“‘We’re dealing with something ourselves,’” Claire repeated. “How interesting. You just discussed a living woman as though you were talking about a burst pipe. Very romantic.”
She walked quietly toward the bedroom and closed the door behind her.
She did not slam it for effect.
She did not make a scene.
She simply shut it.
There was no point continuing the conversation. Her beloved husband and her closest friend had turned out to be partners in the same betrayal. The complete package, with nothing left to purchase.
Part Three. The Engagement That Ended at a Café Table
Andrew remained in the hallway for nearly twenty minutes, sitting motionless on the bench and replaying the evening over and over.
The whole thing had become absurd.
So absurd that he could not even summon proper anger. Instead, a fine, unpleasant trembling moved through him while an icy emptiness spread inside his chest.
His phone vibrated again.
It was Jason.
“So, buddy?” his friend asked cheerfully. “Did you sort out your little problem with your wife and your mistress?”
Andrew knew there was no point hiding anything anymore.
“No,” he answered bleakly. “Claire knows. She’s in the bedroom and refuses to speak to me.”
“And how is the other member of this circus?”
“She accidentally heard the entire conversation. I had no idea the call was still connected.”
“Wait. What mistress are you talking about? At least tell me her name.”
“Sophie.”
A heavy silence settled over the line.
“Which Sophie?” Jason asked at last, very quietly.
“Just Sophie. Claire’s best friend.”
Andrew had no idea what catastrophe he had just set in motion.
At that very moment, Jason was sitting in a café. Sophie was across the small table from him, deathly pale, her phone clenched in both hands. She had heard a large part of the call clearly.
Only a week earlier, Jason had asked her to marry him.
She had accepted with joy.
They had already begun planning the wedding, discussing the ceremony, joking about the guest list, and comparing possible dates.
Now everything was collapsing in front of him.
“Jason…” Sophie tried to speak, but her voice shook. “Jason, please listen. I ended it. We broke up. I swear, it was over before—”
“So you broke up,” he repeated slowly. “Sophie, all this time you were seeing me. We kissed, spent evenings together, and you told me you loved me. At the same time, you were still sleeping with another man.”
“I was going to tell you!”
“When? On our wedding day? While the officiant was asking whether you agreed to become my wife?”
“Please don’t say it like that!”
Jason rose without a word.
He took out enough cash to cover the bill and placed it on the table. Then he looked down at her. There was no shouting, no tantrum—only a terrible calm.
“There will be no wedding.”
Part Four. The Scandalous Performance on the Eighth Floor
About an hour later, someone began pounding on Claire’s apartment door.
Andrew went to open it and instinctively stepped backward.
Sophie stood in the hallway.
“You’re the last person I wanted to see tonight,” he breathed tiredly.
She had no intention of discussing her arrival with him. She pushed past him and marched straight toward the bedroom.
“Claire! Come out right now!” she shouted. “Jason left me because of you! Do you understand? We were going to get married! Our wedding was planned! You ruined everything on purpose!”
Her voice rang through the apartment, rising almost to a shriek.
Claire came out of the bedroom, calmly adjusted the sleeve of her sweater, and regarded her former friend with genuine curiosity.
“Sophie, let me repeat your complaint to make sure I understand it correctly. You’ve been sleeping with my husband for six months, deceiving your own fiancé, and somehow I’m the villain here. You have astonishing mathematical skills.”
“You destroyed my happiness!”
“No, darling. Your happiness was destroyed by the schedule of your own secret affairs.”
“I’m twenty-nine years old! Do you understand what that means?”
“A wonderful age to finally become acquainted with the simple word ‘no.’ It has only two letters, but it prevents an impressive amount of misery.”
Andrew tried to intervene. He stepped toward Sophie, waving his hands in irritation as if he were trying to clear smoke from the air.
“Sophie, stop this performance! Get out! Whatever existed between us is over! And you lied to me too! You agreed to marry Jason while hiding it from me, and I trusted you like the biggest fool alive!”
“You trusted me?” Sophie spun around. “You promised you would leave Claire! How many times did you say you were going to divorce her?”
“I never promised that!”
“You did! Almost every time we met!”
Claire leaned against the wall and slowly clapped three times.
“Bravo. Truly marvelous theater. Now, my dear performers, please leave my apartment. This is not a television studio where two dishonest people compete to prove which one of them is more honest.”
At that moment, the doorbell rang again.