Revenge Wedding

Zoe hadn't planned on it being that night. She hadn't planned on how a simple, quiet evening, where everything seemed to be going normally, would turn everything upside down. As she had just returned to their apartment, she had had this strange feeling of being out of sync, an inexplicable impression that something was wrong. She had put it down to the stress of work, to the fact that she hadn't slept enough in the last few days. But now, thinking back to the intuition that had struck her, she wondered how she hadn't been able to perceive it sooner.

She had opened the living room door a crack, her shoes barely put in the entryway, her coat still hanging on the door. It was Victor's silhouette that she had seen, sitting on the sofa, laughing out loud. But it was not a banal laugh, it was that laugh that she knew well: that of a deep complicity, a shared, intimate laugh. He seemed to have forgotten everything else in the world, everything they had built together. But what had immediately captured her attention was not simply the scene, but the presence of Damien, Victor's best friend. This detail, this little something that should never have been there. Damien was not supposed to be there. Zoe knew that it was not normal, but she had not wanted it, she had not wanted to see what she was going to see.

She had approached, unsure of what she would find. But the words had struck like a guillotine. Damien had tilted his head back, bursting into laughter, and his hands were resting on Victor's knees. There was nothing suspicious about that in itself, except that Damien's fingers had lingered a little too close to Victor's thighs, and when he had slid a glance towards his friend's face, he had sketched a smile that had made Zoe shiver from head to toe.

She had seen the moment they had realized she was there. Victor's gaze had frozen, his smile had faded as suddenly as his laughter had. A heavy silence had filled the room. Zoe had frozen in turn, unable to move, unable to scream, unable to understand what had just happened. She hadn't needed words to understand. She knew. It was as if a veil had been torn away, letting her discover a world she would never have thought possible. She had seen their complicity, and she had seen something even more devastating: the way Victor had looked away. As if, in that moment, he had sought to hide a truth that he knew was unacceptable.

Damien had then said, in a voice too calm, too deliberate: "Zoe, wait, it's not what you think." But she didn't want to hear anymore. She had already seen everything, understood everything. Her eyes had filled with tears, but she had forced herself to stay calm, not to burst into tears. Not yet. She didn't want to do them this favor, didn't want to give them the right to see her collapse.

"So it's true..." she had whispered, more to herself than to them. She had taken a step back, then two, until her feet hit the corner of the furniture. She had wanted to run away, but her legs were heavy. She was paralyzed by pain, by disappointment, by humiliation. "How could you..." Zoe's voice had trembled, but she had done her best to make her words carry. She had looked at him, Victor, this man she loved and with whom she had shared so many plans, so many dreams. And this same man was now there, in their living room, laughing with his best friend, as if none of that mattered.

Victor had stood up, moving toward her, but she had pushed him away with a sharp gesture. "Don't come to me." He had hesitated, as if, for the first time, he didn't know what to do. As if, in that suspended moment, he had no idea what he could say to repair what he had destroyed. Zoe didn't have the courage to look him in the eye. She knew she would never be able to look at him the same way again.