Chapter 5

"Betrayal is the only truth that sticks."

Arthur Miller

***

Drizzle of rain started pouring over from the sky, cool breeze from outside blew its way into the slightly dimmed room. From the balcony one could hear sounds of bird's wings flapping as they took a flight back to their nest.

The sun had begun to set and dusk had arrived. Inside the Bellavance mansion, the sound of feet stomping on the wooden floor echoed throughout the room 

"What if she finds out about this?" Two figures had cornered themselves, their bodies were rubbing against each other ever so slowly, the woman who had been taking the lead stepped closer to him, wrapping one of her arms on the drape of his neck as with the swift motions of her fingers, she unbuttoned his shirt and stopped mid-way, sneaking in her hand to touch his chest. His body shivered at her touch. She tapped it gently and looked straight at his eyes.

"She would not know and even if she does, there is nothing she can do about it." She leaned in and kissed the man. Her hands were trailing across his stomach. Their kiss eventually deepened and she roughly removed his shirt. Both were in high passion, and she threw him to the bed. Both of them had been so busy with their love making session they were unaware that the door had not been locked since the beginning.

Clara Bellavance had been sitting at the library for a while, she had completely immersed herself in one of Rilke's work. Poetry books were some of her favorites, but she especially loved Rilke's love letters as they were based on his true love for Lou Andreas Salome. The interesting love triangle between Rilke, Salome, and Nietzsche had never failed to amuse her. It was rather fascinating to fathom the timing, for Salome was then married to someone else, yet one could never fully disguise their true feelings.

Her hands flipped through the last page despite only spending an hour and half on it, born as a natural reader, she went through it quickly. Earlier Marcellin had called and he had planned to come over, but up until now no one had informed her about his arrival. She wondered if he had anything he needed to attend beforehand. Standing up, she put the book back where it belonged and headed outside. Clara had thought of visiting Giselle at her room, she wanted to borrow one of her hairpin since she had lost hers, losing things was a habit she struggled to break free from.

In the household, Giselle always had the prettiest collection of hairpins and hair accessories as she often did her own hair and Clara's hair in the last. Hairdressing was one of her passion, Giselle had actually moved out from their place as of recently as she had been hired to work in a local beauty salon, but she would still visit them on the weekend, and Clara thought she would request her to do her hair a little bit before Marcellin arrive.

Besides she had not seen Giselle since this morning, the woman had arrived the previous day on Friday evening, but Clara just had not gotten the chance to see her, both of them had been busy with their own matter recently, she felt like lately her best friend had turned somewhat cold and distant toward her, she wondered if she had made any mistakes which might hurt her feelings, but as far as she recalled, she had not. They did not even have time to talk together like they used to in the past.

Clara had pretty much been locking herself in her art room for the vast majority of the time as she had become a full time painter. After graduating from college with a degree in fine arts, she had made a living for herself by selling her paintings as well as becoming a published author in poetry. Although she lived in a rather countryside part in Bordeaux, it had become so much easier for her to gain access to the city, and she held her first art exhibition recently which took a huge amount of her time and energy. Work had made her unable to spend much time at home. but she was willing to make up for it.

On her way to Giselle's old room, Clara met Margaret, the housekeeper who had taken care of her since her mother passed away. The elder woman asked her where she was heading. Clara told her she wanted to get her hair done by Giselle. Hearing the name, the woman's facial expression changed into confusion.

The woman informed her that Marcel had come earlier, but when he entered the place, he was approached by Giselle. They had been talking to each other for a few minutes in the living room before disappearing into the hallways. The two had not been seen since then. Clara raised her eyebrow.

Marcel is here? Is he with Giselle?

She stopped in front of Giselle's room, Clara raised her hand about to knock the door when she heard two people talking inside. Unfortunately, she could recognize very well whose voices they belonged to. She slammed the door open and found Giselle kissing Marcel, her fiancee on the bed. They were completely shameless and immersed in their activity that even after the door had been opened they had not realized it and continued their little make out session. Clara was catching her breath at the sight, she was flabbergasted in the worst way possible, unable to deal with their insensitivity any longer, she eventually shouted.

"What do you think you two are doing?" Both were startled by Clara's loud voice. They moved away from each other, Giselle immediately put on some night robe while Marcel jumped out from the bed and faced her. It was an utterly disgraceful sight to behold. He had the look of guilt on his face, at that very second he was questioning whether his action was right, and he was aware it was not.

"It's not like what you think, Clara." Marcel panicked. Yet he was still trying to deny the obvious, but his voice was quickly cut by a female's voice that confirmed their action.

"No, it is exactly like what you think." All of a sudden Giselle stepped forward with a smirk on her face.

This woman must have lost her mind.

A tear fell on Clara's face as she stared at Marcel, who had covered up is face with his hands and rummaged his fingers through his hair. He took a step forward but Giselle motioned her hand to stop him.

"We kissed. We made out. He is cheating on you. He chose me over you. What are you going to do about it, Clara?" She lifted her eyebrow and crossed her arms. Her tone was challenging.

Clara was silent. At the time no words could truly express the dismay she was experiencing. It was like a stab in the heart. She witnessed both betrayal and infidelity before her eyes and knowing that there was nothing she could do about it. Still, she could not help but feel a strong emotion followed by an equally strong reaction to the circumstance.

She was beyond furious, warm tears would not stop falling from her eyes. Her chest felt tight, she was hurting so much inside. A betrayal from a good friend and a loved one had hurt her beyond her own comprehension. Not to mention it came from the people she thought would have never betrayed her. Her best friend and the fiancee she loved so much, Marcellin.

In one night her world was shattered, everything she had known was a complete lies, all the laughter, all the memories, all the sisterhood bond she thought she had with Giselle. None of those were ever real. She did not need words to explain anything. She had witnessed the proof before her. What else did she need.

It was already bad enough that Giselle betrayed her, but she would have never thought her lover would do the same thing.

It was the moment she had forgotten what love was.

It was the time when her heart was locked away into a dark, deep abyss of distrust.