Chapter 3: Suffocating

“I… shouldn’t be here.”

The words felt distant, as though someone else had spoken them.

Before Rafael could move, before the woman could say anything, Marcie’s body reacted on instinct alone. She turned sharply, almost stumbling as she backed away from the doorway. Her heart hammered so violently in her chest that it made her dizzy.

The receptionist, startled by her sudden movement, blinked in confusion as Marcie rushed past.

“Ma’am? Mrs. Gray...what’s wrong?”

Marcie didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her throat was too tight while her lungs were refusing to draw in enough air. Her hands trembled around the box of cookies, the ribbon cutting into her fingers as if it were mocking her.

She had come here to apologize.

To smooth over something small.

To bring sweetness into his day.

How stupid.

How unbearably stupid.

The hallway blurred as she walked faster, almost running. Her heels clicked too loudly against the carpet. Behind her, she could hear the receptionist’s hurried footsteps, and the anxious softness in her voice.

“Mrs. Gray—”

But the pressure in Marcie’s chest was unbearable, the humiliation, the shock, the sickening collapse of everything she thought she knew. Her fingers loosened.

The box slipped.

Then she threw it.

It hit the floor with a dull thud, the lid popping open as cookies scattered across the pristine carpet, crumbs and chocolate chips staining perfection. A small gasp rose from nearby employees, heads turning, and whispers began before anyone even understood.

Marcie didn’t stop.

Not until she heard it the sound of hurried footsteps behind her, far heavier, far more desperate.

“Marcie!”

Rafael’s voice cracked through the air, sharp with panic.

She turned her head just enough to see him rushing out of his office, his expression undone, his suit rumpled. The composed lawyer was now vanishing into something frantic and human. And behind him, the woman followed, her face tight, her posture tense, no longer resembling a mere client sitting politely on a couch.

In that single glance, Marcie understood.

This wasn’t an accident.

This wasn’t harmless.

This was real.

“Marcie, listen to me!” Rafael called again, louder now, drawing the attention of the entire floor.

Marcie’s stomach twisted violently.

Listen?

To what?

To explanations that should have come years ago?

To lies wrapped in tenderness?

Her eyes burned, but she refused to let the tears fall here, in front of strangers, in front of him.

She kept walking, faster, while her hands clenched at her sides.

“Marcie!” Rafael’s voice broke again, closer now, almost reaching her.

But she never looked back.

There was no reason to.

All she could think of was leaving...leaving this building, leaving this man, leaving behind the life she had believed in with her whole heart.

Because whatever this was…

It was not the marriage she thought she had.

And she could not stay long enough to watch it destroy her completely.

Marceline stumbled into the parking lot as though she were moving through water. Her body was heavy with shock while her mind raced far too fast. Her hands fumbled for her keys, fingers trembling so badly she nearly dropped them twice. All she could hear was the roar of her own pulse, the distant echo of footsteps behind her growing closer.

She reached her car and practically threw herself into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut with a force that made the entire vehicle shudder. Instinct took over. Before she could even breathe, she locked the doors, the sharp click sounding louder than it should have in the confined space.

A second later, Rafael was there.

He appeared at her window like a nightmare she couldn’t wake from. His face was pale and his eyes wide were with panic. He knocked hard against the glass, once, twice, again, as though sheer desperation could break through the barrier between them.

“Marcie!” he pleaded, his voice muffled through the window. “Open the door—please!”

His hand moved to the handle, tugging, forcing it, but the lock held firm. He looked frantic, nothing like the composed man she knew, nothing like the husband who always had the right words. Now he was only a man unraveling.

Marceline’s chest rose sharply, her breath uneven. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to look at him fully, refusing to give him even that small piece of her.

Her fingers slid into the ignition.

The engine turned over.

Rafael’s knocking became sharper, more desperate, his palm flattening against the glass as he leaned closer.

“Marcie, listen to me! Just listen—!”

But she couldn’t.

If she listened, she might break. If she looked at him, she might hesitate. And hesitation was dangerous, because it would mean staying long enough for him to twist her heart.

Her jaw tightened.

She stepped on the gas.

The car lurched forward, pulling away from him as his hand slipped off the window. Rafael stumbled back, calling her name one last time, his voice cracking with helplessness.

Marceline didn’t turn her head.

She didn’t give him a glance.

She drove.

And with every inch of distance she put between them, the life she thought she had built shattered further behind her, crumbling into something she could never return to.

She didn’t even remember the drive home.

She only remembered the way her hands gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles ached, the way the city blurred past her window as though the world had decided to move on without her. Her chest felt hollow, her breaths shallow, each inhale tasting like something sharp and bitter.

By the time she pulled into the driveway, her body was trembling.

This house had always been her refuge.

The place she returned to after long days, the place where Rafael’s laughter once filled the rooms, where mornings smelled like coffee and warmth, where she had believed so completely that she was safe.

But as she stepped inside, it now felt different.

The silence wasn’t peaceful.

It was suffocating.