That night, after the guests had left, I sat on the edge of the bed at Adrian's family's house. My hands trembled beneath the folds of my wedding dress.
I didn't feel like a newlywed wife.
I felt like a terrified child.
Adrian remained by the window for several minutes before turning towards me.
—Clara —he asked in a low voice—, is there something you should have told me before today?
I felt my throat close up.
There were things I wanted to tell her. Things I'd been forced to bury for years.
But I had been warned never to speak of them. My family had taught me that what had happened to me was shameful and that telling the truth would destroy everyone around me.
So I looked down.
Evening makeup
"No," I whispered.
The next morning, I woke up in complete silence.
Adrian's side of the bed was empty.
At first I thought he had gone out. I waited for him to return, but the minutes turned into hours.
Then the bedroom door opened.
Margaret was there, dressed in dark clothing, with a cold expression and cruel satisfaction in her eyes.
"Where is Adrian?" I asked.
-He went away.
I felt my heart stop.
-Because?
He approached and lowered his voice.
