Fake and Deceptive

Beatrice

I couldn't believe what I saw; my eyes would never deceive me. The man sitting at the restaurant table, to which I had just arrived with Timothy and Andrew, was undoubtedly Edward. The woman beside him was equally unmistakable, with her aristocratic posture and her always elevated nose, typical of the woman with whom Edward had had a relationship and who had never managed to overcome the end. The fact that they were having dinner together, so long after, spoke volumes about it.

Apparently, Andrew didn't notice Edward's presence, but Timothy seemed quite attentive.

"Why did you suddenly become so sad, Beatrice?"

I looked at the boy next to me, surprised by the precise question about what I was feeling. I felt a bit guilty for letting my feelings show on a night that should be a celebration.

"It was just a passing discomfort," I said, blatantly lying. The guilt increased a bit. "But I'm feeling better now, don't worry."

Timothy looked at me attentively, probably trying to figur