Chapter 2 Crossing Lines Together

(Mia)

“No.”

He says the word calmly. Immediate. Final.

“I won’t do that.” His eyes smolder with anger.

My hope shrivels again, but I don’t retreat.

“Are you scared you might catch feelings for me?”

“I’m not scared of anything,” he scoffs.

“You can’t man-up enough to have sex with me in case you break some damn unwritten guilt code.”

He looks away for a second, then back.

“You are Yara’s little sister. I can’t see you like I see other women.”

“And that is what you’ve been telling yourself for three years,” I say quietly.

“When everything collapsed, you stepped in and married me. Do you really think I was going to climb into bed with you while I was still wrecked over your sister?”

I say nothing.

“I was not going to use you like that. I know what you sacrificed for me. I had to protect you.”

I stare at him.

“I’m an adult, Calder. I don’t need protection. You rejected me.”

His voice drops. “I kept my distance because I was trying not to damage you.”

“I can handle my own damage, Calder.”

“I don’t see the point in this one-month thing.”

“Because you might fall in love with me?” I challenge.

“I won’t fall in love with you.”

“Then prove it.”

The silence goes on so long I can hear my own breathing.

Then he says, “fine.”

I don’t move. I think if I move, he’ll take it back. “You really mean it?”

“Tomorrow night,” he says. “I’ll move into the master bedroom.”

Excitement rises in me. I hold it together.

“And the woman from dinner today?” I ask.

He goes quiet again.

“I won’t see her during this month,” he says after a moment. “If that is what you want.”

“It is.”

Then he adds, “but Mia.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t do this expecting more than what you asked for.”

I say nothing.

“I am agreeing to a month,” he says. “Not promising a different ending.”

“Fair enough.”

He watches me for a moment longer.

Then he says, “Okay. One month.”

“One month,” I repeat.

And just like that, the line between us is still there.

Only now we have both agreed to cross it.

***

I don’t waste the next day.

In the morning, I meet Lena at the studio.

Blueprints cover the table between us, layered with annotations and revisions.

We work in focused silence, arguing over details, revising dimensions, fine-tuning materials.

For several hours, my world narrows to measurements and structure. Work always does that.

Excitement rises inside me. This design is amazing. I’ve missed throwing myself into a project.

“This could actually win,” Lena says eventually, leaning back. “If we get shortlisted, Paris is basically guaranteed.”

“I know,” I say. “And you were right. I need to kickstart my life again. If we win, we can move to Paris together.”

She watches me carefully. “You’re really serious about leaving?”

“I am,” I reply.

She nods. “If we win, you can’t back out on me then.”

I shake my head. “I won’t. You have my word.”

***

That evening, I go home early.

I cook.

Nothing elaborate, just dishes Calder likes. Things I’ve never had the chance to make for him. I always eat alone here.

The table is set neatly. Two plates. Two glasses. Candles placed with careful symmetry.

It feels strange, preparing for a first date with my own husband three years into our marriage.

I check the time.

Six thirty.

He should be home soon.

The doorbell rings and my heart jumps.

Logic tells me he wouldn’t ring his own doorbell. Still, I smooth my hair, take a breath, and open the door.

She stands there.

The blonde woman from last night.

For one stupid second, I can’t move.

What is she doing here?

No. Better question. Why does she look so comfortable?

She smiles when she sees me, her gaze flicking past my shoulder into the luxury apartment.

I hate how quickly my mind asks the question.

Has she been here before?

“So,” she says lightly, “you must be Mia.”

I make myself hold her gaze.

“And you are?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer.

Instead, she steps inside as if she belongs there. “This place is impressive,” she says, glancing around. “It will do for a start.”

Her focus lands on the dining table. The candles.

She smiles and looks back at me. “Oh? Planning something special?”

I don’t close the door. I’m not letting her think she is welcome here.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I say calmly. “It’s none of your business.”

She laughs. “Still clinging to the wife title. He’ll never love you. He loves me.”

“I am his wife.”

She turns to look at me then, amusement flashing in her eyes. “Legally, sure. But don’t deceive yourself.”

She walks closer, her perfume drifting through the air between us. I know that perfume.

Yara wore it. Damn, she is using every trick in the book to secure Calder. He can’t be that blind, surely.

“You’re just filling a gap,” she continues, raising an eyebrow. “Like the others before me. I’m the real deal.”

The others waited in the background. They smiled politely, avoided my gaze.

This woman doesn’t. She openly challenges me.

Yes, Calder is different with her. But she isn’t Yara. He will always love Yara.

This woman’s the fool if she doesn’t realize that.

She waves her arm to indicate the dining table.

“Do you really think making dinner will change anything?” she asks. “Calder’s already made his choice.”

She leans closer. “He chose me,” she adds firmly. “Not you.”

I meet her gaze. “Then why are you here now instead of with him?”

Her smile flickers.

“You don’t know him,” she snaps. “He told me everything.”

“Everything?” I echo.

She nods. “That this marriage was a mistake. That you mean nothing to him. You’re like his kid sister.”

I straighten. I could smack those words out of her mouth.

“And yet,” I say evenly, determined to stay calm, “here you are… acting all thirsty.”

“This month won’t change what Calder and I have,” she says coldly.

So he told her. That’s why she’s here. He’s said he won’t see her for a month.

I smile. “What you don’t understand is, you are just as much a substitute as the rest of them.”

“You aren’t even attractive to him. Three years and he hasn’t touched you.” She looks me up and down with a sneer. “No wonder.”

She turns and walks out, slamming the door behind her.

***

Seven o’clock.

Then eight.

Why isn’t he here? Maybe he’s changed his mind.

I look at the table.

The candles burn steadily, wax dripping down their sides.

I open another bottle of wine and push the empty one aside.

My phone remains dark. I don’t message him. We’ve never messaged each other with our movements. He just comes and goes as he pleases.

I think he has definitely changed his mind. He’s probably with her right now.

I pour myself another glass of wine.

Then another.

May as well enjoy this expensive wine.

Sometime past midnight, my thoughts blur. Everything blurs.

But dancing always cheers me up. So I crank the music and dance.

I think I hear the front door open.

I slow my dancing and squint through my double vision.

“Calder?” I call out.

No answer.

Maybe I imagined it. I go back to dancing alone.

Who cares if he is here? He’s probably come back to say he changed his mind about the month.

I asked for thirty days like it could fix three years of being overlooked.

But I didn’t ask for forever. Because I know he will never give me that.

One month isn’t too much to ask.

One month to feel wanted by my own husband.

One month to stop feeling like the unwanted sister standing in someone else’s place.

One month to know if there is anything real between us before he walks away.

He’ll never see me as a woman if I keep acting like a child he has to handle carefully.

It is time I showed him exactly how grown up I am.