Page 71 of Iridescent
Colette looks up at me with wide, hesitant eyes. She has been with us for years, long enough to know every rhythm of this house. For all her fondness for gossip, she has always known when to keep her mouth shut when it matters.
“Sir… madame left this morning,” she says cautiously.
The words land like a blow to my chest.
“This morning?” My hand clamps around the railing until it trembles beneath my grip. “Did she say where she was going?”
Colette doesn’t answer at once. Her gaze slips from mine, her shoulders drawing in like she already knows whatever she says next will not be enough.
“Speak.”
“No, Mr. Navarro.” She swallows. “She didn’t. I heard the front door slam while I was in the kitchen, and when I came out, madame was already heading for the car with a suitcase.”
“Did Peter take her?”
Colette nods.
My jaw clenches. Yara left with our driver, and no one thought to inform me.
Anger flares, but I force it down before it can take shape. Colette looks close to worrying herself sick. This is not her fault.
It is mine. All of it.
“Thank you, Colette,” I say, struggling to keep my voice composed. “That will be all.”
I walk away before she can utter another word.
How could I have let my own fear blind me to this? I should have been here. Instead, I chose cowardice, and now she’s gone.
I dial Peter’s number and put the call on speaker. My hand is not as still asI want it to be. It rings only once before he picks up.
“Mr. Navarro.” Peter sounds wary, as though he’s been expecting this call.
“Where is my wife?” I ask without preamble. “Where did you take her?”
There’s a brief pause. “To the airport, sir. Nice Côte d’Azur. She caught the 8:30 flight out.”
My breath hisses between my teeth. “Did she say anything to you?”
“Only that she needed to go home.” His words land heavily. We both knowhomedidn’t mean here anymore.
I end the call.
Yara’s family is from Crete. The old villa on her grandmother’s land is the only place she could mean. At least now I know where she’s headed. Relief hits first, then anguish right behind it. Crete. Her grandmother. The island where she grew up, and the place she has avoided for years.
Every time I brought it up, she deflected. An excuse. A distraction. Anything but the truth. Since her parents died, even the thought of going back there has terrified her.
And now, because of me, she has.
I close my eyes.What have I done?
By now, her yiayia must know. She must know what I did to the woman I promised to protect. The woman I swore I would make happy.
I cannot let myself think about the disappointment she must feel.
I fucked up.
I stare up at a photograph mounted on the wall: me and Yara on our wedding day, smiling as if the future could only ever be bright. Emotion fractures the numb shell around me. She was radiant that day, all sunlight and laughter. I promised her the world. Every happiness I could give her. And what have I given her instead? My secrets. My lies. My private hell dragged across her life without once giving her the truth. I have betrayed her trust again and again.
