You are standing beside the pool with a glass of lemonade in your hand when Martin comes toward you wearing that smile.
It is the same smile he has worn for seven years. The smile that tells everyone else a joke is coming, but tells you a knife is already in his hand. He has a drink in one hand, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, and the easy confidence of a man who has never had to pay for the wounds he leaves behind.
Felipe is near the grill, laughing with Simon and Derek. He sees Martin walking toward you. You know he sees it because his shoulders tense for half a second, but he does not move.
Of course he does not move.
Martin stops in front of you and looks you up and down. His eyes pause on your swim tunic, then your legs, then your face. Olivia, standing beside you, goes quiet.
“Well, Emma,” Martin says loudly, “I have to admit I’m impressed.”
You already know not to ask.
But he continues anyway.
“You actually came near the pool. Brave woman. I was worried the water level might rise.”
A few people laugh.
Not many.
Just enough.
Olivia inhales sharply. Clara, who is standing by the outdoor bar, closes her eyes for one second. Felipe looks over, then looks away.
That is when something inside you goes very still.
You do not blush. You do not smile. You do not pretend you did not hear it. For seven years, you have done all those things, and all they ever did was teach him he could keep going.
Martin lifts his glass.
“Come on, don’t look like that,” he says. “You know I’m joking.”
You place your lemonade on the table beside you.
“No,” you say calmly. “You’re not.”
The pool area quiets almost immediately.
Martin’s smile freezes.
