003 | ELARA ELLIS

Adrian is asleep.

He’s lying on his back, one arm thrown over his head, his breathing even. He looks calm and at peace, like whatever happened earlier during dinner didn’t happen. Like our son hadn’t disrespect me and call me a terrible mother, like Vivienne hadn’t smiled at the table while he chose her over me.

I, on the other hand, lie beside him, staring at the ceiling. My cheek where the knife hit me is still sore, but the dull ache is nothing compared to the one I’m feeling inside me, like I’m being ripped into two from within.

Because I can’t stop thinking about us and how our marriage is only going to fray even worse now that his ex girlfriend is here, living under the same roof with us.

Seven years. That was the contract marriage agreement. I was to give him an heir, and he was to provide more financial stability for my own family. It had also been agreed that if we didn’t fall in love after seven years — which we’ve already clocked — we’d go our separate ways.

Maybe tonight is the breaking point.

Or maybe now is the time to fix it instead.

So, I sit up quietly and shift closer, placing my hand on his chest.

“Adrian,” I whisper.

He grunts, but doesn’t move.

“Adrian,” I try again, my voice louder this time.

Finally, his eyes open slowly, a look of irritation in them. “What?”

“We need to talk,” I say.

He sighs, annoyed. “Now?”

“Yes. Now.” My voice shakes despite my effort. “I — “ I swallow. “It’s very urgent.”

He doesn’t look the least bit worried when he says, “what is it that’s so urgent that you need to talk about now? Can’t it wait for tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I just couldn’t sleep without talking.” When he says nothing, I continue. “I don’t think we’re okay. I think we’re drifting. I… I want us to work on this. On the marriage.”

He laughs, the sound mocking. “You chose now for this? Of all times?”

“I told you I couldn’t sleep,” I say. “After tonight—”

“Tonight?” His eyes narrow on me. “You mean the scene you created at dinner?”

“I wasn’t causing a scene,” I reply immediately, my throat clogging up again. “I was just parenting our son, and you know it,” I insist. “You’re very much aware Theo doesn’t take desserts before his meals.”

“You embarrassed me,” he snaps. “In front of Vivienne.”

I stiffen. “You’re more worried about her than me.”

“Don’t start,” he warns.

“I’m not starting,” I say quietly, tears now stinging my eyes. “I just want you to listen. I feel shut out of my own marriage, Adrian. I feel like a guest in my own home. Like I don’t even belong here.”

“Are you saying Theo and I make you feel like a stranger?”

“Well, if you look at — “

Suddenly, he pushes himself up, his jaw clenched tightly. “You’re exhausting, Elara. Why does everything have to be a problem with you? Theo, food, rules, feelings. I can’t breathe around you. You just have to make everything about yourself.”

The words make my chest cave, and before I know it, tears are already blurring my vision, ready to drop.

However, I’m quick to blink it away again, whispering in my most strongest voice ever, even though it sounds like it’s going to break. “I’m your wife, Adrian.”

“And you act like my warden.” When I don’t say anything, he swings his legs off the bed. “I’m not doing this tonight.”

My gaze follows him as he straightens into his full height. “Where are you going?”

“Somewhere quiet,” he says, grabbing his phone.

Without another word, he walks out of the room, the door shutting closed behind him.

I sit there, my chest tight, listening to the silence for almost ten minutes or more — I don’t know.

Swallowing hard, I force down the next round of tears that threaten to fall from my eyes like I’ve always done.

Being trained that the tears does nothing for one is the only thing stopping me from crying. And right now, I can only wonder if I pushed too hard.

Maybe father was right. Maybe this is what marriage looks like, and I’m just not built for it. And despite that, I’m still lucky — in his words — to be married to a man like Adrian. To have a child. A stable, powerful family. I’m supposed to be grateful.

Maybe that’s why I should apologize.

At the thought, I get out of the bed slowly. I don’t even wear my slippers. I simply adjust my night dress around my body, brace myself for whatever is going to happen, and walk out of the room.

The hallway is dim when I step into it, but that’s the last thing on my mind. All I can do is rehearse apologies in my head that taste bitter even before I say them.

And as I’m passing by the guest room I remember Vivienne is in to find Adrian, I stop at the sound of a voice.

It’s her voice, and it sounds so soft and low. Intimate, even, like she is speaking to a lover.

“Let me help you,” she murmurs. “You don’t have to carry everything alone.”

My pulse spikes, my heart racing, I take a careful step towards the door until I can hear her even more clearly.

Her voice again. Breathier. “You’re so tense, baby. Let me soothe you.”

What?

I raise a hand to knock on the door, but I halt instantly, my heart dropping into my stomach when I hear the sound of a very familiar groan.

Adrian. The groans he makes whenever he’s aroused or having sex with me.

And now, he’s with —

My palms fly to my mouth to block the sob that almost escapes me, and even though I know I should turn — I should run away from here — I stand there, listening. Listening to the shuffle of clothes, low moans, more groans, and the unmistakable sounds of skin meeting skin.

“Fuck, baby,” Adrian says, his voice low and strained. “I missed you. You’re still as tight as I remember. I can’t— “

Vivienne laughs softly, the sound mixed with a moan. “I didn’t fuck anyone since you,” she gasps. “Fuck. Fuck me harder, Adrian. Do it the way you used to do it before. Mmmm. Just like that. Better than you’ve done it with her.”

That’s when my mind blocks out everything that follows after, and finally, a tear slides down my cheek. Another one follows, then another, and that instant, I realize with startling clarity that this marriage didn’t end tonight.

It ended long ago.

And I’ve been living with a lie, under the same roof as them, for the sake of a child and an illusion of stability.

I turn away before the door can open, before I do something I can’t undo.

By the time I reach our bedroom, my hands have stopped shaking.

Because I have finally seen my marriage for what it is, and it’s time I actually walked away without caring what anyone thinks.