The glittering chandelier cast a warm glow over the VIP room, illuminating the faces of the well-dressed couples mingling over champagne and hors d'oeuvres at the Investors's dinner for NexusWave. This was our first official event as an engaged couple. I stood at James's side, my hand resting lightly on his arm. We were the perfect picture of the happy couple.

But beneath the surface, I was a bundle of nerves. The eyes of every woman in the room seemed fixed on me, their gazes sharp and assessing as they took in my emerald cocktail dress and the large sapphire and opal ring glittering on my finger. I could practically hear their thoughts, the silent judgments and speculations about the new money who had snagged the city's most eligible bachelor.

James, of course, was the picture of calm. His charming smile never faltered as he worked the room, shaking hands and making small talk with the other investors and their wives. I tried to follow his lead, smiling and nodding at all the right moments, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was an imposter, a fraud playing a role I had no right to claim.

As the evening wore on, the men gradually drifted away from their wives, forming small clusters around the room as they discussed business and politics. I found myself adrift in a sea of designer dresses and perfectly coiffed hair, the conversation around me turning to topics I had little experience with - organising charity auctions and society balls, the latest gossip about who was divorcing whom.

I tried to join in, offering tentative comments about my plans to host more events, but my words fell flat. These women had been born into this world and groomed for it since birth. I was an outsider, a newcomer playing a game I barely understood.

But what struck me most was how the other men talked about their wives while still in earshot. The casual dismissiveness and even outright disdain in their voices. They spoke of them as if they were children, silly creatures who couldn't possibly understand the vital work their husbands were doing - me included. James offered no witty comeback to shield me from their venomous words.

I felt my blood boil, my fingers clenching around the stem of my champagne glass as I heard them, to that far from us. How dare they? How dare they speak about us, the women who supported them and stood by their sides as if we were nothing more than pretty decorative accessories?

I was just about to open my mouth, to let loose with the scathing retort that was burning on the tip of my tongue, when I felt James's hand close around mine, his fingers warm and firm against my skin.

"Darling," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "Come with me for a moment, will you?"

Before I could respond, he whisked me away from the group, his arm sliding around my waist as he drew me close. I could feel the eyes of the other couples on us and could practically hear the whispers and the speculations, but James didn't seem to care.

He led me out onto the balcony, the cool night air a welcome respite from the stuffiness of the VIP room. But before I could say a word, he was pulling me into his arms, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that stole the breath from my lungs.

I stiffened, my hands coming up to push against his chest and away from me. This wasn't part of the plan or what we had agreed upon. But James held me fast, his lips moving insistently over mine until I had no choice but to follow his lead.

When he finally pulled away, I was flushed and breathless, my head spinning from the intensity and surprise of the moment. James looked down at me, his eyes dark and unreadable in the dim light of the balcony.

"I know you're angry," he murmured, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. "But we have to be careful, Noreen. We can't afford to alienate these people, not when the future of NexusWave is riding on this deal."

I softly pulled away from his touch, my eyes narrowing so as not to draw attention. "We'll talk later," I said, my voice cold and clipped.

James sighed, but he didn't argue. He knew me well enough to know when I wasn't ready to be reasoned with.

We returned to the party, our smiles firmly in place, but the tension between us was palpable. I could feel it in James's stiff arm around my waist and how his jaw clenched every time one of the men made a particularly egregious comment.

By the time all prospective investors had left, I was practically vibrating with pent-up anger and frustration. The drive home was silent, the air between us thick with unspoken words and barely suppressed emotion.

As soon as we stepped through the front door of my house, I rounded on James, my eyes blazing with fury.

"How could you let them talk about me like that?" I demanded, my voice shaking with anger. "How could you just sit there and say nothing while they treated us, treated me like we were nothing more than pretty little playthings?"

James ran a hand through his hair, his expression pained. "Noreen, I know you're upset, but we can't afford to make enemies right now. Not when we're so close to closing this deal."

I shook my head, hot tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "I don't care about the deal, James. I care about being treated with respect, as your equal, about not having to sit there and smile while men talk about me like I'm some kind of mindless creature."

James reached for me, his hand closing around my wrist. "Noreen, please. Let's just talk about this calmly."

But I wrenched my arm away, my palm connecting with his cheek in a sharp slap. James reeled back, his eyes wide with shock and hurt.

"Don't touch me!" I hissed, my voice low and venomous. "Don't you dare try to placate me, not after what happened. I deserve the same respect they give you. I have the same job as you do. I'm not here warming your bed, waiting for you to arrive with your big-boy money!" I laughed wryly, and my tone turned icy, "And even if I were, I deserved to be respected as a human being, as the one organising all the pretty events that would give you - the big shot - the aura of a caring, family man trying to give back to society."

