Chapter 3: Breaking Point

“It’s… it’s alright.”

Zoe’s reaction changed so quickly it almost looked rehearsed. Just seconds ago she had flinched at the glass shattering near Pete’s feet, but now her face softened into something that looked like concern.

She stepped closer to Pete, her fingers reaching for his hand as though it belonged to her.

“If Petra doesn’t want to cook,” she said gently, “we can just eat out.”

Her hand remained wrapped around Pete’s.

Pete's cold eyes were still fixed on Petra, and the anger in them had not softened one bit. Zoe continued speaking, almost like she was trying to smooth things over, though the little smile on her lips betrayed something else.

“Petra,” Zoe said, turning slightly so she could look at her clearly while still holding Pete’s hand. “Pete and I are tight, you know. Like brothers.”

She chuckled lightly, as if the explanation was the most obvious thing in the world. Then her fingers curled more tightly around Pete’s hand as she added, “Otherwise, you’d never get to marry him.”

Petra stood there, silent.

Zoe turned to Pete again, then glanced back at Petra every few seconds like someone performing on a stage.

“Let’s go,” she said, tugging Pete lightly. “Give Petra some time to cool off. I heard women who just gave birth can get emotional. Sometimes they even wet themselves.”

Martins and Eric burst out laughing.

They tried to cover their mouths with their hands, but it didn’t hide the mockery in their eyes as they glanced at Petra.

“Pete,” Zoe added again, playfully pushing him with her shoulder, “don’t piss her off too much. If she wets herself here, it’ll ruin my appetite.”

That was it.

The last thread of Petra’s patience snapped.

She shot up from the couch like someone who had just been set on fire. Her entire body moved forward instinctively, her eyes burning with fury as she headed straight for Zoe.

But Pete reacted immediately.

He stepped forward and blocked her path.

The sudden movement froze everyone in the room again. The air became tight and heavy, like a storm had gathered above their heads.

Petra glared at him, breathing hard.

Pete stood firm, his expression cold, unmoved.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then Zoe cleared her throat awkwardly and glanced at the others.

“Um… let’s go,” she said, forcing a small laugh as she looked around the room.

Pete didn’t say another word. He simply turned around and began walking towards the door.

Zoe followed him closely.

Martins and Eric exchanged one quick look before trailing behind them.

Not one of them looked back at Petra.

Within seconds, the door closed behind them.

The house fell into silence.

Petra remained standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the door as though she expected someone to come back.

But nobody did.

The silence stretched.

Then it broke.

The cry that burst out of Petra’s chest sounded raw and painful, like something that had been trapped inside her for years. Hot tears rushed down her face as her shoulders began to shake.

She cried loudly, without trying to hold it back anymore.

The sound filled the empty house.

She cried until her body bent forward slightly, her hands pressing against her face as the sobs came harder and harder.

Petra’s marriage had always felt like a pot of soup she had been carefully tending over a slow fire. She stirred it every day with patience and hope, believing that the longer she cooked it, the richer the flavor would become.

But the truth was cruel.

Pete had already served the best portions of that soup to someone else long ago.

What Petra was left with was nothing but a cold pot sitting on a dead stove.

Her tears slowly calmed as she walked back to the couch.

The paper she had torn from the wall was still in her hand.

Her fingers trembled as she unfolded it again. Numbers stared back at her.

1… 2… 3… All the way to 99.

Each number crossed out with thick blue ink.

Tears dropped onto the paper, leaving small wet spots.

Her breathing shook as she stared at the last number.

100.

Slowly, she peeled it away from the paper.

The sound of tearing paper echoed softly in the quiet room.

When she lifted her head, her gaze landed on the massive portrait hanging on the wall.

It was a wedding photo.

Pete stood there in his black suit, handsome and confident. Petra stood beside him in her white gown, smiling brightly.

Looking at it now made her chest ache.

Her shoulders shook again as another sob escaped her.

Moments later, she picked up her baby and held him gently against her chest. The little boy stirred softly as she patted his back and hummed a quiet tune to calm him.

Her voice was weak, but the melody was soft and warm.

After a while, the baby relaxed again.

Petra slowly walked to the small baby bed beside the wall and laid him down carefully. She adjusted the blanket around him and watched him for a moment.

Then suddenly—

A sharp pain exploded in her chest.

Petra gasped.

Her knees buckled instantly.

She grabbed the edge of the baby’s bed to keep herself from collapsing completely.

Her breathing became heavy and uneven as she clutched her chest with one hand.

The pain spread through her body like fire.

Then her phone started ringing. It was lying on the baby’s bed beside her.

Petra struggled to reach it.

Her fingers trembled as she picked it up.

The caller ID made her heart twist.

Pete.

She answered.

“Dear, what do you want for dinner?” Pete’s voice came through the phone smoothly, coated with a playful romance that didn’t match anything that had happened earlier.

Loud music blasted in the background.

“I’ll get it for you,” he added.

Pete was sitting comfortably in the executive lounge of a crowded party hall. Colored lights flashed across the room while people laughed and drank around him. Music blasted from the speakers as the DJ hyped the crowd.

Zoe stood on the stage with a microphone, singing along with the DJ’s beat while people cheered and danced.

The atmosphere was loud, wild, and full of excitement.

“Pete, I…” Petra tried to speak.

Her voice shook as she held her chest. “I think I might have acute mastitis,” she said weakly. “Can you come home and take me to the hospital? Or you can stay home and watch the baby. I can go by myself.”

Behind her, the baby had started crying again.

Petra was too weak to stand up and carry him.

“Petra, knock it off already,” Pete snapped coldly.

“I called to see how you were doing, and you’re pushing your luck instead. Hazel lost her appetite because of you. She barely ate anything, and I had to feed her myself.”

His voice hardened. “Now you’re pretending to be sick just to lure me back?”

“I’m not pretending,” Petra whispered.

Her voice trembled with exhaustion.

At that moment, Zoe jumped down from the stage and returned to their table, still holding the microphone playfully. She leaned towards Pete and tried to press the mic towards his mouth, but then she noticed he was on the phone.

She sighed impatiently.

Without asking, she snatched the phone from his hand.

“Hey, knock it off already,” Zoe said loudly into the phone, raising her voice so Petra could hear her clearly over the music.

“You married women are always paranoid. Always trying to force your husbands to ditch their friends.”

Her tone turned sharper.

“If Pete and I were actually involved, you’d be irrelevant.”

She pulled the phone away from her ear with a scoff and tapped the red button to end the call.

“How unreasonable,” she muttered, tossing the phone back at Pete.

“Can you grow a spine already?” she said angrily before dropping into her seat, crossing her arms tightly over her chest and looking away.

Back at home, Petra slowly lowered the phone from her ear.

Her body gave out.

She collapsed onto the floor beside the baby’s bed.

Then she started laughing.

The sound was soft at first, but it carried a deep sadness and regret.

But the laughter suddenly stopped as another violent pain struck her chest.

She gasped sharply.

Her hand searched blindly for the phone again.

After struggling for a moment, she picked it up and scrolled through her contacts.

Her fingers landed on one name.

Bernard. Her younger brother whom she hadn’t spoken for the past four years.

The call connected almost instantly.

“Petra, is that you?" Bernard said before she could even speak. “Oh God. Are you alright?”

Petra’s breathing came out in painful gasps.

“Bernard,” she whispered through her sobs. “I want a divorce.”

Suddenly the pain struck harder than before.

The phone slipped from her hand and fell to the floor. Her body began to shake uncontrollably.

Slowly, she rolled onto her side.

Her breathing became weaker.

Slower.

Until finally—

Her eyes slowly began to close until everything turned completely dark.