Chapter 2

My stomach twisted suddenly, a wave of nausea rising so fast I had to press my hand against my lips.

I didn’t know if it was the food I had forced myself to eat…

or the way my whole life had just been turned upside down.

The phone slipped slightly in my hand.

For a second, I thought I could hold it in.

The room tilted.

I couldn’t.

I rushed toward the guest room down the hallway, my steps unsteady, my hand brushing against the wall to keep myself from falling. I pushed the door open and barely made it to the bathroom before it hit.

I dropped to my knees.

Everything came up at once.

It burned.

My fingers tightened against the edge as my body heaved again, then again, until there was nothing left.

When it finally stopped, I stayed there, bent over, breathing hard.

My throat stung.

I didn’t move.

The image came back.

That photo.

My stomach twisted again, but there was nothing left to give.

A small, broken sound slipped out of me.

I leaned back slowly, resting my head against the cold wall, my eyes staring at nothing.

For a moment, everything felt too quiet.

Like the world had moved on without me.

I swallowed, but it didn’t help.

I could still see it.

Maybe I was wrong.

Maybe it wasn’t him.

Maybe—

I shut my eyes tightly.

No.

I knew it was him.

A shaky breath left my lips as I pushed myself up and turned on the tap. I splashed water onto my face.

It was cold, but it didn't help.

I looked up at my reflection.

For a second, I didn’t recognize myself.

My face was pale. My eyes looked… off. Like something behind them had shifted.

I stared for a moment longer, then reached for a towel and pressed it against my face, breathing slowly.

I walked back to the living room and picked up my phone from where it had fallen beside the couch.

I sat down slowly and unlocked it again.

My fingers hovered for a second before I tapped into the story.

It was still there.

Nothing had changed.

I stared at the screen, my grip tightening around the phone.

I wasn’t dreaming.

It wasn’t my imagination.

What was he doing with her?

Why did he walk away from breakfast… just to meet her?

The questions kept coming, one after the other, settling in my chest like something heavy I couldn’t push away.

I didn’t click out of it immediately.

I kept looking, like if I stared long enough, something would change.

It didn’t.

I finally locked the phone and let it drop beside me.

The rest of the day passed without me noticing.

I stayed on the couch the entire time.

My mind kept going back to the same place… the same image… the same realization I wasn’t ready to face.

The sky outside darkened slowly.

The house grew quieter.

Still, I didn’t move.

I was waiting.

By the time I glanced at the clock again, it was almost 11 p.m.

He still wasn’t home.

I had called him earlier.

More than once.

He didn’t answer.

He never did.

The sound of a car entering the compound made me sit up immediately.

My heart jumped.

My eyes fixed on the door.

A few seconds later, it opened.

Dominic walked in, his steps uneven.

He stumbled slightly, catching himself against the door before it closed behind him.

I stood up without thinking.

He was drunk.

That wasn’t unusual.

But something else was.

He was smiling.

I froze.

In the three years we had been married… I had never seen him smile like that.

Not once.

Not at me.

Not at anything.

But now…

He looked… happy.

Something twisted painfully in my chest.

He walked toward me slowly, his steps unsteady, then stopped right in front of me.

His head tilted slightly as he looked at me, like he was trying to focus.

My breath caught.

He had never looked at me like this before.

Not this long.

Not this carefully.

His eyes stayed on mine, and for a moment… I forgot everything else.

Forgot the photo.

Forgot why my chest had been hurting all day.

His hand lifted slowly.

His fingers brushed against my lips.

Soft.

Careful.

My breath hitched.

I stood there, completely still.

He stepped closer.

Too close.

I could feel his breath against my skin.

His fingers moved, pushing a strand of hair away from my face.

My heart started beating faster.

For a moment… it felt like something I had been waiting for.

Something I had imagined too many times.

Then he leaned closer and whispered—

“Damn, Mirabel.”

My body turned cold in an instant.

The moment shattered so completely it felt like it had never existed at all.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen…” he murmured, his voice low and uneven. “You don’t understand how much I’ve missed you… all these years… thanks for coming back to me…”

The warmth from a second ago disappeared so fast it left me cold in places I didn’t know could feel anything.

I pushed him away before I even realized what I was doing.

Like his touch suddenly burned.

He stumbled backward and fell to the ground.

The sound snapped something in me.

I moved forward immediately, instinct taking over before my mind could catch up.

“Dominic—”

But he wasn’t listening.

His eyes were already closed.

He was still mumbling something under his breath, words I couldn’t fully make out.

My whole body felt weak.

Like I couldn’t hold myself up much longer.

The only softness I had ever felt from him…

The only moment I thought—

I swallowed hard.

It wasn’t for me.

It had never been for me.

It was her.

It had always been her.

A quiet realization settled in my chest.

Heavy.

Unavoidable.

So… he never got over her.

I let out a shaky breath.

All this time, I thought I wasn’t enough.

That maybe if I tried harder… if I was better… if I just waited a little longer…

He would see me.

But his heart had never been empty.

It had just never been mine.

My vision blurred slightly.

I didn’t notice the tear until it dropped onto my hand.

I stared at it for a second.

Then slowly looked back at him.

He was lying on the floor.

Asleep.

Like nothing had just happened.

Like I wasn’t standing here… breaking quietly in front of him.

I almost turned away and walked out.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

I wiped my face quickly with the back of my hand and bent down, slipping my arms under his weight.

He was heavy.

It took effort to pull him up.

My breathing grew uneven as I dragged him to the couch, my grip tightening every time he almost slipped.

By the time I got him to lie down properly, I was out of breath.

A little dizzy.

But I ignored it.

I stood there for a moment, just looking at him.

At the man I had spent three years loving.

Quietly.

Patiently.

Hoping.

And realizing… he had spent all those years loving someone else.