4. Divorce...

She wasn’t going to spend her life wallowing in misery. That’s what Adrea told herself as she picked up the book she had abandoned for a week. A week in which Rafael hadn’t come home, and she had been unable to reach out.

She heard a car in the driveway. Her body went still. She knew that engine’s low, purring sound. She rose too quickly, the rush making her vision speckle with black dots. When her sight cleared, she moved to the window.

He was home.

Rafael stepped out of the car with the same stiff grace she knew by heart. He pulled an overnight bag from the back seat and turned toward the house. As if he sensed her watching, he looked up.

She flinched, stepping back into the dim room. Her reflection in the glass caught her off guard—pale, lips colourless, hair in a limp bun. She barely looked like herself. But none of it mattered. Her heart was pounding too loud to care.

A choked sound escaped her before she could stop it. She pressed her palm to her chest, willing herself to breathe.

She heard the car door shut. How long had he stood out there?

‘Calm down,’ she said to herself.

But she couldn’t. This could be the moment everything broke for good—her marriage, and with it, her future.

She made her way to the door, forcing herself to take even steps. The knob was cold under her fingers. As she opened it and stepped out, cool air hit her cheeks, and her breaths came in short bursts. She reached the stairs just as Rafael reached the second step. He paused.

They stared at each other. The silence stretched, taut and loaded.

He looked exhausted. Shadows lined his eyes. His skin had lost its usual warmth. The beginning of a beard shadowed his jaw, and his hair—normally styled with care—was limp, overgrown, and flat. Had he shaved at all while he was gone?

“You’re back,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He grunted. The sound felt like a shove. He resumed walking up the stairs. She realized she was in his way and stepped aside. He brushed past her without a glance.

The silence cut deeper than if he’d shouted at her. At least shouting meant she still mattered.

He stopped in front of their bedroom door. She saw the hesitation in his shoulders, the deep breath he drew. He couldn’t go in. She understood that. She hadn’t stepped foot in the room since the night he left.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. Then he stepped inside, leaving her standing outside, blinking away tears.

She lingered at the door, hands limp at her sides. He dropped the overnight bag and opened the closet. She watched him retrieve clothes—mechanical, detached.

He turned and caught her staring.

She flinched. Still, she tried.

“Have you eaten?” Her voice cracked. “Do you want me to get you something?”

He met her gaze with something unreadable. Her breath caught. She waited for him to lash out—but instead, he simply stepped forward and closed the door in her face.

The quiet click was louder than a scream.

She backed against the opposite wall, slid down until she was seated with her knees drawn up. Her fingers trembled against the floor. Inside, she heard the bathroom door open and close. Water running. Movement. Zippers. Closet doors.

A wave of nausea and fear rolled through her. She had done nothing wrong—except trust the wrong person. Except fail to see what Felix really was.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and leaned her head back against the wall. He had to listen. He had to understand… eventually. Somehow.

The doorknob turned, and Adrea managed to get to her feet before the door opened, revealing her husband standing in front of her again. He looked better—shaved, with a touch more colour in his skin. His hair was damp, and neatly brushed away from his face. He still had that look about him, though—the weariness of someone who hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in far too long. Neither had she.

He looked at her, but something was missing. The warmth that had always been there seemed to have evaporated. Now, his gaze held nothing but coldness, as if she were a stranger, someone he didn’t recognize. A pang of heartbreak shot through her chest, and she wondered if this was how he would look at her for the rest of her life.

‘I could never survive that,’ she thought to herself.

She feared she was going to have to. The weight of his decision hung over her, and she felt powerless to stop it.

“We’ll talk after I come back,” he said, his voice distant. “I need to go to the office.”

She nodded, fighting the urge to follow him as he walked down the hall, his footsteps echoing in the stillness. She heard him descend the stairs and head toward his office, the door closing behind him with a finality that sent a shiver down her spine. Alone again.

Her mind raced. She knew this silence was a prelude to something far worse.

As she paced the hallway, the fear consumed her. What would happen next? What would he say when he came back? She felt like a condemned woman, waiting for her verdict, helpless in the face of whatever Rafael decided. His judgment would determine the course of her life. She had no control over it.

She thought about Felix, the man who had destroyed everything. She had trusted him, thought he was just lonely—just like her. She had been his confidante, a shoulder to lean on. What had it gotten her? A shattered marriage. Her heart ached with the memory of him sliding into her bed, of the twisted betrayal that had begun it all.

The hours dragged on, but when the door to Rafael’s office finally opened again, her breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t ready. Not at all. But she couldn’t run away either. Her feet felt rooted to the ground, her body frozen in place.

As he emerged, she glanced up at him, his pained expression barely concealed beneath the mask of indifference he wore so well. His jaw clenched, as if every word he was about to speak pained him.

“Come to the living room,” he said, his voice thick, strained.

She swallowed hard, the weight of his words threatening to crush her. His voice, once full of strength and confidence, now cracked, betraying the hurt he was trying to suppress. It made her want to weep. She had broken him. She had broken them both.

With a deep breath, she walked toward the living room. She sat on the couch, not daring to meet his gaze. He followed, sitting opposite her, his eyes dark with unresolved emotions. She couldn't sit still. Her knee bounced, a nervous, restless energy she couldn’t quell.

She felt it—his pain, his distrust, his anger—but above all, she felt the distance between them. She wanted to reach out to him, to explain herself, to make him understand how all of this had happened. But she couldn’t find the words. And deep down, she knew it wouldn’t matter. Nothing would.

Rafael’s eyes never left her face as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His voice came out low, controlled, but laced with something darker beneath the surface.

“There are only two ways this can go,” he said, his gaze locking with hers. “Divorce... or an open marriage.”

The words hung between them, a heavy, suffocating presence. Adrea blinked, stunned. Divorce. The word stung like a slap to her face, but the alternative—the open marriage—felt even worse.

Her heart pounded, but she knew, deep down, that the decision had already been made. Rafael wasn’t coming back to her. Not in the way she had hoped. Not in the way she had once believed they would.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"I didn't…" she tried weakly, but his eyes hardened.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he snapped, cutting her off, his voice tight with frustration.

She closed her mouth, her hands trembling in her lap. She had no defence left. She had already lost everything.