The pain in my chest made it impossible to breathe.
This woman—who had occupied a full third of my life, who had held my hand just an hour ago, who had promised to grow old with me—didn't believe me.
What was the point of this engagement anymore?
"Fine. If we can't sort this out here, then you're coming with me to the police station."
I reached past Dora to grab Guy.
A grown man in his twenties—yet he recoiled like a rabbit facing the butcher's knife, thrashing in wide-eyed terror.
"Mr. Fox! Mr. Fox, save me! I think he's trying to kill me!"
I ignored his wailing completely, dragging him toward the exit.
Dora rushed over and pried at my grip on Guy's arm.
When I wouldn't let go, she wound back and slapped me across the face.
Crack.
The sound cut through the banquet hall like a gunshot. The room fell silent.
Half my face went numb, then burned—like a thousand needles stabbing at once. My right ear rang with a high-pitched whine.
Dora seemed frozen too, staring at her own hand as if it belonged to someone else.
"Ha."
I licked the blood from the corner of my mouth and let out a hollow laugh, stepping closer to her.
Guy immediately threw himself between us like a hen guarding her chick, arms spread wide in what he clearly imagined was a heroic stance.
"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded. "Even if Ms. Fox hit you, you deserved it! You're the one who couldn't keep it in your pants—you betrayed her first!"
I looked at his self-righteous display.
I was so tired. Bone-deep exhausted.
"You keep claiming I filmed obscene videos overseas," I said evenly. "Where's your proof?"
"Young man, you think you can just flap your lips and spread whatever lies you want?"
Murmurs rippled through the guests.
"He has a point—you can't just take one person's word for something like this."
Guy bit his lip, doing his best impression of a wronged martyr standing tall against injustice.
"Fine. You asked for this."
He pulled out his phone and connected it to the venue's main screen.
The photo of Dora and me—our engagement portrait, the two of us smiling—vanished. In its place, a video began to play.
A man and a foreign woman, tangled together. The man's face was slack with pleasure, wearing a greasy, leering grin.
And that face—displayed in perfect clarity for everyone to see—was mine.
The banquet hall erupted.
Parents covered their children's eyes.
Others leaned forward, gawking.