She keeps going. “This is a very visual event,” she says. “Elegant. Clean. Refined. And then there’s…” Her eyes move over me again. “This.”
The silence around us gets heavier.
Ethan slips one hand into his pocket. “Sienna was never very good at reading a room.”
I feel heat crawl up my neck.
Camille says, “No, I think she reads it just fine. She just doesn’t fit in it.”
Ethan tilts his head at me. “You’re still doing the same thing, huh?”
I swallow. “What thing?”
“Hanging around places you don’t belong.” His eyes drag down my body. “Taking up too much space. Pretending people aren’t noticing.”
My fingers are hurting now from how hard I’m holding the binder.
Camille gives a light little laugh. “God, Ethan.”
He smiles. “What? We’re all thinking it.”
Camille looks right at me and says, “You really should have worn black. It’s more forgiving when you’re this fat.”
Ethan looks almost pleased. “Camille.”
She lifts one shoulder. “Don’t act offended now. You said the same thing.”
He doesn’t deny it. Of course he doesn’t.
I can feel every inch of my body all at once. My stomach. My hips. My arms. My face. The coat hanging open over my dress.The awful, helpless feeling of standing there while people look at me and see exactly what they’ve decided I am.
I’m on the verge of tears. I can feel it, that awful pressure building behind my eyes, the sting in my throat, the humiliating certainty that if I say one word right now, my voice will crack in front of everyone in this room.
Camille is still staring at me like I’ve ruined something sacred.
Ethan is smiling. Actually smiling, like this is entertaining. Like I’m entertaining.
Around us, the room has gone into that awful hush people fall into when they’re pretending not to watch someone be humiliated.
I tighten my grip on the binder so hard the corners bite into my palm.
Just stand there. Just get through it. Just don’t cry.
Camille glances at the place card again. “Honestly, the whole thing feels ridiculous.”
Ethan looks me over one last time and says, “Desperation always does.”
And that’s when a man’s voice cuts through the room behind me.
“That’s enough.”
Not loud.
It doesn’t have to be. The whole room stills anyway.
Something in his tone does it. Cold. Absolute. The kind of voice that doesn’t ask for silence, just takes it.
My breath catches.