001 | The Weight Of Sadness

“Name your price. How much would you accept to divorce Malakai and get lost?"

Harper stared at the tall, fair-skinned woman in a snug-fitting red dress standing before her. She looked out of place in the large supermarket, dressed like someone who belonged on the runway.

"Excuse me?" Harper said, her voice soft but steady.

The woman smiled as she lifted her sunglasses, inspecting Harper the way one would examine an item they were deciding whether to discard.

"You heard me," she said, blowing invisible dust off the lens before sliding it back on. "Let's not make things complicated."

Harper's heart thudded hard. She shifted slightly, angling the stroller closer to her body. Her six-month-old son slept peacefully inside, blissfully unaware of the tension simmering in the air.

"I think you have me confused with someone else," Harper replied. "Please go on your way."

She turned the stroller, already moving to leave. She didn't want a scene. She was too tired for one.

"Harper."

The woman said her name casually.

Harper stopped.

Slowly, she turned back, the hair on the back of her neck rising stiffly. Just who was this woman?

The woman laughed under her breath. "Relax. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm actually trying to help."

"I said I'm not interested," Harper replied, though her pulse had begun to race. She adjusted the bag slipping from her shoulder and the basket in her grip, her arms aching.

The woman moved closer, lowering her voice. "Malakai doesn't like complications. He prefers keeping things... clean."

Harper swallowed hard. "You don't know my husband."

"Oh, I do." Her red lipstick-coated lips curved. "Far better than you think."

Chills slid down Harper's spine.

"You're embarrassing yourself," she said, her voice almost fragile. "Whatever fantasy you've built, I suggest you leave me out of it."

"I'm not asking you to leave him empty-handed," the woman said, unbothered. "I'm offering you compensation. A generous one. Enough to start over somewhere... quieter."

Harper stared at her. For a moment, she thought she might laugh.

"Are you done?" she asked.

The woman tilted her head, studying her more carefully now. Her gaze roved over Harper's tired eyes, the loose sweater, and the faint dark circles she hadn't bothered hiding.

"You're exhausted," the stranger said. "He's never home. His mother hates you. And you're pushing a stroller through a supermarket alone on his birthday."

Harper's breath caught in her throat.

"You should be careful," she said, her voice sharpening for the first time. "That kind of talk can get you in trouble."

The woman smiled again. "Is that a threat?"

Harper didn't answer.

"I'll make this simple," the woman continued. "Sign the papers when they come. Take the money. Don't fight what's already decided."

Harper felt her stomach churn with unease.

"There are no papers," she said. "And you don't get to speak about my marriage like you're part of it."

For the first time, the woman's smile faltered.

"We'll see."

She stepped aside, as if granting permission.

Harper didn't look back as she walked away, her hands trembling slightly as she guided the stroller down the aisle. She focused on her breathing and on the steady rise and fall of her son's chest.

He'd been up most of the night, feverish and restless, his tiny cries breaking her heart over and over again.

Today was Malakai’s birthday.

She had planned to cook something nice for him.

He'd promised he'd be back early.

As Harper reached the checkout line, she told herself the woman was nothing. Just another bold admirer crossing a line.

Still... her hands wouldn't stop shaking.

By the time Harper got home, her nerves were a frantic mess, anxiety drowning her. She had been married for eight years, but her husband’s warmth for her had faded after the first two years. Right after their first successful IVF, which gave them their little girl, Summer.

She had worked tirelessly since then, trying to win his heart again. Nothing had changed until the night he discovered they were going to have a son. But even that rare warmth had faded a few months after baby Theo was born.

"Welcome, ma'am," Sierra, the nanny, said as she scooped Theo out of the stroller while the other staff assisted Harper with the bags.

She flashed them a smile before heading straight to the kitchen. Malakai had a sensitive stomach. She was careful with his meals—always had been. As she washed her hands and began preparing his dinner, she checked the clock.

Hopefully, her husband would show up on time.

...

Harper sat on the dining chair, wearing a simple but elegant light pink dress, her hair pulled back in a fishtail braid. She stared bleakly at the wall clock, her hands folded on her lap. The time was 01:30AM.

The circles under her eyes looked more pronounced, the heavy weight of sadness sagging her shoulders.

Her phone vibrated on the table, and she picked it up, her hands trembling with exhaustion. Her best friend, Anne, had just sent her an image attachment. Swallowing hard, she clicked it open and was greeted with an image of her husband leaving a familiar building. The law firm where her best friend worked.

[I saw him at the office today. Harp, he went to see a divorce attorney!]

Harper's beautiful grey eyes instantly welled up with tears, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Why?

Why would he suddenly do this to her?

Just then, she heard the sound of the front door jerking open. And she shot to her feet, her heart thumping hard. She hurried over to the sitting room, just in time to see him taking off his black coat.

Malakai Blackwell stood over six feet tall. Thick black hair curled at his collar, stray strands dipping over his forehead. His intense sectoral blue and brown eyes collided with hers, and she stiffened. It was those same eyes that had captivated her the first time they'd met.

"You're home," Harper forced out a smile, walking over to take his coat and briefcase, his familiar cologne washing over her. It usually felt like home. But tonight, it was tainted with a feminine scent that made her stomach churn.

"Work ran late," he replied flatly and simply walked past her. Tears burned Harper's eyes. Not once had she been intimate with her husband. They had never even shared a peck or a kiss. Malakai had claimed that he was impotent. And because of this, they had to depend on IVF for a chance at parenthood.

"I waited—" Harper started to say, and he cut her off.

"Not now, Harper. I'm exhausted," he said, trudging towards their bedroom.

With a heavy sigh, Harper wiped her tears and followed him down the hallway, pausing when he stopped by Theo's room with a tender expression on his face.

Harper swallowed past the lump in her throat and kept moving. In their bedroom, he tossed his phone on the bed, undressed, and vanished into the bathroom without a word. She reached for his shirt, bile threatening to push up her throat when she saw the unmistakable stain of a red lipstick on the fabric. She felt the room spin around her, her knees threatening to give out.

“No,” she breathed.

Malakai was a lot of things. But a cheat wasn’t one of them. He wouldn’t hurt her like that.

Just then, his phone vibrated on the bed, and she glanced down at it, nearly throwing up when she saw the message that had just popped up.

[I miss your touch already. We should do it again soon. Love.]