Chapter 6: You, or Everyone knows

The doorknob turned, one slow, scraping click,  and my entire body went numb. Harrison was off the bed before I could think, crossing the room in three silent strides and pressing himself flat against the wall beside the curtain, with no panic on his face, just stillness.

I yanked the duvet to my chin, smoothed my expression into something resembling interrupted sleep, and waited.

“Come in,” I said.

My mom eased through the door in her champagne-coloured robe, her hair was packed into a messy bun and her face was soft in the low lamplight, beautiful in the quiet way she only was when her guard was down.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” she said, her eyes moved around the room, and something in her shoulders softened. “I saw your light on, so I thought maybe you couldn’t sleep either.”

“Just reading.” I held up my phone as proof, the screen was black, but she didn’t notice.

She crossed to the bed and sat on the edge, the exact spot Harrison had been sitting a few minutes ago. The mattress was still warm from him, but I kept my eyes locked on her face, like my life depended on it.

She smelled like gardenias, she’d worn that same perfume my entire childhood, but tonight it smelled different.

“I found something on Harrison’s phone earlier,” she said quietly, her hands folded in her lap. “An escort booking, before the wedding.”

“He told me it was stress relief, that it was nothing.” She wasn’t looking at me, but at her hands, her voice careful and measured in the way it got when she was holding her emotions. “I believed him, because men do foolish things when they’re nervous. ” She exhaled, “I just needed to get it off my chest.”

“Mom,” My voice cracked on the single syllable.

“I’m not naive, Ivana,” She looked up, and her eyes were dry, sharp and so painfully clear that I could not look away. “I know this marriage isn’t some fairytale romance, but Harrison is steady and kind, and he chose us.” She reached over and squeezed my hand. “That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

I squeezed back, but deep down I didn’t trust a single word.

On the other side of the room, behind the curtain, Harrison was completely still. Listening to his wife tell her daughter he was a good man, and I was sitting here holding her hand, nodding, while the memory of his hands on my skin sat in my chest like a coal that wouldn’t go cold.

“I just want you to feel like you have a home here,” Mom continued, smoothing the duvet over my knees, the same way she would tuck me in when I was small. “Harrison already said he wants to get to know you better and be there for you.” She smiled. “A real family,  just the three of us.”

I smiled faintly back at her.

We talked for what felt like hours: my heartbreak, my dead-end job, her excitement for her honeymoon, with each topic stretching, the silence became thinner and thinner. Every minute she stayed, the room felt smaller, as I waited for him to mistakenly move, for the disaster to finally happen, but he stayed completely silent.

She finally kissed my forehead goodbye, stood, and moved to the door, her robe whispering against the floor. 

“Get some sleep,” she said, as the door clicked shut.

 I sat there, the echo of her voice was still warm in the room.

Then the curtain shifted, Harrison stepped out, the composed version of himself he’d worn a few minutes ago was gone, his jaw was tight, the lines around his eyes were deeper. He looked like a man who had just heard his own verdict read aloud in a language he understood perfectly, and was standing very still, deciding what it meant.

“She deserves better than this,” I said, he didn’t answer. He walked across the room and stood over me, close enough that I could see the tension carved into every line of his face. 

“That was so fucking close,” he rasped, his voice rough with emotion.

I scrambled back. “Leave please, what if she returns?”

Instead, he sat down, knee brushing mine through the duvet, sending sparks I hated. “She trusts too easily,” his thumb stroking my knee possessively. But after hearing her, what we did…. A bitter laugh escaped his lips, “ It’s fucked up I know, but I still want you more than I should Ivana.

Anger flared hot in me as I shoved his hand away. “This isn’t a game! She poured her heart out, believing in you, and you are here acting like I’m yours to claim.

Regret deepened the lines around his eyes, he stood, pacing to the window, shoulders rigid. “You’re right, let's end this.” His voice was low, pained, but his fists stayed clenched.

I searched his face for a lie, but none. 

 The air crackled, “Then leave please.”

He reached the door when his phone buzzed, and he checked it, the security camera showing a car. He showed me the grainy image, my blood ran cold. I knew the plate number was that of Mark’s BMW

That's Mark’s car. “He’s been texting, but I've been ignoring them.” Fear and leftover rage mixed in my voice.

Something shifted in his face, softness gone, replaced by something cold and decided. He dialed the security code, his voice clipped and commanding; the headlights soon swept away as the car left.

 “You didn’t have to,” I whispered, gratitude warring with confusion.

“I know.” He looked at me unguarded, “But I did.” He left with that soft click, leaving me staring at the ceiling, heart pounding. as he carried our sins back to her bed.

My phone lit up with an unknown number, but the text chilled me deeper.

Marcus has been watching me. The betrayal hit so hard, I screenshotted it, fingers shaking with fury and fear, as I typed back: “What do you want?”

Three dots appeared, “ You or everyone knows.