Chapter 2

EMILIANO

I deliberately stayed away from home for two days, trying to avoid Valeria Jiménez Aguirre even though the truth was I was not avoiding her presence alone but the consequences of what she had already begun to see. I told myself I only needed time, space, and distance before everything collapsed under the weight of my own choices, yet even while staying away I knew I would eventually have to return because I needed fresh clothes and an explanation I was not sure I could give without everything falling apart.

When I finally pulled into the driveway, the house felt heavier than I remembered. I walked in and found Valeria in the kitchen, but I ignored her completely, choosing silence over confrontation. I went straight to our bedroom, showered quickly, and changed into something more comfortable, pretending I could wash away the tension building inside me.

When I returned to the dining room, she was already seated, eating in complete silence. I sat across from her and waited, expecting what had always been routine between us, expecting the comfort of familiarity even after everything had changed.

But she did not acknowledge me.

She simply continued eating.

After a moment of growing irritation, I finally spoke. “Where is my food?” I asked, my voice sharper than intended.

Slowly, she lifted her head and looked at me with something colder than anger. It was detachment mixed with something deeper. “Did your mistress not feed you?” she said flatly before returning her gaze to her plate.

The words landed harder than I expected, and I rolled my eyes as if I could brush them away. “Do not be dramatic, Valeria.”

The sound of her fork hitting the plate echoed sharply as she dropped it, then she looked at me fully. Her eyes burned with resentment I had never seen before. “You think I am being dramatic?” she spat. “You had an affair, humiliated me in front of Camila Torres Beltrán, and now you come back after two days expecting me to serve you like nothing happened?”

I sighed heavily, running a hand through my hair. “Valeria, about what you saw in my office, I can explain.”

She raised an eyebrow, her expression filled with sarcasm. “Oh really?” she said quietly. “Go ahead, Emiliano Navarro Reyes. Explain.”

I hesitated before speaking. “My business is struggling,” I admitted quickly. “Camila has resources and connections that can elevate everything. We could finally have the life we both wanted.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “You mean the life you want,” she corrected, her tone tightening. “You sound very defensive, Emiliano, which makes me think you never planned to end things with her.”

I exhaled slowly. “She will lose interest eventually. You just need to ignore it for now.”

That was when her expression shifted, disappointment settling in like something permanent. “This is madness,” she whispered. “You have no shame.”

Something in me snapped. “I am not shameless,” I said sharply. “You are comfortable with mediocrity, Valeria, but I refuse to stay trapped in it.”

Her voice softened, which somehow hurt more. “Why did you not tell me your business was struggling?” she asked. “You came home every day treating me like the enemy instead of speaking to me.”

Frustration rose fast inside me. “What would you have done?” I shot back. “You earn less than I do at the gym. Would you have slept with wealthy clients to fix my problems?”

Her eyes sharpened instantly. “Would you have wanted that?” she asked quietly.

I hesitated, and that hesitation answered everything.

She let out a slow breath. “That says everything about this marriage,” she said.

Then she asked, quieter but more dangerous. “How long has it been?”

“Does it matter?” I replied too quickly.

Her gaze hardened. “Do not push me, Emiliano. How long have you been with Camila?”

I exhaled. “Six months.”

She blinked slowly, staring down at her plate. “Do you regret it?” she asked, her voice suddenly vulnerable.

I could not answer the way she wanted.

“Emiliano!” she snapped. “Do you regret it?”

Something broke inside me and I stood up. “What do you want me to say?” I said sharply. “No, I do not regret it.”

Silence filled the room immediately.

Then she laughed bitterly. “You are spineless,” she whispered.

Anger rose between us, messy and uncontrolled, everything we had avoided finally collapsing into the open. Words were thrown back and forth, old arguments resurfacing, blame twisting through every sentence until nothing felt repairable anymore.

And then I said it without thinking about the damage.

" Once my business succeeds, I cannot have my wife working as a gym instructor. It does not align with what I want my life to look like."

The moment it left my mouth, I saw her freeze completely.

And I understood too late that I had not just revealed my pride.

I had ended something that still had a chance to survive.

I scoffed, forcing myself to steady the rising anger in my chest. “Why are you using your maiden name?” I shot back, as if that detail mattered more than what was actually happening between us. I had always thought Valeria Jiménez Aguirre was being dramatic whenever she chose silence or distance over submission, but now that same silence felt different, sharper, final in a way I was not prepared to accept.

“You must be out of your mind if you think I will continue this marriage with you,” she spat, her eyes blazing with a kind of certainty that made my confidence falter for a split second. “It ended the moment you chose that woman over me.”

For a brief moment, I still clung to the arrogance that had carried me this far. I told myself she could not possibly leave. Valeria had always been emotional, always intense, and I had convinced myself that meant she would eventually bend back toward me. “Do not be ridiculous,” I said dismissively, even though something inside me was beginning to tighten uncomfortably.

Her expression did not change.

“Do I look like I am joking?” she asked coldly, her voice stripped of all softness. “Do I look like someone who would tolerate this level of humiliation?” Without another word, she reached beside her and slammed a brown envelope onto the table between us.

My eyes narrowed. “What is this supposed to be?”

“What do you think it is?” she replied flatly.

Reluctantly, I picked it up, already sensing I would not like what was inside. I tore it open and pulled out the documents, scanning the first page before letting out a short, bitter laugh. “Divorce papers?” I scoffed, shaking my head. “You are actually serious.”

“I intended to have them delivered to your office,” she said calmly, as if she was discussing something as ordinary as groceries. “But since you have been avoiding home, I decided there was no point waiting. I have already signed. All that is left is your signature. Renata Salgado Mora will collect them.”

The mention of Renata’s name tightened my jaw, because I had always known involving her would mean losing control of the situation entirely. Still, I refused to let my composure break. “Do not make decisions you will regret, Valeria,” I warned, stepping closer as if proximity could undo what she had already decided.

She looked at me then with quiet disbelief. “I have already made the worst decision of my life, Emiliano Navarro Reyes, and that was choosing you and marrying you.” Her voice hardened further as she continued. “I should have ignored you back in college instead of believing your empty charm.”

The words stung more than I wanted to admit, but I forced myself to stay standing. “If I sign this and you come back later, do not expect me to take you back,” I said, trying to regain control of the moment.

Her lips curved slightly, but there was no warmth in it. “That warning should be for you,” she replied. “The moment you sign, my name disappears from your life completely. If I ever find it attached to yours again in any way, I will take legal action against you for defamation. Consider yourself warned.”

I stared at her, searching for hesitation, for any crack in her resolve. “So you are really doing this?” I asked, softer now, almost hoping she would hesitate. “Think about it, Valeria. You have nothing. No family that truly stands behind you. You are alone.”

For a fraction of a second, I thought I had struck something.

But she did not even blink.

“Sign it,” she said simply.

Her voice had become something distant, final, like a door locking from the other side. “I have already moved everything out. Renata will collect the papers when you are done. Enjoy your life, Emiliano.”

Then she turned away and walked out of the house without looking back, the sound of the door closing behind her echoing louder than anything she had said.