Masuk
Stacey’s POV:
“Okay, that’s it for today,” I concluded, and the students immediately got up to leave. “Remember that this assignment accounts for twenty percent of your total grade, so you better research your topic carefully.” I called out to the impatient figures as they scurried out the door.
I smiled to myself as I heard them groan in reply. I wasn’t the type of Professor who reveled in overworking students, but these were third-year college students, and I had to make sure they were fully prepared for their final English exams.
I picked up my laptop and was about to exit the lecture hall when a voice stopped me. “I enjoyed your class as always, Mrs. Smith.”
I turned to see the warmest shade of brown orbs staring back at me. The tall man had on a white collar shirt that perfectly complemented his smooth dark skin and flaunted his muscular biceps.
“I’m happy to hear that, Noah.” I gave him a warm smile.
His eyes lingered on my features, trailing down from my eyes to my lips and then to my chest, where his gaze remained fixed. I followed his eyes to see a small part of my cleavage exposed as a result of the unhooked button at the top of my blouse.
I quickly adjusted the material and covered up the open skin, but Noah’s focus remained unwavering.
I shifted uncomfortably and cleared my throat. “Noah?”
His body flinched, as if I just broke him out of a trance. His focus darted back to my eyes, and his usual demeanor returned. “See you next class, Mrs.” He rushed out the words and quickly jabbed out the hall.
That was…unusual.
Noah was the most popular boy and the star basketball player of the school. The school took pride in the recognition the basketball team had given them, and as a result, Noah and his teammates were treated like mini gods.
They only took basic general courses and were freely allowed to miss most of their classes to focus on training. Lecturers had no power against them, so we just learned to let them be. But Noah was different from the others.
Even though he was the star player, he never missed any of my classes. And I don’t know if it was in my head, but most times I could feel him staring at me so intently in class that my neck grew hot.
I shook my head, trying to physically dispel my thoughts of a twenty-year-old college student for any reason watching his thirty-two-year-old professor. I walked out of the lecture hall to where my car was parked and started the car’s engine, heading for home.
When I got home, the sunset had already painted the skyline a pale tint of golden orange. My body ached, and all I wanted to do was run a cold shower and head to bed.
As I reached the stairs, I heard strange noises coming from somewhere upstairs. I paused to listen. “Who could that be?”
Liam had told me he would be going on a two-day business trip this morning, and he assured me he would be dropping off Tessa, our daughter, at his mother’s place because I wouldn’t be home. The college was supposed to host a day-long conference, but it ended up getting canceled. So that meant there wasn’t supposed to be anyone at home.
It must be that a burglar broke in. You will need to get something to defend yourself.
Yes! I searched around where I stood for something I could weaponize. My best option was the ceramic flower vase propped up by my side. I wrapped my hands firmly against the body and made my way up the stairs.
Someone is definitely ending up getting very hurt today.
I traced the sound up to our bedroom door. Now that I was closer, I could hear the sound more clearly. It wasn’t just any sound; it was moaning. It actually sounded like the people at the other end of the door were making out.
Anger surged to my head. How could you break into someone’s house and have sex in the person’s bedroom? You had to be…
“Fuck me, Liam.” The muffled voice of a woman at the other end drew me out of my thoughts.
Was I hearing things, or did that woman just say my husband’s name?
You definitely heard right. She did.
No! No!! I must have misheard.
I pushed open the room’s door with full force, propelled by the conviction to prove myself wrong. But when the door swung open, my eyes widened in shock at the sight I saw displayed before me.
Right there on our matrimonial bed lay Liam, and on top of him was Agatha, her naked boobs and ass on full display as she was riding my husband.
They both turned around to face me simultaneously. Liam’s face morphed into fear, like that of a child who was caught being naughty, but Agatha’s expression remained firm, smug even, as she rolled away from Liam’s waist and covered herself with the blue duvet.
What…is going on here?” I stammered, my mouth quivering with each word.
Do you still have to ask? It’s plain as day that he’s cheating on you. AGAIN!
About two years ago, I found some romantic messages on Liam’s phone between him and some woman. When I confronted him about it, he confessed to having an emotional entanglement with the woman but swore they only texted and never did anything physical. He promised to stop, and he did. Or so I thought.
