Lights off. Move quietly.
Even her kisses never went past the surface.
Once, clumsy and trying to copy the things people online did to please a lover, I held her late at night, my face hot, hinting that we could let go a little that night.
Cicely only frowned and lifted my hand away.
"Gilbert, your health is fragile."
"I'm afraid of hurting you."
I used to think that was tenderness. That she loved me too much to ever lose control.
It wasn't.
She'd simply taken every reckless, blazing, unrestrained ounce of desire she had.
And given all of it to Connor.
I laughed, suddenly.
And laughing, the tears struck the screen.
Not long after, the doctor pushed open the door.
"Mr. Winfield, the fertility process has been suspended."
"For the destruction paperwork, we'll need you to come in and sign at nine o'clock three mornings from now."
When I left the hospital, my assistant messaged me: the charity gala held under my name was about to begin tonight.
I hurried to the venue. Passing the VIP lounge, I heard familiar voices inside.
Someone was laughing, egging her on.
"Ms. Sanchez, what made you finally willing to bring your husband back to the Capital this time?"
"Aren't you afraid Gilbert will find out?"
My steps stopped at the door. Through the crack, I looked in.
Cicely had her arm around Connor's shoulders, smiling.
"Gilbert couldn't dream up the idea that I'd cheat on him."
Someone asked again.
"So what exactly are you and Connor, then?"
"The boy's already five. You can't keep him with no name, no standing, forever."
Connor lowered his head, the rims of his eyes faintly red.
Cicely glanced at him, and her voice softened.
"That's why I plan to hold a wedding for Connor."
There was water shining in Connor's eyes, like a grievance held in for years.
Cicely took his hand.
"The title's already gone to Gilbert."
"Everyone in elite high society knows him as the Sanchez family's Mr. Winfield."
"As for the marriage license and the wedding, those go to Connor."
She paused, as if laying out the fairest arrangement imaginable.
"This way it's better for both of them."
Connor leaned into her arms, his voice soft.
"Cicely, I don't want to hurt Gilbert."
"Maybe we should forget the wedding after all."
Cicely bowed her head and kissed his cheek.
"You waited five years for me. This is what I owe you."
Someone in the lounge laughed and smoothed it over.
"Ms. Sanchez, that arrangement's pretty ruthless."
"One's the Mr. Winfield everyone sees, and one's the real husband at the foot of the snowy mountains."
Cicely only smiled.
"I'll still be at Gilbert's side from now on."
"His health is poor, and he leans on me for everything emotionally."
"Twelve months a year, I'll spare just one for Connor and the boy."
"The other eleven, I'll be right there with him."
"He'll never find out I gave Connor a child."
The instant those words landed, I laughed.
I never doubted a person's true heart, until this moment, when it dawned on me: a true heart can turn in the blink of an eye.
The Cicely who once loved me enough to take a knife for me, willingly.
In this moment, drove the cruelest blade of all into me with her own hand.
I couldn't listen anymore.
Something clogged my chest, an ache so sour that even breathing hurt.
I didn't push open that lounge door.
I just braced myself against the wall and left the gala, one step at a time.
Back home, I started packing away the things Cicely had given me.
The cashmere scarf, from our first year together.
The little wooden horse ornament, from our third.
And that string of prayer beads, the first she ever brought back from the snowy mountains.
She'd said: "Gilbert, I asked the gods to keep you safe."
