Part 1: The Dress That Wasn’t Good Enough
“You’ll only embarrass me wearing that dress.”
I heard my husband say those words from the second floor while I stood frozen in front of the mirror, my hands icy cold.
Damon Reeve had just stepped out of his black SUV at our house in Sewickley Heights, looking flawless in his gray suit, as though he were on his way to accept an award instead of breaking my heart for the last time. Mrs. Odell, our longtime housekeeper, carefully asked if I would be coming downstairs.
He didn’t even bother looking toward my window.
“There’s no need. I’m going with Sabine tonight.”
I gripped the curtain until my nails dug into my palms.
I was wearing the only evening gown I still owned, a navy-blue dress I had bought before I married Damon. The sleeves were beginning to show wear. In three years I had never asked him for money, never used my family name, never boasted about who my father was. I believed humility would make him love me. I believed that if I made myself smaller, he would finally see me.
How foolish I was.
A moment later, I heard heels clicking across the marble floor.
Sabine Miller appeared on my husband’s arm, wearing a champagne-colored gown and a diamond necklace that sparkled like a cruel joke. She leaned against him with a sweet, practiced smile.
“Do I look beautiful, Damon?”
He looked at her in a way he had never looked at me.
“You’re perfect.”
I walked downstairs slowly.
The moment Damon saw me, he frowned as though I were a stain on his expensive floor. Sabine looked me up and down, letting her eyes linger on the worn sleeves of my dress.
“Oh, so you’re the wife,” she laughed, covering her mouth. “Now I understand why he never takes you anywhere.”
Damon didn’t correct her.
His silence hurt more than a slap.
“The Meridian Group annual gala is far too important,” Sabine continued. “There will be CEOs, politicians, international investors… real people. You should stay home, Aurelia. Looking like that, you’d only ruin Damon’s evening.”
I looked at my husband, waiting for a single word.
Just one.
Instead, he offered his arm to her. “Let’s go. We’re running late.”
I watched them leave together. The sound of the engine faded into the night.
Mrs. Odell approached me, eyes full of sympathy. “Ma’am… would you like me to make you something to eat?”
“I’m not hungry.”
