Chapter 4: Truth

The air was thick with memories that suddenly felt like lies.

Marcie’s heels clicked against the hardwood as she moved through the foyer. Her gaze swept over the familiar space. The framed photos on the walls, the neatly arranged furniture, the little touches she had added to make it theirs.

'Ours', she had thought.

Now it felt like a stage set.

A place she had poured love into while Rafael lived an entirely separate life beyond these walls.

Her stomach twisted violently.

She couldn’t stay here.

Not even another night.

Her body moved on instinct as she rushed upstairs, nearly stumbling into the bedroom. The room looked the same as it had this morning. Her half-finished laundry was still there, the bed still made, while sunlight filtered through the curtains in soft, indifferent beams.

Marcie’s breath hitched.

How could the world look so normal when everything inside her was collapsing?

She went straight to the closet and yanked it open. Her hands were shaking as she grabbed a suitcase from the floor. The zipper sounded too loud in the quiet room.

She began throwing clothes inside without folding them, without thinking. Dresses, sweaters, anything her fingers touched. Her movements were frantic, uneven, driven by one desperate thought and that was to leave immediately before he comes back.

Before he speaks. Before he ruins her further.

Her eyes burned, but she refused to cry. Crying would mean admitting how deeply she had been shattered.

She paused only once, her gaze catching on Rafael’s suits hanging neatly beside her clothes. Perfectly pressed, perfectly ordered...just like him.

A bitter laugh escaped her throat, broken and humorless.

Even his wardrobe was a lie.

She turned away sharply, reaching for her drawer, shoving essentials into the suitcase. Her hands kept moving even as her mind screamed.

Divorce.

The word felt unreal.

She had never imagined it. Not once.

And yet… what else was there?

Suddenly, a soft sound echoed from downstairs.

The unmistakable click of the front door opening.

Marcie froze.

Her entire body went rigid, breath catching painfully in her throat.

Footsteps followed, fast and urgent.

Then his voice echoed.

“Marcie!”

Her stomach dropped.

He was here.

His footsteps pounded up the stairs, each one closing the distance between them, heavy with urgency. The moment he stepped into the bedroom, he froze, his eyes sweeping over the open suitcase, the clothes scattered across the bed, the unmistakable proof of what she was doing.

“Marcie… where are you going?” Rafael’s voice cracked, his brows knitting together as if he couldn’t comprehend the sight in front of him.

Marceline didn’t stop. She kept folding, stuffing, moving, because if she paused, she might break. Her hands trembled, but her voice came out firm, edged with something cold she didn’t know she possessed.

“I’m leaving you.” She finally looked up, her eyes sharp with pain. “You dared cheat on me… and don’t even think of explaining it away. I may only be a housewife, Rafael, but I am not stupid. I saw everything.”

Rafael’s mouth opened, but no words came.

Marcie’s chest rose unevenly as the bitterness spilled out, years of quiet questions suddenly finding their answer in the cruelest way possible.

“That’s why you always avoided it,” she continued, her voice shaking now. “That’s why you acted irritated whenever I talked about having a child. Because you already have one. With another woman.”

Her laugh was hollow, broken.

“You bastard.” She swallowed hard, forcing the words through the ache in her throat. “I’m leaving you. I want a divorce.”

She turned her back on him again, continuing to pack as if the act of leaving could somehow erase what she had witnessed.

“Marcie… please.” Rafael stepped forward, desperation pouring from him. “It’s not— it’s not what you think.”

She stilled for a fraction of a second, but she didn’t turn.

“I was only there because of the child,” he rushed out, voice uneven. “She… she was my ex-girlfriend. I found out she was pregnant before we got married. I kept it from you because I was afraid… afraid you wouldn’t marry me if you knew.”

Marcie’s hands clenched around a sweater so tightly her knuckles whitened.

“But I love you,” Rafael said, his voice breaking. “I still chose you. I still choose you now. Please… don’t go.”

Marceline scoffed, disbelief sharp and cutting. Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes shining with something dangerously close to tears.

“You’re a lawyer,” she whispered, each word heavy with contempt. “And you did this?”

Her lips trembled, but her gaze did not.

“Isn’t this more than enough reason for me to divorce you? I should’ve never married you.”

Rafael flinched as though she had struck him.

Marcie grabbed the suitcase and walked past him without hesitation.

But Rafael...Rafael, who had been so gentle, so careful, so controlled... suddenly moved.

His hand shot out, gripping her arm tightly enough to stop her in place.

Marcie froze.

Rafael’s breathing was harsh behind her, his voice low, stripped of its softness.

“…You’re not leaving me.”

Marcie went utterly still. The grip around her arm felt wrong. Slowly, she turned her head, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Let go of me.”

Rafael’s jaw clenched. “No.”

The single word was enough to make her stomach twist.

“You don’t get to stop me,” she said, her voice trembling now, fury bleeding into fear.

“I didn’t lie,” he snapped.

Marcie laughed, sharp and broken. “You omitted the truth." Her voice rose. “How do you think I felt when I walked into your office and saw a woman stroking your hair while your son slept on your chest? Don’t insult me.”

His eyes flashed. “I was protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” Marcie repeated, incredulous. “You robbed me of the truth. You robbed me of a choice.”

Rafael stepped closer, his presence suddenly suffocating. “I chose you.”

“No. No. Don't play games with me. You chose yourself,” she shot back. “You chose to trap me in a marriage built on secrets.”

His grip tightened.

Marcie flinched. “Stop...Rafael, you’re hurting me.”

Something in his face cracked, rage and desperation twisting together.

“I did everything right,” he said, voice shaking. “I gave you everything. I loved you. I—”

“You loved me?” Marcie whispered, tears finally spilling. “Love doesn’t look like this."

“Don’t say that,” he growled.

“Then what is it?” she cried. “Because this isn’t the man I married!”

Those words snapped the remaining sanity left in Rafael.

A sharp sound followed after he lifted his hand.

Marcie stumbled back, her hand flying to her face, shock swallowing her whole. The world tilted, her ears ringing, her heartbeat roaring louder than anything else.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Rafael stared at her as if he couldn’t believe what he’d done. But what's done is done. He would rather do this than watch her leave him.

Marcie’s fingers trembled as she touched her mouth.

When she looked down, she saw blood.

A small, unmistakable stain against her skin.

Her breath broke.

“You…” she whispered in fear. “You actually laid your hand on me."

Rafael took a step forward, frantic. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” she choked out, backing away. “Don’t come near me.”

The man in front of her was no longer her husband.

He was a stranger wearing Rafael Gray’s face.

And Marcie realized, with sickening clarity, that she had never truly known who she married at all.