The Ring

A knock comes, breaking the tension and silence that had brewed in the office.

My dad turns toward the sound of the knock. His expression is one of anger and... something else, I can't quite place. He walks out of the office without saying a word, and I can feel that this isn't about to be a completely civil conversation.

Vivienne follows, and I'm right behind her. Someone needs to anchor my dad. Maybe more than one person.

As we all head downstairs, our footsteps echo one after the other on the grandiose staircase carpet.

I hear the door open just before I reach the bottom of the stairs. I don't go straight to the door. I stay back, not because I'm scared, but because I can't look at Leandro without wanting to punch his face in.

"What are you doing here?" my dad asks, his tone short, cold.

"Mr. Valdés, I need to speak with Ariadna," Leandro answers, almost like he's scared, his eyes wandering behind my father to where I'm standing. He tries to come closer.

"You don't get to ask for anything." My dad's voice doesn't rise. It doesn't need to. "You're not welcome in this house anymore, Leandro."

"Mr. Valdés, please, I need to speak to her."

"No, you do not."

I take a step closer, my hand on my dad's shoulder. "It's fine, Dad." I'd like to listen to his mistake of an excuse.

My dad looks at me, as if asking if I'm sure. I nod.

He takes a step back, and Leandro walks in.

We all walk into the parlor, the room we only ever use for guests we don't fully trust, all cold marble and stiff furniture no one's supposed to actually sit on. It's the kind of room built to keep people at arm's length, which feels fitting tonight.

Vivienne follows behind, quietly, almost too quiet, like she's trying to take up as little space as possible in a conversation she has every reason to feel guilty about.

"Sit," my dad says to Leandro, though it sounds more like an order than an invitation.

Leandro sits on the edge of the sofa, hands clasped in front of him, and for a second he almost looks like the man I fell in love with. Almost.

"Ariadna," he starts, "I know what I did was..."

"Was what?" My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to. "Say it. Actually say the word."

My dad's hand comes up to hold mine, a quiet attempt to keep me from saying or doing something irrational. That small gesture makes me realize just how much this ordeal has affected me. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to steady down.

"Go on," I say, my voice short and cold, but with less bite than before.

"I was weak," he says, finally. "It was a moment of weakness, Ari. I let something stupid happen, and I hate myself for it. But it doesn't erase two years. It doesn't erase how much I love you."

"That, with her, it was nothing. A mistake. I'm getting married to you. Not her. It has always been you, Ariadna." He says it almost like he's trying to convince a bunch of toddlers.

From the corner of my eye, I can see something in Vivienne's face. Disgust, and anger, but not on my behalf. It's more directed at the fact that he didn't pick Camila. And that right there confirms it.

"Ari," he continues, "you are the love of my life. Our wedding is in three weeks. Our future together. We can't call the wedding off. What will people say?"

"And the merger?" he adds, quieter. "Our fathers have been working on it for weeks. You really want to throw all of that away over one mistake?"

"Is he serious?" I say to myself. My patience is wearing thinner the more he speaks.

"Young man, I don't think you're ready to get married, at least not to my daughter." My dad's voice is calm but cutting. "I'd never let her marry an unfaithful man who reduces something as serious as cheating to a mere mistake. I'm disappointed you'd do this, and with her stepsister, no less. Have you no shame?"

"She deserves better," my dad continues, "and that better is not you."

"Damn right it's not," I say under my breath, loud enough that they can hear.

"Where's she? Camila?" I ask, almost slyly. "Still at your place, I presume?"

Leandro's jaw tightens, and for the first time tonight, he doesn't have an immediate answer.

The silence stretches just long enough for my mind to betray me.

I remember the two of us at Camila's birthday dinner, laughing over a bottle of champagne, Leandro's hand on my knee under the table while Camila teased us about wearing matching outfits, which we hadn't planned. I remember thinking about how perfect my life seemed, surrounded by people who loved me. That night felt like proof of it.

I blink the memory away before it can bore holes into my mind.

"Ariadna, that's not fair."

"Fair?" I laugh, short, humorless. "You really want to talk to me about fair now."

My dad shifts beside me, his gaze sharpening on Leandro in a way I recognize from years of watching him negotiate business deals that mattered more than mere pleasantries.

"How long has this been going on for?" he asks, his tone even, but I can hear the effort it takes him to keep it that way.

Leandro doesn't answer right away, and I can feel my dad's anger building.

"I asked you a question." My dad steps half a pace forward. "How long, Leandro?"

"It doesn't matter how long..."

"It matters to me," my dad cuts in, sharp now. "Because that means you've been sitting across tables from me, shaking my hand, calling me family, while sleeping with my other daughter. So I'll ask one more time. How long has this been going on for?"

Leandro's silence answers before he does.

"I think it's time you leave, Leandro."

"Ari, you have to listen to me." His voice is panicked now, with a hint of possessiveness.

My dad stands, moving closer.

Leandro gets to his feet, but before he goes, he sets something down on the table.

The wedding ring. The one I threw at him.

"Keep it," he says softly.

I stare at the ring lon

g after the door closes behind him.

He didn't leave it like an apology. He left it like a promise.