The Cold Indifference

CLARA'S POV.

“Hello… I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself to you properly,” the sweet voice rings out, cutting straight through the biting winter chill.

I turn to see the stunning blonde woman stepping into the freezing air, the heavy restaurant door clicking shut behind her.

“I’m Camilla, a family friend of the Prescotts. It’s nice to officially meet Roman’s wife.” She steps closer, completely unaffected by the cold, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. “I must say, he really did well for himself. You’re a very beautiful woman.”

Her surprisingly pleasant and utterly polite tone completely takes me aback. My defensive instincts, which had been coiled tight just moments ago, are thrown into sudden disarray.

“Oh, um, well, thanks,” I stammer out awkwardly, wrapping my thin coat tighter around my trembling frame.

“It’s the truth,” she replies brightly, offering a dazzling smile. “That aside, I have a feeling that you and I are going to be very good friends.”

My chest tightens painfully. Acting strictly on pure, painful impulse, my mouth moves faster than my brain. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid that isn't going to happen,” I rapidly divulge, the words spilling out recklessly in the crisp night air. “Roman served me divorce papers this very evening, and he is completely hell-bent on making sure I sign them. So, I’ll be gone soon enough.”

As soon as the devastating truth leaves my lips, I want to snatch it back. Why on earth am I confiding my shattered reality to a complete stranger?

Upon hearing this revelation, Camilla manages to look thoroughly shell-shocked. Her perfectly painted lips part in surprise, but my hyper-aware eyes catch something else entirely. A very fleeting, highly suspicious flash of pure, unadulterated happiness quickly crosses her flawless face. It is a terrifying glimpse of triumph that vanishes completely before she can even formulate a verbal reply to my confession.

Before the tense silence can stretch any further, the heavy restaurant door swings open once again. Golden light spills onto the pavement as Roman emerges into the cold, his handsome face etched with genuine worry.

He immediately zeroes in on her, completely ignoring my physical presence. “Camilla, you shouldn’t wander off like that when we have dinner with the clients,” he chides her gently, his brow furrowed in deep concern. “It’s not a good look.”

“You’re right, and I’m sorry,” Camilla smoothly claims, stepping slightly closer to him. “I just wanted to step outside to ensure your wife was completely alright.”

Her tone is now dripping heavily with quiet, unmistakable condescension. She emphasizes the words *your wife* as if it is some pitiful, temporary affliction.

Yet Roman continues to dismiss my physical presence entirely. He talks directly over my head as if I am utterly invisible. “There is no need for that. She’s a grown woman and she can look after herself,” he says dismissively, his dark eyes darting between us. I can practically see the gears turning in his head, silently wondering what transpired before he rushed out here.

“I’m standing right here,” I snap, my voice trembling with indignation. “You don’t have to talk over my head as though I’m a child.”

He doesn't even spare me a glance. Instead, he turns his full attention back to the blonde, telling her in an incredibly soft, caring voice, “Camilla, go back to the table first and take care of the other guests. I will be back soon.”

The stark contrast hits me like a physical blow to the sternum. In all our three years of marriage, he has never once spoken to me with such profound gentleness. Never once has he looked at me as if I were something precious that needed protecting.

With an air of absolute seeming politeness, Camilla delicately touches his strong arm. “Okay, Roman,” she murmurs softly, her eyes locked intensely on his. She physically turns around to leave the cold outdoors, giving me a brief, polite nod.

But right before she steps back inside the warm restaurant, perfectly positioned completely out of Roman’s line of sight, she slowly turns her head. Her sweet facade drops instantly. She explicitly sneers at me with deep, chilling malice.

I knew it immediately! Her initial sugary sweetness was absolutely nothing but a calculated act, a performance put on to mock me.

The heavy door shuts, leaving an incredibly thick, uncomfortable silence descending heavily between Roman and me. The biting wind howls, but the frost radiating from my husband is far colder. Unable to endure the suffocating tension a second longer, I choose to confront him head-on.

“Who exactly is that woman to you, and why was she hanging all over you in plain sight?” I demand, my fists clenching at my sides.

He carelessly brushes off my highly valid question, his expression hardening into stone. “She is a business partner. I did tell you that I was going to sign an important deal tonight, didn’t I? Well, the deal is signed, and we’ve come to celebrate with dinner. The other partners will join us in a bit.” His voice suddenly turns ice-cold. “Now, I hope you’ve signed the divorce papers I asked you to sign.”

“I don't believe for one second that a mere business partner would physically attach herself to you in the intimate way she did,” I fiercely argue back, my chest heaving. “And you wouldn't be all over her like that either. Does what I think matter to you at all?”

“Not in the least,” he replies with brutal honesty, his dark eyes void of any warmth. He then has the sheer audacity to sigh, looking at me with pure disdain. “Maybe try and act like a classy woman for tonight and refrain from creating silly and meaningless scenarios entirely in your head. Do you think you can do that for just one night?”

Boiling tears of pure betrayal rapidly spill down my flushed face, the salty drops stinging against the winter wind. “Oh, you mean a classy woman exactly like your dear ex, whom you are still so clearly and deeply in love with?” I ask him sarcastically, my voice laced with venom. “Whom you're trying to pass off as a business acquaintance? Are you merely hoping that I will blindly sign the papers before I have a chance to figure out who she truly is, just so you can comfortably continue your sordid affair?”

Roman looks utterly bored and profoundly nonchalant in the face of my severe emotional distress. His total apathy pisses me off even more, but he isn't finished. He brutally twists the metaphorical knife deeper.

“Yes,” he coldly affirms my statement, stepping slightly closer to deliver the final blow. “Try to be a classy lady exactly like Camilla instead of constantly acting like an illiterate commoner. Did you not see how she carried and comported herself? Is that simply too much to ask of you?”

The insult rips the breath from my lungs. My voice quavers with intense, agonizing pain as I stare at the man I vowed to love. “Yes, it is too much to ask. Do you even know just how humiliating it is for me as your wife when the general public sees your ex-girlfriend hanging all over you? Especially when you absolutely never display such affection towards me?”

Instead of offering even a microscopic shred of comfort, he overtly scoffs at my visible distress. “Great. You’re going to embarrass me here in front of all these people. Why am I not surprised? It’s sort of your thing.”

“Oh, so now I am simply an embarrassment to you?” I challenge, my vision blurring with fresh tears.

“Yes, you are,” he replies affirmatively, without a single second of hesitation. “You are a very big embarrassment, and you always have been. I openly wish that you would act your age instead of throwing a tantrum exactly like a toddler over trivial things.”

His profoundly patronizing tone instantly sparks a highly unaccustomed, burning hatred that courses violently through my icy veins. The sheer cruelty of his words shatters the last remnants of my naive hope, heavily mingling with a massive, suffocating wave of self-pity. As he glares at me with absolute contempt, I am left completely broken in the freezing dark. How on earth did I ever find myself trapped in this horrific sort of mess?