The Honeymoon Wasn’t Ours Anymore
Lena had unpacked her clothes in the suite next door before lunch.
She behaved as though her arrival were the most natural thing in the world.
She hugged Ethan.
She complimented the resort.
She asked about our plans.
Then she looked at me.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We won’t interfere.”
I almost laughed.
By breakfast the next morning, she was already sitting beside Ethan.
She reached across the table and straightened his collar.
“Marriage takes practice,” she said pleasantly. “My son has always needed a certain kind of woman.”
I looked at Ethan.
He avoided my eyes.
“Mom means well,” he whispered.
“Does she?”
“Avery, please.”
That was becoming his favorite phrase.
Please don’t react.
Please don’t embarrass me.
Please be patient.
Please swallow it.
So I swallowed it.
The following afternoon, Lena joined us by the pool.
She adjusted her sunglasses and studied me.
Then she smiled.
“You know, Ethan doesn’t really like pale skin.”
I felt heat rush into my face.
“He told me that when you two started dating.”
I looked toward my husband.
He was reading something on his phone.
“Ethan?”
He looked up.
“Mom…”
“What?” Lena laughed. “I’m only telling the truth.”
I waited for him to defend me.
He didn’t.
He simply said, “Let’s not start anything.”
Something inside me cracked a little.
I turned away.
A few minutes later, Richard walked past.
Ethan’s father had barely spoken since we arrived.
He stopped beside my chair.
Without saying anything, he placed a cold glass of water on the table.
Then he walked away.
I watched the condensation slide down the glass.
It was a tiny gesture.
But somehow, it felt enormous.
That evening, I noticed another thing.
Richard watched Lena whenever she spoke.
Not with affection.
With recognition.
As though he had seen this version of her many times before.
And suddenly, I wondered how long he had been watching.
