We are not going back

Chapter twenty-two

I could see the reporters from down the street. Their cameras flashed even though it was already dark, their lights spilling onto the sidewalk. My heart sank. The last thing I wanted was to face this- not tonight, not after dinner with Kamala. But there was no avoiding it. I forced myself to take slow, even breaths as I limped up the driveway on my crutches, the ache in my ankle a dull reminder of everything I’d been through.

As I neared the front door, it swung open, and there she was- Olivia. She looked perfect, of course. Her hair sleek, makeup flawless, dressed in one of her expensive blouses that screamed wealth and power. She smiled brightly at me, like nothing was wrong, like we hadn’t spent the last few days at each other’s throats.

“Eleonora,” she greeted, her voice warm as honey, as if we were the perfect couple everyone believed us to be. She stepped forward and pulled me into a hug, her arms tight around me. I stiffened.

Before I could say anything, Olivia pressed her lips to mine in a soft, practiced kiss, still smiling as if the cameras weren’t just watching, but we were living this moment for ourselves. But I could feel it- the hollowness. It was all so fake, like a scene we’d rehearsed too many times.

I forced myself to pull away gently, staring at her for a moment. My stomach twisted with the weight of what I was about to say, but I couldn’t keep living this lie. Not anymore.

“Olivia,” I started quietly, glancing past her into the house, then back at her face. “We need to talk.”

Her smile faltered slightly, just enough for me to notice, but she recovered quickly, guiding me inside and closing the door behind us. “Of course, darling,” she said, her voice still sugary. “Let’s sit down. You must be tired after today.”

I shook my head, refusing to let her steer me away from what I needed to say. “No. We need to talk now.”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, her posture still calm and composed, though I could see the tension in the set of her jaw. “Alright. What is it?”

I looked down at my crutches for a second, gathering the courage. “I want us to separate,” I said, my voice steady but soft. “Not a divorce. Just… I need space. I don’t want to sleep in the same room anymore, and I don’t want any… intimacy.”

The words hung between us like a weight, and I could see the flicker of surprise in her eyes before she quickly masked it. “Separate?” she repeated, her voice dangerously low. “And what would that look like, Eleonora?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, suddenly feeling exhausted. “We’ll keep up appearances. We’ll still act like everything’s fine in public, like we’re the perfect couple. I’ll support you when the cameras are on, but… behind closed doors, it’s different. I can’t keep pretending.”

Her smile returned, but this time it was icy, a facade to hide her frustration. “So you want to play house for the cameras, but not actually be my wife?” Her voice was sharp now, cutting through the tension like a knife. “How convenient.”

“This isn’t about convenience,” I said, keeping my voice as calm as I could manage. “I just… I need space, Olivia. I’m exhausted. And I can’t keep living this lie.”

She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And this has nothing to do with Kamala, does it?”

I froze for a second, caught off guard, but quickly recovered. “No, this isn’t about her. This is about us. About what we’ve become.”

Olivia stared at me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine for something. Finally, she laughed- a short, bitter sound that echoed in the quiet hallway. “Of course,” she said, shaking her head. “Of course you’d say that.”