Beneath Her Smile

7.

The evening was still, a thick quiet settling over the apartment as if holding its breath. Vivienne and Noah sat together on the couch, an image of tranquility fractured by the tension hovering between them. For months, Noah had sensed something elusive in Vivienne—a guardedness, a barrier she kept resolutely in place, something she held close but never shared. He had dismissed it as his own anxiety, residue from the lingering grief over Celine's death. But lately, the feeling had grown, stretching and distorting until it became impossible to ignore.

Vivienne's hands fidgeted in her lap as she avoided his gaze. She had a charm she usually wore with ease, but tonight, that poise cracked, and a nervous energy radiated from her. It wasn't something Noah had ever seen in her before, and the look unsettled him.

"Vivienne, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice gentle but filled with concern. He shifted closer, studying her expression.

She swallowed, her gaze flicking up to meet his, her eyes clouded with fear and something else—something that twisted his stomach. For a brief moment, she seemed on the verge of tears, and he instinctively reached out, taking her hand in his, reassuring her with his steady warmth.

"I can't... keep this from you anymore, Noah." Her voice was barely audible, trembling with a vulnerability he'd never heard before.
"What do you mean?" he asked, brows knitting in confusion. A twinge of worry clawed at him. She was so rarely like this—caught off guard, fragile. Her fingers trembled within his, and she took a steadying breath.

"There's something I need to tell you," she said, her voice wavering as though each word cost her more than she could spare. "About Celine..."

The name struck him like an unexpected blow, rattling his calm. He hadn't expected this. Not tonight. Not after three years of tentative peace. His mind raced to keep up."What... about Celine?" he asked, his tone edged with caution. His hand tightened instinctively in hers, a hundred unspoken questions surfacing as he looked at her.

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke him. She drew her hand from his, clasping her fingers together as if they alone could keep her anchored. Then, with a quiet voice that barely registered above the hum of the apartment, she whispered, "She didn't... die by accident."

The world tilted, the air constricting around him. Her words struck like an icy wind, biting and surreal. "Vivienne, what are you saying?"

She took a shaky breath, averting her gaze. "I was the one who... I gave her the pills, Noah. I knew what they'd do. And I... I gave them to her."

The room spun. He pulled his hand away, stumbling back as the confession registered, hitting him with an intensity he hadn't known was possible. The woman he had trusted, leaned on, had caused Celine's death. The betrayal stung sharper than he could have imagined.

"You... you're saying you killed her?" His voice was barely above a whisper, trembling with shock.

Tears glistened in her eyes, but her face held steady, showing that strength he had once admired. "I didn't plan it like that. I didn't want her to suffer, Noah. I just... I needed you." Her voice cracked. "I thought if she was gone... I could be there for you. That you'd eventually fall in love with me."

A sickening wave of disbelief washed over him, a hollow rage swelling. He stumbled back further, pressing his hands to his temples. "Because you needed me?" he asked, his voice a rasp. "So you just... got rid of her?"

"Noah, it's not like that." Her tone softened, and she reached out to him, desperate to explain.

"You have to understand, I loved you, I still love you. I was desperate. I knew we could be perfect together, if only..."