Chapter Two

(Lydia's POV)

I don’t remember how I got to the bedroom door, only that my feet carried me there against the pain settling deep in my chest.

Something inside me already knew what I might walk into, but still I opened it.

Because no matter how fragile my place in this marriage had become, that room was still mine... or at least, it was supposed to be.

I pushed the door open and there she was, already lying on the bed.

For a brief second, I just stood there, my fingers tightening unconsciously at my sides, my gaze fixed on her.

Then something in me snapped. “Get up.”

Nora turned her head slowly, as though she had only just realized I was in the room, her lashes fluttering in a feigned innocence that might have fooled someone else, but not me... not when I could see the faint curve of amusement tugging at her lips.

“Oh,” she murmured. “you’re here.”

My jaw tightened, my nails pressing into my palms as I forced myself to take a step further into the room, refusing to retreat or shrink the way I always seemed to when she was around.

“I said get up,” I repeated, my voice rising now. “That’s my bed.”

For a moment, she said nothing, then just as I anticipated, she turned away from me entirely.

“Donald…” she called softly. “I don’t think I can sleep alone tonight.”

What the hell? How can someone switch effortlessly from a total devil to a helpless innocent victim in a second?

“I’m scared of the dark, remember?" she continued, sitting up just slightly. "I've been trying to grow past that but it's not so easy."

She paused, just long enough to draw Donald's attention totally to her. “But if your wife is uncomfortable, I’ll leave. I don’t want to cause trouble between you two.”

I opened my mouth to speak, to call her out and force Donald to see through her performance, but he already beat me to it.

“Stay.” he blurted and my breath stilled.

Nora paused, glancing at him as though she was trying to resist, but I could see the flicker of satisfaction she tried so hard to conceal.

“But… I don’t want to make things awkward,” she said softly, her fingers gripping the edge of the blanket as though she was preparing to stand.

“I said stay,” he repeated.

“Donald,” I said, stepping forward. “She can take one of the other rooms. There are plenty of guest rooms in this house, there’s no reason for her to...

“I can’t,” Nora interrupted gently, her voice trembling just enough to sound convincing. “I really can’t sleep alone."

“No, you’ll take the guest room,” Donald said, finally turning to look at me.

For a moment, I just stared at him, certain I had misheard, that even he could not say something so casually cruel without at least realizing what it meant.

“I’m sorry?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

“It’s just for tonight, Lydia,” he replied. “Stop making this into something bigger than it is.”

Something bigger.

I drew in a deep breath, my lips parting as I tried to find the words, anything that could make him understand how deeply wrong this was, how humiliating and utterly unacceptable.

“She’s in our bed,” I said finally, my voice trembling now despite my effort to steady it. “And you’re asking me to leave?”

“She’s scared, she's always been scared of the dark since childhood,” he snapped, his irritation flaring more visibly now. “Why are you being so difficult about this?”

“I’m your wife,” I mumbled.

“Yes, but Nora needs me tonight,” he replied without hesitation. “She saved my life once. The least I can do is be there when she’s scared. You of all people know that.”

There it was again. That constant reminder.

The mysterious favor Nora had done for him years ago. If only he knew the truth about that night, and who his actual donor was. But that piece of information was not necessary at this point.

I nodded slowly, not because I agreed, but because I suddenly understood that there was no point in fighting a battle that had already been decided.

I didn’t look at Nora again, because I didn’t need to, I could sense the satisfaction radiating from her as I turned and walked out of the room that was no longer mine.

...

Sleep never came.

I lay in the guest room staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours, my body exhausted but my mind unwilling to rest, replaying everything over and over again until the edges of it blurred and all that remained was the undeniable truth I had spent three years trying to ignore.

I had never truly belonged in his life; I had only filled a space she left behind.

And now that she was back...

I was no longer needed.

Despite the horrible event from last night, I still woke up early and rushed to the kitchen.