“Stacey,” he called me by my name, not ‘darling’ or ‘honey’ like he usually does. “I can explain.”
“Oh please, there’s nothing to explain.” Agatha sharply interjected. She looked at me, eyeing me up and down, like I was covered in filth, before turning back to face Liam. “Will you tell her about it or should I?”
Tell me about what? What the hell was this woman even talking about? And why does she look so confident?
I didn’t allow myself anytime to mull over the questions popping in my head. I was appalled at how unbothered Agatha looked and her audacity to tell my own husband to divorce me even when she was the one caught having an illicit affair.
Her effrontery made me go into a spiral rage, and I rushed to where she sat on the King-sized bed.
Before Agatha could react, I grabbed her by her hair and pulled her up from the bed, dragging her towards the door.
“Let me go,” she screamed as she tried to fight back, but my grip only tightened around her wavy brown curls. “I’ll let you go as soon as you’re out my door.” I retorted.
I was only a few inches away from the doorknob when I felt a sharp burning sting across my cheeks. “Let her go right now.” Liam demanded as he pulled Agatha away from my grip.
I blinked hot tears, and my hand reflexively cupped the side of my cheek where Liam slapped me. I looked at him through blurry eyes. “You slapped me because of this homewrecker?”
His jaw tensed, and his eyes turned cold. “Call her that again, and this time it won’t just be a slap you’d be receiving.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Liam had never spoken to me like this before, much less raised his hand to hit me. And now, he was threatening to do even worse, all because of Agatha, my surrogate.
Agatha was my surrogate for birthing Tessa. Four years ago, Liam and I were involved in an accident as a result of Liam’s drunk driving. In the heat of the moment, I had taken control of the car and managed to swerve off the road just before we got hit by an incoming truck, but in the process, our car collided with a tree.
Because I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, there was a strong impact of the dashboard against my lower abdomen that caused damage to my uterus, and as a result, the doctors said I won’t be able to carry my own child.
Liam and I tried for more than a year, but the pregnancies always ended in miscarriages. The emotional and psychological turmoil got too much, and we decided to go for a surrogate instead.
It’s been three years since Agatha helped carry my little Tessa in her womb. The agreement was for both parties to never meet up again after Agatha gave birth. When she did, we paid her, and we all went our separate ways, satisfied. So I was genuinely confused as to what she was now doing back here.
After three years, why was my surrogate here? Naked on my matrimonial bed with my husband by her side?
“Tell her, babe,” Agatha nudged Liam’s shoulder, prompting him to spill the words she had been itching to hear.
Liam faced me, his eyes still cold, but with a renewed vigor. “Stacey, Agatha is pregnant for me. She’d be having a son like I always wanted, so let’s get a divorce.”
Blood drained from my body, and my legs buckled under my weight as I staggered backward, almost falling. I stare at the man I’ve been married to for the last six years of my life, dumbfounded by every single word of his last sentence.
“What?”
