Below, I heard coughing. Splashing. Her name, echoing again and again.
“I told you she was jealous,” someone whispered.
“She always hated Margaret. This time she pushed her too far.”
“She should be ashamed. What kind of woman ruins her own anniversary?”
I didn’t flinch. I stared down at the water. But all I could see were the silver glints of that hairpin, glinting under the moonlight.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t speak. Because at that moment, I realized something: she didn’t fall. She performed.
And he jumped to save the show.
But me? I was done playing as their audience.
---
Hakeem climbed back onto the yacht, soaked to the bone, Margaret in his arms like she was made of glass. Her head lolled, limbs limp. He laid her down on the deck and immediately started CPR. Chest compressions. Mouth-to-mouth. His hands shook as he pushed, breath catching on her name.
“Margaret,” he whispered, over and over. “Stay with me. Breathe. Please, baby—”
I watched from the other side of the deck, clothes dripping, knees raw from the polished wood. And through the tears in my eyes, I saw it. Just for a second. Margaret’s mouth twitched. Not in pain. Not in panic. But in a smile. She was pretending. The cough that followed was exaggerated. Mournful. Weak. The perfect little performance.
Hakeem let out a choked breath and pulled her into his arms the moment she started sobbing. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
My chest burned. Not from jealousy. Not even from rage. But from the weight of truth—that I would never win against a ghost.
He looked at me like I was the infection in his perfect night. Like my very existence had ruined everything.
“You humiliated her,” he said.
“She jumped,” I croaked. “You saw it, she jumped herself.” But it didn’t matter. Margaret whimpered into his chest again, just loud enough for everyone to hear. Her voice cracked, shaking.
“Hakeem… I was so scared…”
That was it.
He stood up slowly. Turned to his guards.
“Strip her down.”
I flinched. “No! Wait, Hakeem—”
“Do it.”
They grabbed me. Tore my dress from my body like it meant nothing. I fought, but it didn’t matter. I was dragged to the center of the deck, bare under the spotlight, salt water drying on my skin.