Alex - POV
The night air outside the hall was cooler, quieter. The noise of the party faded behind us, but the tension around her didn't.
She stepped away from me almost immediately, brushing her dress as if she could erase the last few minutes.
"Thank you," she said softly, almost reluctantly, before lifting her chin as if to steady herself. "Why did you say I was your wife?" Her voice was tight, controlled.
"Because it worked," I replied.
She opened her mouth like she wanted to argue, then stopped. "You didn't have to go that far. I didn't need that kind of protection," she said a little too quickly.
It wasn't confidence. It was her trying to be strong.
Her eyes kept moving over my shoulder, toward the entrance, down the driveway checking, searching, making sure no one had followed us. Fear doesn't leave that quickly.
She turned to walk away too fast, her heel catching slightly against the pavement. Her balance slipped.
I caught her before she could fall. "Careful."
"I'm fine," she said quickly, trying to pull away.
That was when I saw it, the bruise already forming at the back of her heel where the strap had cut into her skin.
"You're not."
"I am."
She tried to step again and winced before she could hide it. That was enough. I guided her toward the low stone edge beside the walkway and sat her down despite the quiet protest in her voice.
"It's nothing," she insisted, embarrassment creeping in. "Really, I can..."
I crouched in front of her and slipped the heel off gently. Her breath caught, startled more than resistant.
"Stay still."
She tried to pull her foot back. I stopped her lightly, my hand steady around her ankle firm enough to keep her from walking away, careful enough not to frighten her.
Up close, the bruise wasn't the only thing I noticed. Her eyes were too bright. Too full.
"You're about to cry," I said quietly.
"I am not."
Her voice betrayed her. She looked away, swallowing hard, shoulders tightening like she was trying to hold herself together by force.
"I'm fine," she repeated, softer this time.
I adjusted her foot slightly, easing the pressure point. "I know we just met," I said, my voice low, controlled, "but you don't have to pretend you're fine. If you need to cry, you can. I'll cover you."
For a moment she stayed still, breathing too carefully, fighting it. Then the first small sound escaped her. Quiet, almost embarrassed. Another followed. And just like that, whatever strength she had been holding onto gave way.
She bent forward, head dropping to her knees as the tears finally came, her shoulders shaking while she tried to keep the sound contained.
I took off my suit jacket and placed it gently over her shoulders, shielding her from the lights, from the people passing by, from anyone who might look too closely. Then I stepped back half a pace and stayed there. Silent, steady, letting her have the space to fall apart without being alone.
After a moment, her hand rose, clutching the edge of the jacket around herself. She didn't look at me, but she spoke softly, voice rough.
"Thank you."
Grateful.
But distant.
Like someone who had accepted help for the moment, only for the moment and already planned to walk away the second she could stand again.
I watched her for a moment, unsure if leaving her alone would be a mistake. Every instinct I had said it would be.
She slowly wiped her face, trying to regain control, then pushed her palms against the bench as if preparing to stand.
"Wait," I said before I could stop myself.
She paused and looked at me.
I cleared my throat, suddenly aware of how ridiculous I might sound. "Don't leave, I mean… you probably shouldn't be alone right now."
She gave a faint, tired smile. "I'll be fine."
"Or…" I rubbed the back of my neck, searching for something normal to say. "We could get ice cream. Or take a walk. Or… something. Anything, really."
One brow lifted slightly. "Ice cream? Right now?"
"I know. Terrible suggestion right?" I shrugged. "But it's the best I have at the moment."
For a second she just stared at me, as if trying to understand why I was still there.
"Why are you being nice to me?" she finally asked.
I watched her for a moment, then gave a small shrug.
"Because you're my wife, remember?" I said lightly, a teasing smile slipping out.
She let out a soft, unexpected laugh, like she hadn't planned to. For a second, the wall around her dropped, and I realized I was still looking at her a little too long.
I cleared my throat. "You're lucky," I said quietly. "I'm not nice to everyone."
She tilted her head slightly, a faint sarcastic smile touching her lips.
"I'm honored."
The tension between us eased just a little.
"Okay," she said after a beat. "Ice cream."
I nodded, then glanced down at her feet. "Can you actually walk in those heels with that bruise?"
"I can manage," she replied quickly, though the slight shift of her weight said otherwise.
Without another word, I bent down and slipped the shoes off her feet.
Her eyes widened. "That's embarrassing. And weird. I can't just walk barefoot."
I straightened, already stepping out of my own shoes. "There," I said, placing them aside. "Now we're both weird."
She stared at me for a second, then shook her head, but the small smile she tried to hide was still there.
We started down the street together, not close enough to touch, but not far enough to feel like strangers anymore. The night air was cooler now, carrying the distant hum of traffic and the glow of late-evening streetlights stretching ahead of us. Neither of us noticed the figure across the road.
Hidden in the shadows, a phone lifted slowly to someone's ear.
"He's leaving, ma'am," the voice murmured. "And he's not alone.... he's with a woman..."