Crossing the line

Speak of the devil

Tristan's skin, golden from the sun, had paled two notches as he levelled his wife with a harsh stare. The muscles of his forearms flexed when tightened his fists, revealed by the simple t-shirt Frances had bought him last month. A beautiful man, whose anger radiated off in such strong waves that she felt them crash into her. Impressive, and frightening at once.

Lise's shoulders slumped under such duress, and Frances found that her hands shook.

— "What are you doing here ?", he ground, his voice distorted by the clenching of his jaw.

His ex-wife's body language changed at once, her chest puffing out as she turned to the man she had lost.

— "I brought you the final papers for the divorce"

A dangerous gleam passed in Tristan's eyes.

— "Because you couldn't post them ?"

Lise hesitated, extracting the papers from her bag clumsily.

— "I... can I talk to you for a second, just you and me ?"

— "No."

Cased closed. Frances had never heard such finality in Tristan's voice before.

— "We've talked enough.", he added, then his gaze flicked to Frances. "Whatever you have to say can be said here"

Lise pursed her lips unhappily, sending a glare to Frances before her baby blue eyes returned to Tristan pleadingly.

— "Give me another chance, Tristan. Give us another chance, this is such a waste ! Our love isn't dead, we can still repair it. I've started to see a psychologist, I'm sure we can mend the gap."

Frances' breath caught; the mere possibility of him walking away from hurt like a stab in her stomach. But Tristan was shaking his head already, his shoulders slumping from guilt.

— "I'm sorry, Lise. I have moved on. I wouldn't have if there was anything to save."

His words sent joy in Frances' heart. Of course, they had discussed his past relationship at length, but to hear it firsthand felt like a liberation.

— "She can't love you like I did, Tristan !", Lise screeched, pointing her finger like a kid.

— "Leave Frances out of this. Our marriage is over. Give me the papers."

Orders. Clean, and imposing. She had to give Lise some credit; it was difficult to resist him when he exuded such presence. But she had her neck on the line; this was her last shot. Desperate enough ? Frances was really grateful no one was armed, this might have ended in a bloodbath.

— "Tristan !", Lise pleaded. "She's too young, she'll leave you as soon as your back is turned. Don't you see she's using you ?"

Enough was enough. Frances circled the kitchen high table, and strode to Tristan's side to glare at the blonde woman.

— "Madam, you have insulted me enough, do not presume to speak in my name."

— "I'm not talking to you", she snarled, her lips curling like a she-wolf.

Tristan intervened before Lise could make more damage, grabbing her elbow none too gently.

— "Enough, Lise ! Enough", he pleaded, his tone upset. "Give me those fucking papers, and get out of my life."

— "But..."

Tristan shook her arm, fighting to keep his calm.

— "Get out, please. Go back home, sell the house, do whatever you want; I don't care. Just set me free. There's nothing to save."