I shook my head in disbelief, my voice filled with hate and disdain. "I wish you knew the hurt of being treated like a small, insignificant thing in a room full of powerful men."

With that, I turned on my heel and stalked up the stairs to my room. My vision blurred with tears of rage and humiliation. I didn't look back or wait to see if James would follow me.

I just needed to be alone, to find a way to process the events of the evening without his presence, without his excuses and rationalisations. This was just like the horrid memories from the past, being humiliated, but this time in a far more subtle way.

As I closed the door to my room behind me, sank down onto the bed, and let the tears finally fall, I couldn't help but wonder if this would be the new normal, how society would see me while I was serving as his wife.

But for now, all I could do was let the anger and the hurt wash over me, let it consume me until there was nothing left but the hollow ache of disappointment and the bitter taste of betrayal blooming in my aching chest.

✦﹒✦﹒✦

I awoke the next morning, my eyes still red and swollen from crying myself to sleep the night before. The memory of the humiliation and betrayal I had felt at the investors' dinner still burned like a fresh wound in my chest.

I rose early, dressed in a sharp navy suit and pulled my hair back into a sleek chignon. I was out the door before the sun had fully risen. I wanted to avoid crossing paths with James; I was still deciding whether to talk to him.

The familiar hum of activity in the building was a welcome distraction from my tumultuous thoughts. I threw myself into my work with a single-minded focus, poring over projects and contracts and scheduling meetings and conference calls with a fervour that bordered on obsession.

Matheo, my always attentive, hovered at the edge of the office, his brow furrowed with concern as he watched me work myself into a frenzy.

"Ms. Hunter," he said softly, delivering the papers I'd requested. Perhaps you should take a break and grab something to eat. You've been at it for hours now."

I looked up, blinking owlishly as I tried to focus on Matheo's face. I glanced at the clock, surprised it was already well past lunchtime. My stomach growled, reminding me I had skipped breakfast in my haste to leave the house.

"I'm fine, Matheo," I said, my voice hoarse from disuse. "I just need to finish up a few more things."

But Matheo was not to be dissuaded. "Ms. Hunter, please. You need to take care of yourself. I'll order some lunch for you. You can eat in the office but must step away from the computer for a bit."

I sighed, knowing that Matheo was right. I nodded wearily, pushing back from my desk. "Thank you, Matheo. I appreciate your concern. A quick lunch would be nice."

As Matheo busied himself to order my food, I allowed myself to breathe and quiet the emotions still swirling inside me. I knew I couldn't avoid James forever, but work was a welcome escape for now.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Matheo entered with a large bouquet of gardenias and red chrysanthemums in a crystal vase and lunch in the other. I frowned at the flowers he carefully placed on my coffee table, "These have just arrived for you, Ms. Hunter."

I rose, staring at the vase suspiciously. With shaking hands, I plucked the small white card from among the stems, my heart pounding as I read the words. "I'm sorry," it said simply, the two words heavy with meaning. And with that, I knew who had sent them, James.

Turning my attention to the meal, I felt a flicker of appreciation for his gesture. James had taken the time to choose something for me, his way of trying to make amends. But the hurt was still too raw. I set the card aside without responding.

The afternoon dragged on as I buried myself in work, trying to ignore the persistent buzz of my phone as James called me.

Eventually, Matheo popped his head in again. "Ms. Hunter," he said hesitantly, "I will take my leave."

I acknowledged his words with a nod. "See you tomorrow, Matheo. Thank you," I said softly.

Matheo nodded sympathetically. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Shaking my head, I managed a small, tired smile. "No, thank you. I just need to finish some work and get going."

I worked late into the night, the office growing quiet and still around me. It was past midnight when I finally dragged myself home, my eyes gritty and exhausted.

As I unlocked the door, I noticed the low hum from the television still on and then the fresh scent of food. I followed my nose to the kitchen, where a large bowl of greens, egg and chicken waited on the counter, a small note propped beside it.

"Noreen," it read, "When you feel ready, let's talk. P.S. Hope you enjoy the salad."

I felt a confusing mix of emotions. Part of me wanted to ignore James's olive branch and hold onto my anger, but another part of me couldn't help but be touched by the thoughtful gesture. Who would say this was the same man who bullied me relentlessly?

I glanced into the living room and saw James asleep on the couch, his face soft and unguarded. He looked nothing like his usual smug persona, who got on her nerves.

With a sigh, I picked up a blanket and slowly covered him, careful not to wake him. Grabbing the salad bowl and a fork, I moved upstairs to my room. Seating on the bed, I took a tentative bite of the salad. It was cool and crisp, the flavours bright on my tongue, sating the hunger that had been screaming for hours.

As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of gratitude amidst the hurt and anger. James's gestures—the flowers, the salad, the note—were small, but they were a start—a sign that he was willing to try to amend what happened. But my heart still felt bruised and wary.