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𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: featherstone - the paper kites
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Marianna stood alone in the lavatory, the faint hum of chatter from the party outside seeping through the closed door. With trembling hands, she removed the faux fur draped around her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor as she leaned against the bathroom counter, her gaze fixed on the reflection staring back at her.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Marianna felt the facade of strength she had meticulously crafted begin to crumble. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, a stark departure from the confident persona she so effortlessly projected to the world.
As she gazed into the mirror, she felt a prickling sensation behind her eyes, the telltale sign of tears threatening to spill over. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes, willing herself to regain composure, to push back the tide of emotion threatening to engulf her.
"No," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible above the din of her racing thoughts. "I will not cry. Not here, not now."
Yet even as she fought to suppress the rising tide of tears, Marianna couldn't shake the nagging feeling of inadequacy that gnawed at her insides. Standing beside Tommy and Grace, she felt small, insignificant—a mere shadow of the woman she once was.
Louis's well-intentioned lie only served to exacerbate her feelings of inadequacy. She knew how she appeared next to him—a mismatched pair, a tarnished jewel beside a shining beacon of perfection. And yet, despite his noble intentions, Marianna couldn't help but feel a surge of anger towards him.
Why had he felt the need to claim her as his own? Did he not see the charade for what it was—a desperate attempt to save face in the presence of her former lover and his wife?
And worst of all, why did Marianna feel the overwhelming urge to confess the truth to Tommy—to lay bare the deception that had unfolded before them? It was a question she couldn't answer, a desire she couldn't comprehend.
With a heavy sigh, Marianna pushed herself away from the counter, steeling herself for the inevitable return to the party outside. As she smoothed down the wrinkles in her dress and forced a practiced smile onto her lips, she knew that the facade would hold—for now.
But beneath the veneer of confidence and poise, Marianna couldn't shake the feeling that her carefully constructed world was teetering on the brink of collapse—and that the truth, however painful, was poised to shatter the fragile illusion she had so painstakingly crafted.
