“Just tell me where you’re going when you go out, who you’re seeing when you see someone. And let me know what you’re having for your meals — morning, lunch, dinner. That’s all I asked.”
“You got broken up with for asking ‘that’?”
“Yes! Isn’t he awful? Sharing little things like that is just basic couple behavior. Isn’t it, Ivelina?”
Ivelina blinked.
‘Are you actually supposed to exchange meal menus when you’re seeing someone?’
Having never been in a relationship, she genuinely had no idea.
Dorothy leaned in to reinforce Kate’s position.
“Of course you are! That’s just common courtesy between partners. Anyone who says they’re too busy or that it’s not their style is simply someone who doesn’t care enough.”
Kate dabbed at her eyes with Dorothy’s words behind her.
“And yet somehow I’m always the one being told I’m suffocating. At this point I’m starting to wonder if the problem is me.”
“Kate. Don’t look for the reason in yourself. The problem is just that he wasn’t worth very much.”
“You’re right. Ugh — crying always makes me hungry.”
Kate wiped her face dry as if she had never shed a tear, picked up her fork, and stuffed a third of a slice of cake into her mouth in one go before continuing to speak.
‘Wait.’
She had just received rather significant information.
‘Men dislike clingy women? What was it — sharing daily routines? Menus and…’
“Oh, Ivelina — where did you disappear to that night? You just vanished. I was shocked.”
“Hmm?”
“You can’t just wander off mid-party without saying anything. I spent ages looking for you around the ballroom.”
“I’m sorry. I stepped out for some air and then…”
“You could have at least said something first. Do you know how worried Dorothy and I were? There are all sorts of dangerous people in the world. Something didn’t happen to you that night, did it?”
Something had, in fact, happened.
“It’s a long story, but — I broke off my engagement.”
“‘What?!'”
“Seriously? With Edwin?”
‘The more people who know about the broken engagement, the better. If it becomes widely known, Edwin won’t be able to cause trouble without it looking bad for him.’
It might be overcautious, but given that Edwin was entirely capable of pulling some underhanded stunt, getting ahead of him with the few people she knew seemed wise.
“Hold on — Ivelina, is that true? You broke things off with Edwin?”
“Yes. Completely finished.”
“But why? You held on for ten whole years—”
Dorothy, who reliably occupied the role of most curious person in any room, was first with questions.
“You all know I could barely attend a ball without Edwin as my escort because of that whole ‘male guardian’ business?”
“Yes, of course. Edwin even hated you staying out late with us at events.”
“Exactly. And honestly, I always thought that was completely unreasonable. In this day and age?”
Kate and Dorothy nodded vigorously in agreement.
“As you know, I went to that ball with Edwin. Oh — except for Camilla. You couldn’t make it that night.”
Camilla, seated to her right, gave a quiet nod.
“Right, right. But what happened? Don’t tell me you had a fight with him over the drinking.”
Ivelina picked up her teacup and drained it in several long gulps. Then she set it down on the saucer with a decisive click.
“No. I found Edwin in the garden with some woman. ‘Doing that’. In the middle of the night.”
She reported Edwin’s conduct without softening a single detail. She had no intention of shielding his sordid private life. Making the full facts known was the most effective way to establish the legitimacy of the broken engagement.
“What?! Has he lost his mind?! Who was she?!”
“Honestly — Edwin is hopeless. He wasn’t even married yet and he’s already—”
“I didn’t get a clear look at her face. The garden was quite dark, and what I could see was mainly the back of Edwin’s head and his rather pale backside in motion.”
She grimaced at the memory of the repulsive, animal scene.
“Ivelina! You should have marched straight up to them and slapped him senseless! You catch these things in the act and deal with them ‘immediately’! Ugh, I could scream!”
Kate vented her indignation with some creative vocabulary.
“The fault lies with the man who was misbehaving while engaged. The other woman wasn’t the one promised to me.”
Kate and Dorothy exchanged a look — ‘she’s not wrong, she’s not wrong’ — and nodded in agreement.
Now that she thought about it, Camilla had been unusually quiet all afternoon. She had looked pale since they arrived, and the worry had been building quietly in the back of her mind.
