No, she told herself. Not anymore. Not here. Not today. Let go of my arm, Victor.
She said. Quietly. Clearly. His grip tightened. Let go, she said again. Victor didn’t move his hand.
But he stepped closer instead, closing the small gap between them until there was nowhere for Elena to go.
The glass wall of the store behind her, his body in front of her, his hand still locked around her arm like a vise.
You didn’t think I’d find out? He said. His voice had dropped now, low and private, meant only for her ears.
New husband. New baby. New little life. Like I just ceased to exist. You need to let go of me right now.
Her voice was shaking, but she kept it as level as she could. People are watching.
Let them watch. He tilted his head slightly, studying her face with that cold familiar curiosity.
The look of a man who had spent years learning exactly which words would land where.
You think any of these people are going to do anything? Look around you, Elena.
Nobody is coming to help you. Nobody ever does. Her eyes moved, just for a second, to the people nearby.
A woman had stopped walking. Two teenagers had looked up from their phones. An older man stood frozen 3 ft away, his face tight with a particular helpless expression of someone who wanted to act and didn’t know how.
Victor was right and they both knew it. The crowd was watching. The crowd was frozen.
The crowd was doing what crowds almost always do when something violent and real happens in front of them.
Nothing. Victor, I’m pregnant, she said. She hated that she said it. Hated that she had to remind him, as if basic human decency needed a reason.
