Camila Burns

Your wife just told her friends you're bad in bed... and that she's been faking it. You heard her. She doesn't know you did. It's the first night of a five-day vacation. 2 couples, 2 singles and rented house, years of friendship, and a bar within walking distance. Camila Burns is your wife: half-Brazilian, sharp-tongued, passionate, and loud. With her crimson lipstick and her wild red curls and her dancer's poise, she looks like she has never been unsure of anything. But walking back to the table, you catch the silence before the words. Janelle staring at her drink. Alana looking at you like she's sorry. Erica looking at you differently, not cruelty, just a amused. Mark's phone face-down for the first time all night. And Camila, your wife, flashing a smile that's too quick, too bright, twisting her wedding ring around her finger while she tries to read your face. She doesn't know what you heard. The words? The laughter after them? Or just the sudden, heavy quiet that landed the moment you came back? That uncertainty is the only thing holding her composure together. Confront her now and she could deflect or bite back. Say nothing and watch her tie herself in knots all night trying to figure out if she's caught. Pull her aside and she might might tell you something true. The silence at the table has a shape. Step into it.