Donald isn't much of a morning heavy eater and so it's been my duty for the past three years to prepare him a light soup every morning before he leaves for work.

I was stirring the pot when I heard her voice behind me. “Still doing this?”

I didn’t need to turn to know she was leaning somewhere nearby, watching me with that knowing expression that made my skin crawl.

“I’m cooking,” I replied calmly, though my grip on the spoon tightened slightly.

“I can see that,” she said, stepping closer, her gaze flicking toward the pot before returning to me. “What I don’t understand is why you’re still bothering.”

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to remain composed. “Because he’s my husband,” I said.

She suddenly bursted into laughter. “Is that what you think?” she asked, tilting her head slightly as she stared at me.

“He was mine long before he was ever yours,” she continued, her voice softening in a way that somehow made the words hurt more. “And now that I’m back… things will simply go back to the way they were always meant to be.”

My fingers tightened around the knife as I turned to face her fully. “Leave the kitchen,” I said quietly.

“Or what?” she asked, stepping closer, her gaze locking onto mine with a challenge I knew she wanted me to rise to.

“You’ve taken enough already,” I said, my voice shaking now despite my effort to keep it strong. “Just leave.”

I could hear footsteps approaching the kitchen and I exhaled deeply in relief, finally Donald can come get his pretty Cinderella out of my kitchen before she forces me to do something I'll regret.

But before I could continue what I was doing, Nora swiftly grabbed a knife from the counter and before I could react, she gasped loudly as she dragged the blade across her own skin, and I froze, my mind struggling to catch up with what I had just seen.

Blood spilled instantly.

But she wasn't done... She pushed the knife into my hand and next, she pushed herself down to the floor really hard.

“Why would you do that?” she cried, her voice breaking into sobs so convincing that for a moment, I almost questioned my own memory. “I was just trying to help you cook..

“What are you doing?” I whispered, horror flooding through me as I took a step toward her, my heart pounding violently in my chest.

The footsteps suddenly came rushing and then...

Donald was there.

His gaze went straight to her.

Of course it did.

“What happened?” he demanded, dropping to her side as he took in the sight of the blood, his expression darkening instantly.

“I tried to help her cook,” Nora sobbed, clutching her hand as she leaned into him, her body trembling against his. “But she got angry… she grabbed the knife… she cut me and pushed me…”

“That’s not true,” I said immediately, my voice shaking as panic set in. “Donald, she’s lying, she did that to herself, I didn’t...

“Enough.” He cut me off harshly.

I fell silent instantly, the weight of his disbelief hitting me before he even said another word.

“I can’t believe you would stoop this low, Lydia, he continued, his voice laced with anger as he helped her to her feet, his focus entirely on her. “After everything Nora has done for me. After she gave me her plasma and saved my life when no one else could.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I insisted, the desperation creeping into my voice despite my effort to hold it back. “Please, just listen to me...

“Why would she lie?” he shot back, not even looking at me.

And there it was.

The answer I had always known but never wanted to accept, I could never measure up to her place in his life.

“She wants you, Donald,” I whispered, still trying to defend myself even when I already knew how this would end.

"She’s trying to...

“Stop it,” he snapped, cutting me off before I could finish. “I’m not listening to this.”

Nora whimpered softly, tightening her hold on him, and just like that, I ceased to exist again.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he said gently, his tone softening in a way that felt like a cruel contrast to the anger he had directed at me just moments before.

He lifted her into his arms without hesitation, without looking at me.

And as he walked past, I didn’t try to stop him.

I didn’t try to explain again.

Because for the first time… I understood.

There was nothing I could say that would matter.

I stood there in the kitchen for a long moment, staring at the spot where they had just been, and slowly it all began to clear out.

I had been fighting for a place that was never mine.

Loving someone who had never chosen me.

Holding onto a marriage that had already ended long before I found the courage to admit it.

And now, there was nothing left to hold onto.

Maybe it was time to stop trying.

Maybe it was time to leave.