LOGINMadelynI woke up so late wondering why I didn't hear the alarm. My hand searched for my phone on the nightstand where I had plugged before going to bed. I noticed it was dead.Not low battery, not hanging on with one percent, just completely off. I pressed the power button twice before I realized what was wrong. I reached for my charger on the bedside table out of habit, my fingers brushing empty wood.I frowned and looked properly this time. No charger. I bent down, checked the floor, checked the other side of the bed, even pulled the drawer open though I already knew I did not keep it there. I stood up slowly, irritation creeping in.I never misplaced my charger. Never.I walked into the bathroom, checked the counter, the shelf, even the socket near the mirror. Nothing. I went back into the guest room, scanned it again, then stood still, my chest tightening.My phone buzzed suddenly when it powered on again, just enough battery left to show missed calls. Three from the office. Two
DominicI stood outside the guest room door longer than I should have.My hand lifted once, then dropped back to my side. I could still hear Leanaās crying downstairs, the soft broken sounds she made as she sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket I had handed her without thinking. The cut on Madelynās leg replayed in my head too, but every time I tried to focus on that, Leanaās tears pushed forward, louder, messier, demanding attention.āShe didnāt mean it,ā Leana had said through sobs. āI know she hates me, Dominic. I feel it every time she looks at me.āI told myself Madelyn was tired. I told myself she had been distant for weeks now. I told myself all of that as if repeating it enough times would make the tight feeling in my chest go away.It didnāt.I raised my hand again and knocked.No answer.I knocked a second time, softer. āMadelyn,ā I said. āPlease. Can we talk?āSilence.I leaned my forehead against the door, closed my eyes briefly, then straightened. āIām not here to fight,
MadelynI walked into the house already drained, my shoulders tight from the long day and my head heavy with thoughts I did not want to entertain. All I wanted was a hot bath and sleep. Nothing else. I did not want to have a conversation. I did not want explanations. I did not want to pretend.I took off my shoes by the door and started up the staircase slowly, one hand on the railing, my bag hanging loosely from my shoulder. The house smelled like food, the house I used to love coming back to, the peace had disappeared. Somewhere in the living room, the television was on low, the sound muted enough to be background noise. Dominic was still outside, I knew that much. I could hear his voice faintly, probably on a call, probably wrapping something up before coming in.I was halfway up the stairs when Leana appeared from above, descending with a tray in her hands. Plates. A glass. A bowl. She was not rushing. She was not distracted. Her eyes were on me. I saw it clearly, the way her gaze
DominicI was still in my office when the last meeting ended, sitting behind my desk with the lights dimmed, my phone face down beside my laptop. The room was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner and the sound of my fingers tapping once, twice, against the wood. I wasnāt working anymore. I hadnāt been for a while.All I could think about was the fact that I hadnāt seen Madelynās face properly in days.Before I woke up, she was already gone. Iād roll over and the bed would be empty, the space beside me cold, like she hadnāt been there at all after dragging her there from the guest room. When I came home, sometimes her car wasnāt in the driveway. Other times it was, but she still wasnāt around. Overtime. Late meetings. Extra projects. Any excuse not to be home.Leana said Madelyn was being cruel to her.Madelyn is a nice person, and I can fully understand why she acts that way towards Leana, stillā¦acting that way to an innocent baby was too extreme. Leana said Madelyn liv
MadelynI got home late that evening, my body aching from sitting through meetings and pretending all day that nothing was wrong. My heels kicked softly against the floor as I stepped inside, dropping my bag by the console table. All I wanted was a shower and my bed, something quiet enough to dull my thoughts, when I heard voices upstairs. They were low and busy, the sound of drawers opening and closing, fabric shifting, someone moving around like they belonged there.That was strange.No one touched my things without telling me first.I went upstairs slowly, my hand tightening around the railing as I reached the hallway. The door to my bedroom was open. Wide open. I stopped before I even crossed the threshold because what I saw refused to settle properly in my head.One of the maids was inside my room.She was packing.My wardrobe doors were pulled apart, hangers clinking softly as clothes were folded and placed aside. They were not my clothes. I recognized the fabrics immediately. P
Dominic The week passed like a slow bleed I could not stop. It did not rush. It did not explode. It just dragged itself through every day, every hour, every quiet moment where Madelyn should have been close enough for me to feel her presence. Instead, I felt the gap she left behind. It pressed against my chest when I woke up. It followed me into meetings. It sat with me when I ate and tasted nothing. I had lived through injuries that healed faster than this.She still lived in the same house. She still worked in the same company. Yet somehow, she had pulled so far away from me that it felt like we were separated by cities instead of walls.That morning, the office was loud in the usual way. Phones ringing. Assistants talking in hushed voices. Papers sliding across desks. The steady hum of the building doing what it always did, moving forward whether I was falling apart or not. I sat behind my desk pretending to focus on reports, nodding when someone spoke to me, signing where I was t







