Whatever was happening between Chester and me, there was no reason to take it out on old friends.
But when I stepped into the private dining room and saw Glenda Fox—who was supposed to still be overseas—I wished I hadn't come.
She was glowing. Every inch of her polished by her years abroad.
And me? Years of running the company, night after sleepless night, and a miscarriage still fresh in my body—I caught my reflection in the window and barely recognized the sallow face staring back.
Classmates crowded around her, falling over themselves to flatter, and right beside her sat my husband, Chester Delgado.
I looked at the scene and felt nothing. No sting, no twist in my chest—just a bone-deep certainty that it was finally, irreversibly over.
If Glenda Fox hadn't gone abroad back then, Chester would never have chosen me, the girl trailing behind him.
Twenty-odd years of childhood-sweetheart history. I was never going to compete with that.
Once I'd made peace with it, I could face this reunion with something close to calm.
I picked up a glass of wine and raised it toward Glenda.
"Welcome home."
She looked caught off guard, but smiled and lifted her glass in return.
Just as Glenda was about to drink, Chester stopped her.
"Glenda, you just got over a cold. Let me drink it for you."
The room went silent.
Glenda didn't refuse. She smiled and said okay.
After Chester finished the glass, she tilted her head and looked at me.
"Georgina, don't take it the wrong way. Chester's just looking out for me. He doesn't mean anything by it."
I laughed softly, then splashed the wine in my hand straight into Chester's face.
"Oh? So you can talk now."
Wine slid down his cheeks and dripped onto his expensive shirt, blooming into a dark stain.
Every eye in the room locked on me, bright with the ugly thrill of someone else's wreckage.
Chester stared at me in disbelief.
A long silence. Then he dropped his voice and snarled:
"Georgina, have you lost your mind?"
I smashed the empty glass on the floor. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? You're the one who's been faking it."
Chester swallowed hard, guilt written all over his face.
"You couldn't speak. Three years you couldn't speak. Not a single word. But you see Glenda Fox and suddenly you're cured?"
"Or is it just selective? Mute around me, perfectly fine around her?"
"Nothing to say to me—ever. But for Glenda, you can sing love songs and jump in to take her drink?"