The romantic slideshow flickering on the giant projector screen suddenly vanished, replaced by the high-definition, crystal-clear photos Clara had taken that afternoon. There was Marcus by the pool, his hand tracing his assistant’s shoulder. There they were, sharing a lingering, intimate kiss over cocktails. The assistant’s smile instantly evaporated, her face twisting into absolute horror. Marcus froze, the expensive wine glass slipping from his fingers and shattering against the stone floor.
His face turned an ashen, ghostly white under the projector’s harsh glow. Right at that exact second, the heavy double doors of the private pavilion swung open. Walking into the dining area, dressed in their finest attire, were Marcus’s deeply traditional, old-school parents. Clara had called them an hour prior, delivering a carefully crafted lie that Marcus had organized an exclusive anniversary dinner to celebrate family.
Instead, they stepped into the pavilion just as the screen brightly illuminated the undeniable, giant evidence of their son’s infidelity. The silence in the room became absolutely deafening as the parents stared at the screen, then at their trembling son.