Cindy ran to the bathroom.
Her hand pressed tightly against her chest, as if she could hold her heart together. Tears poured down her face as she crouched beside the toilet seat. She pulled at her hair in frustration, her thoughts tangled and running wild.
"Why did I do that?" Her voice trembled in her head..
She had acted on impulse, fueled by rage. For once, she had dared to stand up to him.
"Will I stand against him next time?" She thought to herself.
She sank to the floor, tears tracing familiar paths down her cheeks. Her eyes stared blankly at the tiles, but her mind was a storm. All the possible scenarios of what might happen later flashed before her. She might be badly beaten, even hospitalized or worse...
"Divorce!"
The word hit her like cold water. She froze on that thought, letting it echo.
"I would love a divorce," she whispered to herself.
A world unfolded in her mind, a world where she could walk the beach at sunrise, free of prying eyes. She would breathe deeply without fear, chase after the dreams she'd long buried beneath obedience and shame.
Her lips curled into the faintest smile. But it didn't last.
Her brows creased, the smile slipping. "Dream? What dream am I even talking about?"
A memory rose, uninvited.
Being a ballerina. The stage lights. The pirouettes. Applause.
But her body ached now. Her back throbbed from chores, her knees stiff from neglect.
"My body can't do that anymore," she muttered bitterly. "I clung to that dream for too long, but it is gone. I will never be a swan, I lost that title a long time ago!"
She let the silence fill the space again, only for another thought to rise and choke her.
"Will divorce work?"
She wanted it. She did. But just as the tiniest flame of hope flickered in her chest, a heavy wind of reality snuffed it out.
There is no way to divorce Thornson.
Divorcing Thornson didn't just mean freedom. It meant scandal. It meant her parents losing the church, their reputation, and their standing in the community.
It meant disgrace.
She groaned softly and shook her head. Everything she imagined, every small hope she tried to build, collapsed before she could even see clearly.
A dream. That is all it was. And not one meant for her.
"Maybe I should go back and beg for his mercy," she said aloud, voice barely above a whisper.
She drew her knees to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around herself. She didn't want to be hurt again today. Her hand grazed her wrist. The bandage was still fresh, still hiding the wound beneath. Cindy knew Thornson wouldn't be merciful about that either. He always got his way.
She patted her coat, looking for her phone, but surprisingly, it was not there. "F*ck!" She cursed under her breath.
She slowly got to her feet and flushed the toilet, the sound grounding her momentarily. As she opened the bathroom door, she came face to face with her colleague.
Her mind screamed for her to act normal, but her face betrayed her.
Without a word, she adjusted her scarf and tried to walk past.
The woman blocked her path.
"You two should really stop sneaking into the bathroom," the colleague said with a smirk, her tone dripping sarcasm.
Cindy blinked at her, too tired to pretend.
"Did your husband come in here with you, too? Why don't you use the male stalls then?" she chuckled, clearly amused by her cruel humour.
Cindy's hands curled into fists.
She didn't want this. Not now. Not from her.
She yanked her arm away from the woman's touch, her voice steady but sharp, "What, are you that jealous? Want to be in my shoes?"
The colleague, Kate, stepped closer, lips curling with fury.
"Excuse you?" She snapped.
Cindy didn't back down. Her voice rose just slightly, enough to cut.
"Kate, you've been married three times. If you can't please them, don't come at me."
Kate's eyes narrowed. She moved even closer.
"Look at the one to talk, do you even know Thornson at all?"
That struck deeper than Cindy expected. Her mouth opened, but no words came.
Her chest tightened. Was she defending herself or just projecting all the rage she had for Thornson?
And yet Kate wasn't finished.
"What," Cindy snapped, needing to wound someone back. "Do you want to fuck him too?"
The words escaped before she could catch them. She didn't weigh them. She didn't mean them..
Kate chuckled. She walked to the sink, turned on the tap, and let the water run.
Cindy stood frozen. Confused?
Kate dried her hands slowly, turning to Cindy with a look that was colder than fury. A knowing smile played on her lips.
"Why didn't you ask who my second husband was?"
Cindy blinked.
She was sure she had misheard.
"What?" She whispered.
The truth was, all the rumour she had from other teachers was the trump card that she had against Kate. She never asked the names of her ex-husbands. She was never interested. She watched as Kate smiled in surprise.
Kate didn't repeat herself. She simply brushed past Cindy and muttered, "Make sure you get your bruises treated."
Cindy spun around, but Kate was already gone.
Her eyes caught the mirror, and the reflection startled her.
Hair wild. Eyes swollen. Neck faintly bruised.
She rushed to the sink and splashed some water on her face. The words rang in her ears.
"Were Thornson and Kate married?"
She stared at her reflection. It looked better now, more composed. But inside, everything was unravelling.
She didn't know much about her husband, just the surface. Just the stories she was told. Wealthy family. A good match. A man who 'saved' her from a life without prospects.
She never asked about his past. No exes. No baby-mama drama. No gossip.
But now…
"No, no," she whispered, shaking her head.
She couldn't let this get to her. Not now. Not here.
She wiped her face and started to think. She needed to talk to Tumi. Tumi always knew things. But how would she even bring it up?
She looked in the mirror again. The concealer was holding. The scarf hid the rest.
She reached for her lip balm, applying it with practised ease. She tried to smile, to appear normal.
But Kate's final words pierced through again.
She tilted her head slightly and examined her neck in the mirror.
"How did she know?"
Her fingers trembled as she adjusted the scarf.
Her thoughts raced. Not about what Thornson would do tonight, not about the bruises. But about Kate.
The fear of being exposed, of having her carefully crafted illusion shattered, tightened its grip on her chest.
She had to pull herself together. One deep breath. Then another.
She cleaned her hands one last time and looked at the mirror, and that is when she saw herself.
A reflection in the glass, a figure behind her, and a low voice,
"Looks like you are good at putting on a show."