Stacey’s POV:I stared at my reflection in the rearview mirror for what felt like too long. My lip gloss was still intact. My earrings matched. No mascara smudges. From the outside, I looked... composed.Inside? I felt like a house of cards standing in a wind tunnel.The parking lot was mostly empty, except for a few scattered cars and a man in a hoodie pacing while talking on the phone. The air carried the promise of rain, thick and weighty, like it too was holding something back. I took a breath and stepped out of the car, heels crunching softly against the gravel.Liam’s apartment complex hadn’t changed, same chipped staircase railing, same ivy climbing the corners like time was trying to reclaim it. I knew the route by muscle memory, even though it had been months. Two lefts, up the stairs, third door on the right.I knocked before I could talk myself out of it.The door opened sooner than I expected. Liam stood there in sweatpants and a faded T-shirt, holding a towel like he’d ju
Stacey’s POV“You’re sure about this?”Michael's voice was low, deliberate, and yet somehow still laced with disbelief as he leaned forward in his chair. The coffee between us had gone cold, neither of us had touched it. The air outside the window of his condo was clear, the distant hum of the city felt far away in that quiet room.I didn’t answer right away. My hands rested flat on the polished wood of his kitchen table, as if bracing myself. His question was fair. I hadn’t exactly been consistent lately. One day I was disappearing. The next, I was reappearing. My feelings toward him had been guarded, tangled in the remnants of another love I hadn’t quite untangled myself from.But this time, my answer was ready.“I’m sure.”His brows lifted just slightly. Not in triumph. Not in smugness. But something softer. Careful. Measured.“You’re really saying yes,” he said, his tone cautious like he didn’t want to spook the moment.I nodded, my fingers curling slightly into my palms.“Yes,” I
Stacey’s POV:The silence after the bomb I dropped on him was the loudest thing in the café.Noah was still sitting there, his hands clenched tightly on either side of the table, like he was anchoring himself in place. His eyes bore into mine, confused, hurt, desperate. Waiting for a punchline. Waiting for me to say I was kidding. That this was all some cruel joke.But I didn’t smile. I didn’t blink. I didn’t move.Because I couldn’t.“I don’t understand,” he said finally, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re breaking up with me… why?”I looked down at the table, tracing the rim of my tea cup, feeling my throat close up.“You deserve the truth,” I said, my voice calm. Too calm. It scared even me. “I never loved you.”It took a moment for my words to sink in.Noah flinched like I’d slapped him. He leaned back slowly, blinking like he was trying to process the sentence. His jaw clenched, and for a second, he laughed. A dry, disbelieving kind of laugh.“What are you talking about?” he sai
Stacey’s POV:I had been thinking.Thinking more than sleeping.More than breathing, even.It was the kind of thinking that curled up in your chest and stayed there like smoke, coiling around your ribs, making everything feel tight. Suffocating. Every time I closed my eyes, the world didn’t stop. It just got louder. The silence echoed all the louder with the words Noah’s mom had said, and with all the things I hadn’t said back.By the time I left the cabin that day, the wind had shifted, and something inside me had shifted too.I wasn’t sure of everything. Not even close.But I was sure of one thing.And I wasn’t turning back.I kept that certainty tucked deep inside me like a hidden flame. I didn’t touch it too often, afraid it might flicker out if I examined it too closely. Some things are better when you don’t look them in the eye.I called Noah that evening.I hadn’t seen him in over a week, hadn’t answered any of his texts, ignored his missed calls. I couldn’t face him. Not when
Stacey’s POV:The wooden slats of the front porch creaked under our weight, but neither of us paid them any mind. A late afternoon hush had settled around the cabin, the kind of silence that hung heavy and expectant, like the air before a storm. The forest was calm. A soft breeze rustled through the pine trees and carried the scent of earth, pine needles, and faint smoke from the morning's fire. I held a mug of chamomile tea in my hands, not for the taste, but for the warmth, it gave me something to hold onto, something to keep my hands from trembling.Noah’s mom sat beside me, her posture regal even in rest. She had that poised calmness some mothers possessed, especially the ones who’d been through life’s hard lessons and come out the other side with a spine made of steel and a heart stitched up but still beating. Her eyes scanned the horizon as if trying to catch sight of something just out of reach.I didn’t know how we got here. One moment we were sipping in silence, and the next…
Stacey’s POV:The thought of leaving my little girl even for a few days felt like leaving my heart behind. But Chloe was right. The walls of her house were starting to close in. My thoughts, the judgment from the world, the unanswered texts, the three men orbiting my already fragile life, it all needed distance.So I packed a bag, kissed Tessa goodbye, and now I had nothing but trees and questions to keep me company.The cabin was surrounded by a blanket of silence so pure and heavy it almost had a sound of its own. Just wind, grass, and birdsong, and nothing else. Chloe hadn’t been exaggerating. This place was tucked far from the rest of the world, nestled on a patch of grassland by the edge of a small, still lake. It was a modest structure made of pale wood and covered in ivy, but it was beautiful in a wild, forgotten way. Like a place where time forgot to tick forward.It was just what I needed.I arrived with nothing but a duffel bag, my journal, and a heart so full of ache that I