While Kate and Dorothy were energetically dissecting Edwin’s character, she leaned over gently toward Camilla.
“Camilla — are you feeling all right?”
“…Hmm?”
“You’ve looked pale since we arrived. No color in your face.”
“Oh — I think I ate lunch a bit too quickly. A bit of indigestion, that’s all.”
“If it gets worse, ask someone to bring you something for it, all right?”
“Mm, thank you, Ivelina.”
She gave Camilla’s back a couple of gentle pats and rejoined the conversation.
The conversation on the subject of Edwin continued with considerable passion for some time before eventually reaching a natural lull. Kate excused herself to go inside and touch up her makeup. Dorothy, apparently talked to the point of genuine hunger, finished off every remaining piece of cake on the platter.
In the quiet that followed, Dorothy glanced across the table toward Camilla and asked, with careful softness:
“Camilla — have you lost your appetite?”
Ivelina had been keeping an eye on Camilla too. She tilted slightly in her chair to look more closely.
Camilla’s color had worsened since earlier.
“You said you weren’t feeling well before. Is it still bothering you?”
“…A bit. My stomach feels unsettled. I’m sorry, everyone.”
Kate returned from inside at that moment — their hostess, freshly composed — and waved off the apology, telling Camilla there was nothing at all to be sorry about. But Dorothy, who had always been the sharpest of them, was not so easily satisfied.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“Camilla. Tell me honestly. Something’s going on, isn’t it.”
“…What?”
The pointed question caught Camilla visibly off guard.
“You’ve been pressing your hand against your lower abdomen since we arrived. And you said your stomach was unsettled but— wait. You don’t mean—”
‘It’s not just an upset stomach, is it.’
Whatever the matter was with her own situation, what was clear was that something was genuinely wrong with Camilla. She gave her full attention.
Dorothy’s voice softened to something gentle and coaxing.
“Camilla. Talk to us. What’s going on? Keeping things locked inside only makes the hurt grow heavier.”
Camilla’s head dropped.
A moment later, her body began to tremble — fine, barely perceptible shudders.
Ivelina, sitting closest, reached out and took Camilla’s shaking hands in hers.
Something about her expression looked cornered.
“It’s all right, Camilla,” she said carefully, keeping her voice low and steady. “If it’s too hard to talk about, you don’t have to. You can say it whenever you’re ready.”
In the next instant, large tears dropped onto the back of her hand. One, then another.
Across the table, Kate and Dorothy seemed to understand at once that this was serious. Without a word between them, they fell silent.
And waited.
Patient and still, until Camilla found the courage.
Camilla breathed in and out slowly, in long, unsteady pulls. The only sound in the garden was the rise and fall of that shaky breath.
Ten or so minutes passed.
At last, Camilla spoke.
“Um… everyone.”
They responded gently, making sure their voices carried nothing but warmth.
“Yes, Camilla.”
“It’s all right. We’re listening.”
A tide of grief rose visibly in Camilla’s throat. Her voice, when it came, was thick with it.
Every one of them was focused entirely on her.
With her chin tucked low — the posture of someone confessing a sin she didn’t commit — Camilla said:
“…I’m pregnant.”
Six eyes moved across the table, meeting each other in brief, wordless exchanges.
Kate and Dorothy pressed their lips together.
A silence settled over the table.
Regardless of country, an unmarried woman in her condition would face nothing but judgment. The look on Camilla’s face made it clear that the circumstances were not good in any sense.
Ivelina drew a steady breath and asked:
“Will he take responsibility? The father.”
Camilla shook her head, still trembling, and wrung the words out through her tears.
“He asked me… to prove it was his… I told him over and over again that it was his child… but he wouldn’t believe me…”
“…”
“He stopped responding after that. He won’t see me, won’t even answer my letters…”
How could anyone do that — to a woman carrying what might be his own child?
“…Camilla.” Dorothy’s voice sharpened with barely restrained fury. “Who is he? The father.”
Camilla glanced at Ivelina — a brief, complicated look — and then said with quiet care:
“…I’m sorry. I can’t tell you that.”
* * *
