The Dimmed Fire In The Igloo & The Glass Shield That Won't Break

Her voice carried that recent familiar chill that somehow made the heat of her actions even more confusing. Renée found herself caught between wanting to ask if this was deliberate and needing to maintain enough composure to have an actual conversation first. Even small talk would do.

"Thank you. I was just thinking about finding the bar."

She managed, beyond proud that her voice stayed steady and didn't drop lower.

"Were you?"

Ayla's fingers lingered on the stem of the wine glass she'd left. They were close enough that Renée could see the perfect coral of her manicure. Close enough that she could easily reach out and place her hand over hers.

"Not busy with... making other arrangements?"

There was something in her tone that Renée couldn't quite parse. Though it was also familiar. An edge beneath the ice that felt almost like-

"Oh my god, you two are talking already!"

Leana practically materialized at their table to ruin the mood by enjoying it. She dragged Marcus behind her with one hand still playfully covering his eyes.

"Honey, don't look directly at Ayla, she's clearly not real. Someone just tore this look out of a magazine and airbrushed it on her. Like a hologram."

"Sweetie..."

Marcus sounded amused but slightly pained. Whether it was from not being trusted or for not getting to look, it was hard to tell.

"What? I'm just saying what everyone's thinking. That dress is stunning. If I was more petty, I'd even be mad that she stole my party."

Leana dropped into a chair at the table. Her eyes were bright with barely contained glee. She looked between the two like she was watching the season finale of her favorite show.

But the important actors were a bit frozen by the new gallery, so it might need a 'director' to step in. One who had been keeping notes!

"Oh! Renée, thank you again for taking Carmen aside to talk about keeping her clients fed right. She said that whole thing about your hospitalization really drove the point home."

The wine glass Ayla had been toying with stilled completely. The temperature around her seemed to drop several degrees as understanding crashed through her previous assumptions.

[I misunderstood her again.]

The chill in her voice when she spoke wasn't distant professionalism this time - it was purely self-directed. Though the question was given to the one she wanted to admonish her.

"You were worried about her not eating properly?"

Leana continued, 'oblivious' to the shift in atmosphere. She had seen a few glances of her wedding planner toward her old friend and knew that a little fan crush had been born.

"Yeah, you know how Renée gets about that stuff. Ever since-"

"I remember."

Ayla's voice was barely above a whisper. Of course she remembered. She'd been there, holding Renée's hand through the hospital admission. Writing checks that her family never knew about.

[It was after that… when she started to go to therapy. Without telling me.]

Renée watched the transformation happen in micro-expressions that most people would miss.

"So that's why she keeps checking on you."

Her fingers tensed against the wine glass stem before deliberately relaxing. Flitters of her eyelashes, a twist to the side of her lip for a moment, the way her fingers extended and flattened on the table. The subtle shift in her posture that made the bronze charmeuse whisper against shoulder.

The term 'other arrangements' popped in her head once more.

[Oh. She thought I was...]

The realization that Ayla must have jumped to some wrong conclusion about Carmen made several things click into place. The calculated entrance. The precise angle of that devastating slit as she stood there. Especially the way she'd practically poured herself across the table to deliver wine.

It wasn't *just* about revenge for showing up in the suit after all, as Renée was trying to tell herself. Leana was still chattering away, but the author could only focus on how Ayla's eyes had changed.

That chill had given way to something rawer, closer to the look she'd worn years ago in that hospital room. Warm and scared. When she'd stayed and waited at her side despite Renée's attempts to push her away and not waste her study time.

"I should..."

Ayla started to stand up, but a word came out of Renée's mouth before she could stop it.

"Stay."

Both of them made a fist, as if fighting with their inclination to flee. The twin spirals of their little dance around each other had intersected again. Whether talking would hasten the distance to zero or make this moment of connection reverse their courses entirely…

"Please."

Marcus chose that moment to tug at his wife's arm.

"Leana, I think I see your aunt looking for us."

"What? No, I want to-"

She caught his meaningful look. The one that said he wasn't going to play along anymore. The woman smiled and nodded. He was usually right when he pulled her away from 'danger'.

"Oh! Yes, absolutely, Aunt... uh, Martha needs us. Right now. Immediately."

They weren't subtle about their retreat, but Renée was grateful nonetheless. She gestured to the chair sitting next to her, watching as Ayla lowered herself into it with care. Her posture was now rigid enough to make that flowing dress actually look painted on.

Like one of the street performers that pretended to be a metallic statue.

"The thing with Carmen was…"

Renée started, then stopped. Immediately, she knew that a retreat was in progress. But once it started, there was no calling it back. The troops were in motion.

[Coward.]

Even now, with years of maturity between then and now… explaining herself to Ayla felt like trying to swallow glass. This was the woman she'd hidden her struggles from the most. The woman who would have moved mountains to help her if she'd known it all.

And probably crushed herself under the rubble falling off in the process.

"I only privately told her about that time. As a cautionary tale. About what happens when you forget to eat because you're… too busy taking care of everything else."

The silence that followed felt heavy with all the things she wasn't saying. All the explanations she wanted to give but couldn't quite force past that old instinct to protect Ayla from her broken pieces.

The shards she swallowed down earlier were her own.

She was happy with how she managed her PTSD and OSFED now. Even after everything, that need to shield her ex from them remained. No matter what her therapist told her or what she told herself. 

She still couldn't convince herself to explain the true source to anyone. The one person she had thought she would… was the one person in front of her. Yet her heart clenched when she considered it.

[Coward.]