The tension in the room was palpable. Mila couldn't help but let out a derisive chuckle. "Do I really need to spell it out for you? And drop the 'sister' act—I have no such person in my family."
"Mila!" Lysander, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke up, his voice firm. "Giselle is trying to have a civil conversation with you. Must you always be so prickly?"
Giselle? Oh, please.
"Lysander, it's alright," Giselle said softly, gently patting his hand that lay clenched on the table. Her voice was soothing and calm. "Mila must have misunderstood something. Let me talk to her."
Turning to Mila, Giselle added, "Let's not get worked up, Mila. We have a child here, remember."
Mila bit back her retort, the words dying on her lips.
Her gaze fell on Adrian, standing beside Giselle, his wide eyes filled with confusion as if he was seeing her for the first time. It dawned on her that in the past seven years, she had never let her anger show in front of him, never voiced her frustrations. It was no wonder he looked at her as if she were a stranger.
She had always tried to shield Adrian from the negativity in her marriage because, after all, the child was the most innocent party in the tangled web of adult relationships.
The facade of calm she had painstakingly maintained was shattered today. Maybe it had been broken from the very start.
Mila closed her eyes, struggling to suppress the turmoil swelling in her chest. Her fingers curled tightly into her palms, the pain grounding her. She spoke calmly, "Adrian, go play over there for a bit."
Adrian hesitated until Giselle prompted him again. Reluctantly, he obeyed, running to the other side of the room but still casting glances back at the adults.
With a heart heavy with ice-cold pain, Mila dropped her mask of forced smiles. Her voice was frigid as she said, "If you two want to continue this charade, do it elsewhere. I find it nauseating."
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