. Elizabeth is curled against Soren's chest, her fingers hooked into his shirt collar, laughing too loud at whatever one of the men just said. Another comment follows — something about how I probably don't even own a mirror — and the whole table dissolves into laughter again, hers the loudest, gleeful, delighted, like she's never had this much fun in her life. Soren says nothing. He doesn't laugh, but he doesn't stop it either.

I stand in the doorway, unseen, and listen to them tear me apart a little more.

Elizabeth is curled against Soren's chest, her fingers hooked into his shirt collar, her laugh still hanging in the air. He doesn't move to shrug her off. His arm is loose around her waist like it's been there all night, like it belongs.

The friend nearest the door — the one who mimicked my voice a few seconds ago, hand still half-lifted from his own face — sees me first. His mouth drops open. The color leaves his face so fast I watch it happen.

One by one the rest of the table follows his stare. Laughter dies mid-breath. A fork clatters against china somewhere and nobody moves to pick it back up. My heart is slamming so hard against my ribs I'm sure they can hear it too.

Elizabeth recovers first. She peels herself off Soren, smooths her dress with both hands, and crosses the room toward me with a smile stitched on so fast it doesn't reach her eyes.

"You must be Venice." Her gaze drops, sliding under my hair, hunting for the scar like it's something she's owed a look at. "I've heard so much about you."

She hasn't heard a single thing about me until tonight. I can see it in the way her eyes are still cataloguing my face.

Soren gets up next, crossing the room in long, unhurried strides, his expression rearranging itself into a softer and somewhat apologetic look. His eyes warm on me as he stops right beside 3me, close enough that our shoulders touched and his scent covered me.

"Those were just jokes." His voice drops low, meant only for me. "Don't take it to heart."

Watching him say it hurts worse than anything said at that table.

"I apologize on their behalf." He takes my hand in his and squeezes slightly. "They were really just joking. You can ask for anything, as compensation." The corners of his lips tip up, "Anything at all."

I rip my fingers away from his grasp and take a sharp step back, my spine hitting the doorframe, sending a sharp pain reverberating through my spine.

"What do you mean by that?" I breathed hard, "What did they mean by that?!" I pointed at his friends who did not even have the basic decency to look ashamed!

"Jeez, it was just a joke," the friend by the door mutters, not meeting my eyes but his lips twisted in a way that made it seem like I was overreacting.

A laugh claws its way out of my throat, sharp and humorless, scraping on the way out. "Is the burn on my face a joke?" I ran my shaky fingers through my hair, "My pain...my 'ugliness' is a source of entertainment to all you, is that right?"

Silence. Nobody at that table has an answer for that.

They were no longer looking at me.

Elizabeth reaches for my hand in the next second, wrapping both of hers around it, thumb stroking my knuckles like she's soothing something wounded. Her rings are cold against my skin. Her hands are warm. Mine have gone cold, from sweat, from the bubbling feeling in my stomach.

"Please don't be offended, Venice." Her voice shakes slightly , eyes wide with concern and a guilt I didn't understand. She looked wounded, like a woman any man would want to protect. "It's my fault, really." She bit her lip and unshed tears glinted in her eyes. "I only asked about you because I was curious. Be angry at me — just don't ruin the night for everyone." Her voice breaks, "Don't make this more awkward, please?"

I'm making things awkward?!

I yank my hand back so hard her nails catch skin.

Her face crumples completely and a single tear slides down her cheek. She turns to Soren with her lower lip trembling, eyes glossy. "I...I...I didn't mean to offend your wife, I'm so sorry." She stumbles back like I'd pushed her and falls straight into Soren's arms, he catches her almost immediately and the look in his eyes darken.

"Does your wife hate me?"

"Venice!" His voice sharpens, eyes narrowed into slits. Something other than the softness I've grown used to is there— finally, but not for me. "That's enough."

He doesn't ask if I'm alright. He doesn't ask what I heard, or how long I stood behind that screen listening to strangers pick apart my face like a menu item. He looks at her, gentle again, and at me like I'm the disruption.

"You don't have to treat her that way just because a joke upsets you, she's already apologized despite not needing to." He gestures at Elizabeth like she's the one who needs defending. "You're overreacting."

"I'm overreacting?" My heart feels like it is breaking into a thousand different pieces, the question rips from my lips, laced with the pain I can't mask.

Even he calls it a joke.

My face is a joke to him as well.

And ache so deep spreads through my chest, making it harder to breathe the longer I stared at his face.

I shake my head and turn around, walking out of the door, out of the room.

My trembling limbs carried me outside the building, I stopped for a few seconds as the evening wind hit my face.

My phone buzzes before I reach the car. The studio manager's call comes in.

"Hello? Miss Venice?"

"Hi...yes..." I clear my throat, "I had to make a quick stop but I'll be there soon."

"Oh, you don't have to do that. That's why I called. We're currently having some issues with our equipment so the agency has agreed that we should reschedule the recording to tomorrow morning. Is that okay with you?"

Actually, its good. My hands are shaking too hard right now to hold a pitch steady if my life depended on it.

"Yes, of course." I say in a steadier voice.

The call ends and I let out a trembling breath.

I don't go home. I can't sit across from him tonight, can't watch him walk through our front door still smelling like her perfume, still warm from being pressed against her all evening. I have the driver take me to a hotel a few blocks over instead, and I check in under my own name.

The room is quiet.

I sit on the edge of the bed, coat still on, hands trembling in my lap, and let everything I've held together finally break loose. Tears slide down my cheeks in waves of sorrow I can't contain, I let out a sob, then two...then more rock my bones, uncontrollably.

My spiraling mind can't help but replay the memory the jokes, about my face, the laughter they all shared at my expense.

And Soren just sat there, didn't defend me, he didn't stop them...he just watched, and he held her in his arms while doing so.

After six years of being married to him, he has never truly been mine.

It feels like I'm...nothing to him.

My phone lights up on the comforter beside me.

Soren's name fills the screen.