TRAGEDY

Alina's Pov

I should have known. Maybe not tonight. Maybe not exactly how it happened. But deep down, I think a part of me always knew something wasn’t right.

The streetlight flickered above me as I stood outside the house I shared with my husband. I was numb. Cold. My fingers trembled around my phone, the screen still showing Nate’s name, and beneath it—voicemail.

Again.

I must’ve called him thirty times since the gala. Each unanswered ring felt like another nail in a coffin I didn’t even know we were building. I swallowed the lump in my throat and unlocked the front door, my heels clicking softly against the marble as I stepped inside.

The silence was too heavy. The air, too still. My heels echoed like accusations against the marble floor as I stepped into the foyer. The lights were dimmed—odd, considering Nathaniel usually left them all blazing, claiming it made the house feel alive.

But the house wasn’t alive. It was a mausoleum.

The housekeeper, Rosa, appeared from the hallway, her eyes widening in what could only be described as shock. Her hands trembled slightly, the towel she held clutched tight in her wrinkled fists.

"Ma’am... you’re home early,"

I blinked, exhausted, my throat sore from crying silently in the car for what felt like hours. I had driven on autopilot, my fingers white-knuckled around the steering wheel, my mind a whirl of whispered gossip and the sound of moans that didn’t belong to me.

“Why do you look surprised?” I asked, my voice sounded foreign, brittle.

Rosa stammered. “I... I just didn’t expect you. Is... is the gala over?”

“No,” I said, shrugging out of my shawl. “I couldn’t find Nathaniel. I thought maybe he came home early.”

A flash of panic crossed her face and her eyes darted—so quick it could’ve been missed—toward the staircase.

I stilled. “Is he home?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Maybe you should go back out, señora. He’ll be back soon, I’m sure—”

The rest of her words were cut off by a moan. It was low, sultry and was quickly followed by the creak of the headboard I had picked out myself three years ago.

Everything went still and the world shifted.

Another moan came, louder this time, filled with pleasure so thick it curdled in my ears.

My heart stopped.

I turned my gaze slowly to the top of the staircase. I didn’t have to say anything. Rosa’s face told the truth her mouth refused to.

I was too late.

I started forward and she grabbed my arm, trying to stop me.

“Señora, please—don’t—”

I yanked my arm free and walked past her. I didn’t feel my legs moving. I didn’t feel anything. Numbness blanketed me as I ascended the stairs, each step pounding in time with my heartbeat.

The closer I got, the louder the moans. Groans. Flesh slapping flesh. A giggle.

I stopped outside our bedroom. My bedroom.

And then, with fingers that barely obeyed, I pushed the door open.

And my world officially ended.

The bed—our bed—was a battlefield of sweat and betrayal. Sheets tangled like limbs. Her legs were wrapped around his back while his own hands tangled in her hair.

Sasha. Her. The woman I thought was just his assistant. The woman I had quietly feared. She was here, in my bed, with my husband, moaning his name while he buried himself inside her.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t move. I just... watched. Rooted to the floor.

He didn’t see me. He didn’t stop. He grunted her name and came inside her—something he had never done with me.

And that... that was what broke me.

A sound escaped my throat. It was not a scream, it was not  even a sob. Just a whimper of pure, shattered devastation.

They froze and then Nathaniel turned.

And I saw him. Really saw him. Naked. Smug. Not even guilty. His expression didn’t crumble instead it hardened.

“Oh,” he said flatly. “You’re home.”

Sasha smirked, licking her lips as she pulled the sheets to her chest with faux modesty. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. She was enjoying this.

“Nate?” I whispered.

He stepped off the bed and picked up a folder from the dresser. Calmly. Methodically.

“I was going to give these to you tomorrow.”

He tossed the folder at my feet. I flinched when it hit my shoe.

Divorce papers.

I stared at it even as my vision swam.

“You planned this?” I whispered.

He shrugged. “I wasn’t exactly hiding it, Alina.”

I looked at Sasha. The smirk on her face widened. I wanted to scratch it off. Tear it.

“Did you ever love me?” I choked out, unable to hold it back.

I needed to know— no, scratch that. I had to know.

He gave a low, humorless laugh. “Would you love you if you were me?”

I recoiled as if slapped. My breath hitched, sharp and broken in my chest.

“You’ve let yourself go. You’ve become boring. Predictable. Hell, even your cooking sucks now. And don’t get me started on your body—”

“Stop,” I rasped as I visibly recoiled into myself.

“I married you for your family’s money,” he said, casually. “Your father’s influence. But then he died, and guess what? No access. No legacy. Just you. And what the hell was I supposed to with someone like you?”

He looked at Sasha and smiled.

“She’s the one I’ve always loved. You were just... a mistake. A soft, needy, chubby little placeholder.”

Sasha rose from the bed, naked, languid like a cat. She strutted to Nathaniel and kissed him. Open-mouthed. Deep. “In a few months, I’ll finally be Mrs. Cross,” she whispered, her eyes on me.

I couldn’t breathe and my head was swimming, the ringing in my ears making me weak.

My knees gave out and I collapsed, sobbing. All those years. All that love. Gone. Rewritten as a lie.

I didn’t realize my hands were shaking until the pen fell from my grip. I had signed the papers. My name a scrawl beside his.

Something snapped in me and I stood up, wiping my face.

I looked at the man I’d loved for six years and saw a stranger.

"You’ll regret this," I said with sure conviction.

He laughed.

I walked out with nothing but my clutch and my phone. Down the stairs and past the housekeeper whose eyes were filled with tears. Out into the night.

I didn’t know where I was going. Only that I had to keep walking.

I pulled out my phone and, with trembling hands, sent the recording I'd taken—his confessions, the betrayal, everything. I sent it to his email, with a note:

Take this to the press. Let’s see you smile then.

The wind was cold against my skin. My tears had dried, but inside, I was hollow. Burning.

While on the streets, I broke down again and cried, not caring about who was watching me.

People stared. Whispers followed me, and I knew what they saw. A crying woman whose makeup streaked down her face. My heels were blistering my feet, but I didn’t stop walking.

I couldn't.

I was so into shedding the last tears in my eyes that I didn't notice that I had turned into a slightly deserted street. And I certainly didn't notice the car.

It came from the corner of the street. Fast. Reckless. The headlights hitting me seconds before the bumper did.

Pain exploded through my body as I was lifted off my feet and slammed into the pavement.

I watched as my blood pooled beneath me. My face was burning and my leg was twisted unnaturally.

I tried to scream, but it came out a bloody gurgle. My mouth filled with the metallic taste of betrayal.

Even among the blistering, blinding pain, I heard footsteps. And then someone crouched beside me.

“You shouldn’t have messed with me, bitch,” it was a familiar voice, filled with mock concern

My fading eyes looked up—into Nathaniel’s face.

“Why?” I gasped, the word barely escaping my lips, laden with confusion, hurt, and betrayal.

He leaned closer, his expression a mask of disdain. “You thought you could take me down? You think this is over?”

My vision swam, the edges darkening. “I loved you,” I whispered, feeling the warmth of the blood beneath me mingling with the coldness of his gaze.

He chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth. “Love? You were just a means to an end.”

My eyes fluttered.

And then...everything went black.