3. Layla
— ? —
Layla
I was still in bed when I heard the shower running.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand and I reached for it without thinking, expecting a notification from work or a message from one of my friends. Instead, Stella’s name lit up the screen.
I stared at it for a full minute, certain I was misreading.
Stella: Why don’t we go shopping? I’m sure you’ll need some new things for your anniversary party.
“Everything okay?” Stefan’s voice came from the doorway.
I looked up. He was leaning against the frame, towel slung low on his hips, water still dripping from his hair.
“Your mother wants to take me shopping.” I held up my phone. “For the anniversary dinner.”
“You’re joking.” He crossed the room and took the phone from my hand, reading the message himself. “Holy shit, she’s actually reaching out.”
“I don’t trust it.” I pulled my knees up to my chest. “She’s never done anything like this before. Not once.”
“Maybe that’s exactly why you should go.” He sat on the edge of the bed and handed the phone back. “She’s making an effort, Lay. That’s huge for her.”
“Or she’s setting a trap.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I don’t know it’s not a trap either.” I stared at the message again. “What if she’s planning something? What if this is another way to make me feel like shit?”
“Then you leave.” Stefan took my hand and squeezed. “You get up, you walk out, and you come home to me. But what if she’s actually trying? What if this is the start of something better?”
I wanted to believe that. I wanted it so badly my chest ached.
“What do I even say to her?” I asked. “I don’t know how to talk to your mother when she’s being nice. I only know how to survive her when she’s awful.”
“Just be yourself.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “She’ll love you. Everyone loves you.”
“Your mother doesn’t love me.”
“She doesn’t know you.” He stood and headed toward the closet. “Give her a chance to actually see who you are. You might be surprised.”
I typed out a response before I could talk myself out of it.
Layla: Sure. I’d love to. Where should I meet you?
Her reply came almost instantly. The name of a boutique in the Gold Coast. A time. A suggestion to skip lunch, because they served champagne.
“She wants to meet at noon.” I looked at Stefan as he pulled on a shirt. “At some fancy place called Margaux.”
“Margaux is incredible.” He buttoned his shirt and reached for his pants. “They do private fittings, champagne, the whole thing. She’s pulling out all the stops for you.”
“That’s what worries me.”
“Stop worrying.” He crossed back to the bed and cupped my face in his hands. “This is good news. My mother is finally accepting that you’re part of this family. That’s what we’ve wanted, isn’t it?”
“That’s what I’ve wanted since the day I met her.”
“Then go.” He kissed me softly. “Text me updates. I want to know everything.”
I watched him grab his watch and wallet from the dresser, my heart doing something complicated in my chest. Hope mixed with suspicion mixed with desperate longing for this to be real.
“I love you,” I said.
He paused at the door and turned back to me. “I love you too. More than anything. Now go bond with my mother and try not to overthink it.”
***
The boutique was everything I’d expected and nothing I was prepared for. I spotted Stella near the back, examining a silk blouse with the kind of casual elegance that came from never worrying about money.
“Darling.” She crossed the room and air-kissed both my cheeks. “You came.”
Wait a minute. Who was this woman, and what had she done to my monster-in-law?
“Of course I came.” I tried to match her warmth. “Thank you for inviting me. This place is beautiful.”
“It’s one of my favorites.” She linked her arm through mine and steered me deeper into the store. “The anniversary party is at the club, so we need something elegant. Something that makes a statement.”
“I was thinking maybe something in blue,” I offered. “Stefan always says he likes me in blue.”
“Blue can be tricky with your coloring.” Stella stopped at a rack and began flipping through dresses. “We should try a few options. See what actually works.”
She selected a navy dress with a high neckline and held it up to my body. “This might work. Forgiving through the middle.”
The comment stung but I swallowed it. She was trying. I could meet her halfway.
“It’s pretty,” I said. “I’ll try it on.”
“Let’s find a few more options first.” She moved to another rack, her fingers quick and decisive. “What about this? The structure would be flattering.”
“Flattering how?”
“It creates shape where there isn’t any.” She said it casually, like it wasn’t an insult. “That’s not a criticism, darling. It’s just fashion.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded. “Sure. I’ll try that one too.”
She selected two more dresses without asking my opinion, each one more conservative than the last. Then she summoned a saleswoman with a wave of her hand.
“We’ll take a private fitting room.” Stella’s smile was gracious. “And champagne, please. Two glasses.”
The saleswoman led us to a room in the back. It was larger than my first apartment. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors. A velvet settee. Fresh flowers on a side table.
“This is incredible.” I looked around, genuinely impressed. “I’ve never been anywhere like this.”
“You should get used to it.” Stella settled onto the settee and crossed her legs. “You’re a Graham now. This is your world.”
“I’ve been a Graham for a while now, Stella.” I tried to keep the bite out of it, but failed.
The saleswoman returned with two glasses of champagne on a silver tray. I accepted mine and pretended to sip, grateful for something to do with my hands.
“Try the navy one first.” Stella gestured to the rack where the dresses hung. “I have a good feeling about it.”
I stripped down to my underwear and pulled the dress over my head, trying not to feel self-conscious under her gaze. The fabric was beautiful, but the cut was wrong. Too boxy. Too matronly.
“What do you think?” I turned to face her.
“Hmm.” She tilted her head. “The color is good, but the silhouette isn’t right. Try the next one.”
The second dress was worse. It made me look like I was attending a funeral. I said as much, and Stella actually laughed.
“You’re right.” She waved her hand. “Next.”
The third dress was too tight in the hips. The fourth was too loose in the bust. By the time I’d tried them all, I was starting to feel like nothing would ever fit right.
