Chapter Four

(Rebecca's POV)

Against my better judgment, and unlike how I'd react on a normal day and to a different situation, anger flooded my system so fast I couldn’t hold it back.

“You naughty imp, what have you done?” I yelled, my voice reverberating through the house

The little boy looked startled. His small face crumpled immediately, and he burst into loud and dramatic sobs. Big tears rolled down his cheeks and I was left wondering if that was how short and easy it took kids to cry.

Arabella came running from wherever she had been all this while, her feet clicking urgently across the floor. Her eyes were squinted in surprise as she saw me, before they narrowed even further into something deathly and malicious.

“What have you done to my child?” she hissed, scooping him up into her arms and holding him tight against her chest. He buried his face in her shoulder, sobbing louder and pointing a shaky finger at me.

“She yelled at me and called me names!” he wailed between hiccups.

Her eyes flashed with pure fury as she turned to glare at me. “You mean woman! What did he do to you to make you scare a three-year-old like that? Wait. What the hell are you even doing in this house? Did you break in? I'll call the cops right away!”

I pointed at the shattered glass and broken frame on the floor, my hand trembling. “Did you see what he did? That was one of my most prized pictures.”

“And so?” She snapped, her voice rising with indignation. “How vain can you be to compare a common picture to a child’s life? Did you even think about what those pieces of glass could do to him? Why am I surprised? You wouldn’t even know how painful it is to have a child because you’ve never been to a labor room, never been pregnant before, never even had a miscarriage. Nothing. You’re just dry as a desert.”

The words landed on me like heavy bricks. I stood still, completely stunned, my mouth slightly open but no sound coming out.

A fellow woman had just said that to me. The cruelty of it sank in slowly, wrapping around my chest and squeezing. I felt exposed in the worst way possible, like she had reached into the deepest, most private pain I carried and twisted it for everyone to see. My throat tightened and my eyes burned. For a moment, all I could do was stare at her, trying to process that another woman had thrown my childlessness at me like a weapon.

Just then, the front door opened and Jason walked in with takeout bags and shirt sleeves rolled up. “What’s going on here? What are you doing here? Have you signed the papers?”

The little boy immediately pulled out of his mother's arms and ran straight to him, still sobbing. “Daddy! The bad woman called me names!”

Jason dropped the bags and picked him up automatically. “What did you do?” he turned to me with a hot glare.

Arabella jumped in before I could even open my mouth to explain. “She called him an imp. Can you imagine? A three-year-old, all because he accidentally knocked the picture off.”

“What picture?” Jason asked, looking toward the mess on the floor.

I told him quietly which one it was, making sure to highlight it was the wedding photo with him, me, and his grandmother. I watched his face carefully, waiting for some sign that it still meant something to him.

His expression softened for a brief moment and his eyes widened slightly as he looked at the shattered frame and the torn pieces of the photo scattered among the glass. Something like pain moved across his features. “Arabella, that picture was really important to Rebecca. It was a picture of my grandma, me, and Rebecca at our wedding…”

But Arabella wasn’t having any of it. She cut him off sharply, her voice raised. “So are you saying an ordinary picture is better than my son’s life? I can’t believe you. What if the glass cut him and he bled to death?”

Jason and I winced at her words.

“Arabella, don’t talk like that,” he said, his tone low and careful.

“No, I will,” she shot back, tears now shining in her eyes. “You promised. When you came to me, you promised to take care of Elliot like your own son.”

‘Elliot.’ So that was the little rascal 's name.

“You know he doesn’t have a father,” Arabella continued, her voice breaking with emotion. “But clearly, you’re already failing at that. This place is unsafe for my child and me, and I’d rather take my son to live on the streets than let that evil woman harm him. I’m leaving!”

She grabbed Elliot’s arm and hurried upstairs, her feet clicking angrily on the steps.

“Arabella…” Jason called after her, but she didn’t stop. He turned and glared at me, his eyes hard.

“Jason.. Please. Can't you see what she's trying to do? She's manipulating…” The words had scarcely left my mouth before he closed the distance between us, his eyes narrowed in pure cold rage. His hand was around my neck before I could think and I gasped in shock.

“Shut the fuck up! Never. Ever. Talk about Arabella like that again.”

“You're hurting me, Jason,” I cried as tears streamed down my cheeks.

“I’ll do worse if you don't leave. I don't know why you came back, but the house was just perfect all day while you were away. Leave the papers on the dining table on your way out. And make that as soon as yesterday!” he yelled in my face and shoved me to the side, huffing with emotion as he walked away.

He still had no idea I'd been in the house all day.

“Arabella, baby? I'm sorry,” he hurried after her. At the top of the stairs, he yelled back down without looking at me, “Clean up that place and get out already.”

I stood rooted to the floor, too stunned to speak.

After a few moments, I pulled myself together and walked to the kitchen storage closet. Jason had never allowed me to hire a maid. According to him, a virtuous wife took care of her home and husband herself.

Back then, I had happily done all the chores in this big house, even when it left me exhausted by the end of the day, because I believed I was being the perfect wife. How foolish I had been.

I grabbed the broom and dustpan and returned to the living room.

I swept the glass carefully, the shards making soft tinkling sounds as they hit the dustpan. Each sweep, to me, felt like a small act of closure, like a quiet apology to his grandmother who had once made me feel like I belonged here. I made sure to get every tiny piece, then carried the full trash bag outside to the bin in the garage.

The night air felt cool against my skin as I stood there for a moment, breathing.

When I returned to the living room, I bumped straight into Jason. He looked irritated, like he had been searching for me.

“Why are you still here? Where are the papers? Have you signed the goddamn thing?” he asked in succession, his voice sharp.

“I had to take out the glass.”

He glared at me for longer than a second before speaking again. “Look while you're here, you will be useful for once…”

‘Useful for once?’ The words felt like an insult to all the years I'd devoted to him. Had all my sacrifice really been for nothing?

“Arabella is really upset and crying upstairs. She’s threatening to leave, and I can’t lose her. Since this is all your fault, you’re going to fix it by going up there and apologizing to her…”