Oh.
—
The other woman stood.
Slowly. Carefully. As if approaching something fragile.
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” she said, her voice calm but trembling underneath. “I’m Daniel’s wife.”
Lena finally turned to face her fully.
Up close, she could see the details—the expensive fabric of her coat, the subtle perfume that lingered in the air, the way she carried herself with quiet confidence.
Not a mistake.
Not a fling.
Something real.
Something… established.
Lena smiled.
It wasn’t a kind smile.
But it wasn’t cruel either.
It was the kind of smile you give when the last piece of a puzzle finally clicks into place—and you realize the picture is nothing like you thought.
“I’m sure you are,” Lena said gently.
The woman blinked, confused.
“I—what?”
But Lena didn’t answer.