“Don’t be discouraged.” Stella set down her champagne glass. “Finding the right dress takes time. We’ll find something.”
“Maybe I should just wear something I already own.”
“Nonsense.” Her voice was firm. “The anniversary dinner is important. You need to look the part.”
I changed back into my own clothes and sat on the settee across from her. This had been nice, actually. Normal. The kind of thing mothers and daughters-in-law did together.
“Thank you for this,” I said. “I know we haven’t always gotten along, but I appreciate you making the effort.”
“I should have done it sooner.” Stella’s expression was almost warm. “I know I haven’t been welcoming. Stefan has made that very clear to me.”
“He talks to you about me?”
“He talks to me about everything.” She picked up her champagne and took a delicate sip. “He adores you very much, Layla. That’s obvious to anyone who sees you together.”
My chest swelled. “I love him too. More than I ever thought I could love anyone.”
“I know you do.” She set down her glass. “Which is why this is so difficult.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. “What do you mean?”
“Layla.” Her voice shifted. Something cold crept into her eyes. “There’s something I need to show you.”
“What is it?”
“I debated whether to tell you.” She pulled her phone from her purse. “I really did. Part of me thought ignorance might be kinder. But a wife deserves to know what her husband says when she’s not in the room.”
My stomach dropped. “Stella, what are you talking about?”
She tapped her phone screen and held it out to me. A voice recording. She pressed play.
Stefan’s voice filled the room.
“She’s not forever material.” I felt the words in my chest.
How could he say that about me?
“She doesn’t have what it takes.” His voice was so casual. So certain. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and I just don’t see her as the mother of my children.”
Another voice, muffled. Someone asking a question I couldn’t make out.
Then Stefan again: “I can’t keep pretending.”
My hands started shaking. The champagne glass trembled between my fingers.
“She has no passion.” His voice continued, and each word was a knife sliding between my ribs. “I need someone like Pippa, with drive, you know? Someone who actually has ambition. Someone who wants more out of life than just existing.”
Pippa. My sister. He was talking about my sister.
“Pippa has fire.” He sounded almost wistful. “Pippa has ambition. Layla is just there. She exists. I settled, and I shouldn’t have.”
The champagne glass slipped from my fingers and shattered on the marble floor. Golden liquid spread across the white stone, seeping into the cracks.
“This can’t be real.” My voice came out strangled. “You faked this. You doctored it somehow.”
“I wish I had, darling.” Stella’s voice was soft. Almost sympathetic. “I truly wish I had. But you know your husband’s voice. You know how he sounds when he’s being honest.”
I did know. That was the worst part. I knew exactly how Stefan sounded when he was telling the truth.
“Why would he say these things?” I was grasping at straws now, desperate for anything to hold onto. “We’re happy. We just had the most amazing night together. He told me he loved me.”
“Men say a lot of things they don’t mean.” Stella leaned forward, her eyes locked on mine. “Especially to women they feel guilty about betraying.”
“Betraying?” The word felt foreign in my mouth. “Stefan isn’t betraying me.”
“Isn’t he?” She raised an eyebrow. “Think about it, Layla. Your sister is everything you’re not. She’s driven. She’s accomplished. She was valedictorian while you were what? Average? Forgettable?”
The words hit every insecurity I’d ever had. Every moment of my childhood where Pippa had shone brighter. Every family dinner where my parents gushed about her achievements while I sat silent. Every time someone had looked past me to get to her.
“He’s going to leave you.” Stella’s voice was almost gentle now. “Everyone will know I was right about you from the start.”
I stood up so fast my head spun. “I don’t believe you.”
“Then go ask him.” She didn’t flinch. “Go look him in the eye and ask him how he feels about Pippa. Ask him if he ever thinks about what might have been if he’d met her first.”
“I will.” I grabbed my purse with shaking hands. “I’m going to ask him right now, and he’s going to tell me this is all bullshit.”
“I hope you’re right, darling.” Stella’s smile was poison. “I really do.”
I didn’t remember the drive to Stefan’s office. One moment I was running out of the boutique, the next I was pulling into the parking garage of his building, my cheeks wet with tears I didn’t remember crying.
My hands shook as I killed the engine. The recording played on loop in my head, Stefan’s voice saying things I couldn’t unhear.
She’s not forever material. I settled. Pippa has fire.
But Stella was a liar. She manipulated people. She had spent two years trying to drive a wedge between me and Stefan.
I needed to hear it from him. I needed to look in his eyes and see the truth.
The elevator took forever. Each floor dinged past and I counted them in my head, my heart pounding harder with every number.
The doors opened and I stepped out into the hallway. Stefan’s office was at the end, past the reception desk, past the rows of cubicles. I walked without seeing, my feet carrying me forward on autopilot.
I rounded the corner toward his door.
And stopped.
Through the glass walls of his office, I could see them.
Stefan behind his desk. Pippa leaning over his chair, her hand on his shoulder. Their heads were bent together, almost touching. He was laughing at something she said.
I couldn’t breathe.
Everything Stella had said crashed over me at once.
Pippa said something else and Stefan laughed again. He reached up and put his hand over hers where it rested on his shoulder.
I backed away before either of them could look up.
Then I turned and ran.
Down the hallway. Into the elevator. I made it to my car before the sobs broke free.
I sat in the driver’s seat and cried until I couldn’t breathe. Until my chest hurt. Until there was nothing left inside me but a hollow, aching emptiness.
The recording was real. Everything Stella said was true. My husband wanted my sister.
And I had just seen the proof with my own eyes.