Chapter Six

LISA’S POV

The entire room became frozen.

What just happened?

I wondered…

Just minutes ago, I was having the time of my life, being proposed to by the man of my dreams, surrounded by beautiful people, good music and champagne. People I had come to know from Andre's circle were smiling at me and the ladies, which I never seemed to get along with, were looking at me with jealousy. Now all of it has ended with the appearance of a stranger in a hospital gown. Andre had just put the ring onto my finger. It still felt cold.

Now, all that was a distant memory. All I could see now was a strange woman that looked soaringly like me gasping for breath as paramedics lifted her limp body off the floor.

Why did she look like me?

What was going on?

Andre ran over to her as soon as she walked in and had not said a word to me since then. He kept pacing and nagging the EMTs while they checked her pulse, and kept murmuring her name… Diane. He had never looked at me like that. It almost seemed as though he was in love with this Diane.

Andre didn’t look at me.

Didn’t speak to me.

I doubt he remembered the ring he had just given me, or maybe he just didn't care anymore.

He followed her stretcher as they took it out of the room like he didn’t realize anyone else was there. Some of the party guests began to gossip. While some still appeared stunned, as they made space for the paramedics. I could hear their murmurings, loud and clear.

“She looks just like her…”

“Wait, is that…?”

“Who is she?”

“Did you see her face? She looks just like…”

“The one who collapsed is Diane, Andre's ex.”

“I always thought his new girlfriend looked like his ex.”

“Andre’s ex? I thought she was dead.”

I felt like I was suffocating.

When I sensed a hand on my elbow, I jumped in shock. It was Stanley, Andre’s butler.

“Apologies for alarming you Miss Rupert… but you appear quite pale. Would you like to take a seat?”

I shook my head, even though my knees were trembling.

Andre finally came back into the hall, he looked around for a second.

Then our eyes met.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, then seemed to think better of it.

He crossed the room instead and approached me.

“We’ll talk later,” he said, “Just… stay here. I’ll explain everything when I’m back.”

“When you’re back?” I repeated.

He nodded hurriedly. “I have to go with her. I need to.”

And before I could respond, before I could ask who she was or why she looked like me, he turned and followed the ambulance crew.

He was gone.

The rest of the night was very hard to remember.

Some people stood around awkwardly, unsure whether to leave or pretend the proposal had still happened. Some came to shake my hand, offered congratulations, but their eyes avoided mine.

It seemed everyone knew something and I didn't.

Finally, they all left.

Stanley and those who were hired for catering began to pack away the trays of dessert. Most of which were untouched.

They took away the unopened champagne bottles, and the candles.

The decorations suddenly looked ridiculous, like why had I gone overboard with it?

The room had gotten so silent by the time they were done packing up and everyone had gone home.

The clock read a few minutes to midnight as I started to walk into the shared room with Andre. I slipped off my shoes.

My feet were aching so bad, and so did my heart.

I stared at my phone on the coffee table. Still nothing from Andre. No missed calls. No texts.

I opened our chat and typed:

“Is everything okay? Please let me know what’s going on.”

Sent.

Seen.

No reply.

I typed again:

“Should I come to the hospital?”

I deleted it before I could send it.

What would I even say? I had no relationship with the patient. But the woman who collapsed, Diane, wasn't a stranger to him. That much was clear.

And even if she was a stranger to me, she had something I didn’t.

His full attention.

That night, sleep wouldn't come.

I changed out of the beautiful gown I had worn for the party, and began to wipe off the makeup. It was a very tedious task as my face had been layered and baked with so much makeup.

I stared blankly, as I was lost in thought as I stood before the mirror in the bathroom, observing my face.

I must have stood there for nearly thirty minutes just remembering the face of that lady.

I sat on the edge of our bed… his bed really, with my phone on my lap.

I dialed Andre's line six times. All unanswered.

The seventh went to voicemail.

“Hey, Andre. It’s me. I just… I dunno…” I cleared my throat and continued. “I just called to ask if you’re okay… If she’s okay. Call me back.”

I hung up.

When I finally collapsed into bed, but my mind wouldn't quiet down.

Was she really his ex?

Was she the reason he never said “I love you” to me? Did he still love her?

I stared at my ring finger.

I contemplated whether to take the ring off.

The next day at about noon, I heard Andre's car drive into the mansion.

I was sitting in the kitchen, still dressed in my pajamas. My coffee had gone cold beside me. I had slept on the couch, because I couldn't bear to sleep on Andre's bed for some reason, my neck felt stiff.

I waited for him in the hallway.

The doors opened.

Andre stepped out, carrying her.

She was being carried princess style, one arm limp, the other tucked into his jacket. Her head rested near his collarbone. Her hair had been washed. Her eyes were closed.

He carried her like she was an egg.

There was a nurse with him this time, a short older woman with a kit and a bag. She stepped out beside them and immediately adjusted the IV drip hanging from the portable stand. She gave Andre a nod as they moved toward the guest wing.

He didn’t look at me.

“Andre…”

“Not now,” he muttered, walking past me.

I followed him, walking barefoot, as my heart was beating so loud.

He carried her down the hall, toward the locked room. The same one he’d warned me never to touch.

He didn’t hesitate to go in now.

The nurse opened it with a key he handed her. Andre carried Diane in, like it belonged to her all along.

He laid her gently onto the prepared bed. Adjusted the pillow under her head.

Her face was pale. Her lips were barely pink.

She was beautiful, yet too familiar.

I didn't want them to see me, so I didn’t walk in or announce myself.

I noticed Andre was seated next to the bed and had gently pulled Diane’s hand towards him the most affectionate way.

The one with the IV line. He held it gently.

The nurse began to adjust the drip, and check on the lady's vitals. She nodded and said something to Andre. He nodded at her, looking like he had aged so much in just one day. The nurse wrote something onto a sheet, and then left the room quietly.

She noticed me at the door and gave me a polite smile.

But Andre stayed there.

He didn’t say anything.

He just looked at her.

The way I used to wish he would look at me.

I don’t know how long I stood there.

My legs began to hurt from standing. I walked away from the door slowly. I was so careful, so as not to make a sound.

There was a mirror in the hallway, I stopped for a second.

Just for a second.

I stared at my reflection, I didn't like my face anymore.