His foot doesn't move. On the contrary, it stays there, stable and deliberate.
As if he knew exactly what he was doing, I feel the heat rising within me, difficult to control. Each breath makes my body burn even more.
Thomas is speaking across from me, telling a story about a difficult customer. His voice is deep, steady, almost monotonous, punctuated by a dry little laugh. But I can't hear anything anymore. The words become blurry... distant.
All I can feel is my own heart. It's pounding against my chest, too hard, too fast. My breathing becomes irregular. I grip my knees tightly until I feel my nails dig slightly into my skin, a mild pain that helps me maintain control... the strength not to succumb to this burning, unsettling heat.
NO! I must regain control. Now.
Under the table, the contact changes. It's no longer a simple brush. Slow. Deliberate. Measured.
A shiver runs through me involuntarily, creeping up my spine. I hate how easily my body reacts, this weakness betrayed by my own senses. Cruel. Unfair.
Mickael tilts his head slightly. His brown eyes meet mine. Despite his apparent calm, I sense the warmth emanating from him. And yet, he sits in front of his brother, talking as if nothing were amiss. Normal. Ordinary. Perfectly calculated.
For a second, I wonder if it's all in my head. But the pressure under the table reminds me that it isn't. He's testing me. He wants to know my limits. To see if I'll react... or remain still.
I try to move his leg away, a subtle movement. He persists, not roughly, just enough to remind me who's in charge here. Who calls the shots.
Thomas: "Are you in love?"
Thomas's voice takes my breath away. I jerk my head up and meet his gaze. His features are relaxed, his voice soft, almost affectionate, something he rarely displays. And this gentleness unsettles me more than any blow.
For a moment, I cling to this image. Yes... despite everything, he's my husband. I owe him respect.
Me: "Yes?" My voice is steady, more so than I would have thought. Thomas stares at me for a little too long.
The silence stretches on. Under the table, Mickael's foot finally withdraws, slowly, like a broken promise.
Thomas: "You seem distracted," said Thomas.
I smile, a controlled, calm smile. I need to regain control.
Me: "I'm just tired... I didn't sleep well last night."
That's not entirely untrue. I never really sleep. Lies. Half-lies. Always lies.
Thomas nods. Breakfast resumes. The clinking of cutlery, the smell of coffee still steaming in the cups... a return to reality. Everything seems normal.
But the air is denser. An invisible line has just been crossed. Silent. Irreversible.
When Thomas gets up to answer his phone, I feel my body relax... by a millimeter. Barely.
Mickael leans slightly towards me. His warmth envelops me even before he moves. Enchanting. Disturbing. Why can't I resist him? His sweet scent disarms me.
Mickael: "You're trembling," he murmurs, his voice low, almost intimate.
I hate that he noticed. That he knows me well enough to see this weakness. I don't reply. I stare at my plate.
Mickael: "He doesn't deserve you."
Those words hit me harder than I expected. I look up at him. This time, I don't look away.
Who does he think he is? Yes, Thomas is violent. Yes, I'm suffering. But Mickael has no right to speak like that. A brother-in-law desires his sister-in-law... what hypocrisy.
In his eyes, I see desire. But not only that. A cold anger. And perhaps that's what troubles me most. He doesn't look at me as mere entertainment. He looks at me as... a decision. And that idea frightens me.
Against my will... I find him attractive.
Me: "Never talk about my relationship again. And never do that again."
My voice is firmer than I feel. Anger burns in my veins. I thought he was different. That he was above all that. But maybe I was wrong.
One charmed me to marry me. The other provokes me because he can.
Thomas returns. Everything closes down.
—Thomas: "It's Mom. She's inviting us on Sunday."
Catherine. Just saying her name makes my shoulders tense. A woman who never accepted me. Who always saw me as a mistake. I swallow hard.
Me: "It's been a long time since I've seen her..."
I'm playing the part: that of the daughter-in-law delighted to hear from her mother-in-law. Again.
Mickael interjects: "She called me yesterday. I was just about to tell you."
His smile is faint. Too faint. Thomas is looking at him a little too long. I sense something between them. An old rivalry. Despite appearing as allied brothers, they've always been at odds with each other. A rivalry intensified after their father's death and by their mother's obvious favoritism toward Thomas.
And suddenly, maybe I understand something. I'm not just in the middle of a broken marriage. I'm at the center of a conflict between two brothers. And I could be the spark.
The question is:
Do I really want to play with fire?