CHAPTER 2

OLIVIA'S POV

Everything stilled before it came crashing down.

I nearly collapsed and reached for‍ t⁠he doorfr⁠ame to steady myself. 

Every incident, he always apologised for, stating that it was a misunderstanding.

I believed it. I believed him…

Then what the hell was this?

"What does it look like, Olivia?" Her voice rang, making me realise that I'd spoken my question out loud. It was like a blow, her dripping with a cruel, mocking pity.

 The few encounters we'd had were through coincidences, whether they could even be called that.  days that I would arrive to find him, her and his mother together, looking like a harmonious family. 

I barely interacted with her, but his mother's constant comparisons and the looks she gave me were enough.

Now, she was smiling at me, looking victorious. She leaned back against the headboard, pulling silk sheets over her chest. There was no guilt present in her face, like she had anticipated this. 

And I was broken.

My chest felt like it was being squeezed as I looked carefully. I couldn't stand looking at her anymore. My gaze shifted.

His face was outlined in the lights, even though I couldn't see it clearly it was unmistakable. He didn't move, as though asleep. But Cassandra beside him, was more than awake.

“Damien…” my words were barely a whisper, torn from a throat that felt like it was closing up. 

He lay in place, unmoving. Was he so comfortable in someone else's arms?

My heart thundered against my ribs and I took a step forward. Then, he moved.

Something strange coiled in my belly. He moved‌ with a strang⁠e, slowness I couldn't recognise. Was it just my imagination?

‘Denial.’ my thoughts mocked.

He sat⁠ up, murmurs drifting before he finally looked up and his gaze met mine. My breath hitched.

It was too low to see the features on his face. He didn't even reach out to cover himself. 

“O…Olivi‌a…” he said, his voice h‌usky, a jagged ruin of the one that used to whisper confessions in the dark.  “You…"

Of all the things, him calling my name in that horse apathetic tone was my last straw.

I didn't realise when I turned away, stumbling out of the halls until I left the blinding lights of the hotel. I hadn't felt the rain that began to fall as I left the building and entered my car 

All that came was numbness. 

Everytime a sob rose in my throat, I swallowed it back down.

‘Not here.’ I told myself, ‘not now’

And so, I drove.

I didn't remember how I made it home.

When I walked back into the dining room, it remained empty. The candles had died out, likely thanks to the wind and the rain, leaving the place dark. 

Staring at the carefully prepared dinner and the flowers, a swirling feeling rose in my stomach.

I leaned against the closest chair and shut my eyes. I pressed a hand over my mouth to stifle the sound of my sobs, but it was useless.

Flashes of memories flooded my mind, from the moment I saw him, to our marriage, to his constant absences and apologies. All of them leading up to tonight, to seeing him with HER.

Pain gnawed at my chest. I clenched it hard, but it didn't stop. It HURT.

In the darkness, I cried. I cried until I couldn’t breathe, until the room blurred into nothing but shadows and grief. Until after what felt like ages, the exhaustion finally dragged me into a restless sleep.

…

The house was silent, the sun dawning right as I heard the hum of his car engine. In a matter of seconds the mansion doors opened before slamming shut. I felt his presence before his footsteps rang closer, taking a few steps before halting. 

He had finally noticed me.

After falling asleep on the dining room chair, I hadn't moved out of the position. After waking up, I remained in place like a statue. A blank fog had overtaken my mind until this moment. 

I looked over the table. The gardenias had wilted. The food was spoiled. Everything remained the same, yet the situation had changed.

And he was back.

Lifting my head, I finally met his gaze. 

I didn't know what to expect. Cruel nonchalance, arrogance, but not this.

 His appearance was mostly the same and yet, completely haggard. His eyes were veiled with something, shadows coating them. He looked wrecked. Hollow, broken. 

An unfamiliar irrational anger crawled through me. What right did he have to look hurt?

"Olivia," he said, his voice just as hoarse as it had been last night. That was what pushed me to the edge. “Olivia, I—”

“Was she worth it?”

I didn't realize my voice could be so cold until now. He seemed to pale. 

“Olivia—”

“Was. She. Worth. It?” I asked standing up to face him, rage flooding through the pain. “Two years, Damien. Was last night worth those years?”

Something flickered in his eyes.

“You were there…” he breathed out, “I thought…I thought it was just—”

He tried to reach out, holding my hand but I stepped back before he could.  

“Oli—”

“Don't call me that.” I snapped, “What? Do you want to explain? The fact that you betrayed me? That you slept with another woman on our anniversary?”

He flinched at those words, his gaze darting away as he stepped back. A pained look crossed his face for a fleeting, agonizing second and I saw a flash of vulnerability in his eyes.

Panic. Guilt.

“I…it d…” he murmured so low I could barely hear a thing. My heart skipped a beat, the rage draining away. I wanted to confront him, but this looked different.

 Out of an instinctive reflex to comfort him, I reached out, only for him to pull away. It was like a blow to the chest.

“Damien…”

Silence enveloped the room as he stood. My heart hammered inside my chest.

“You're right.” He said, his voice hardened, flat and brutal. 

“What?” I asked, taken back.

He finally met my eyes, and they held no warmth or emotions I saw before.

“Yes, I cheated on you last night. I slept with Cassandra. I betrayed you and our vows. Is that what you want to hear?”

The weight of his words settled over the room like ash. The way he'd spoken so brazenly, without an ounce of regret shattered whatever rage I wanted to hold onto. All of the questions felt hollow.

"I can't do this," he said coldly, straightening and taking a step back. “I have work to do. I'll call the servant to move my things out of our bedroom. As for last night… it doesn't matter anymore. Let it go.”

Before I could say a word, he turned away leaving me shattered.

I remained staring at the spot he left, not moving an inch. The front door opened, the chirping of the birds outside felt like a cruel mockery. Eventually, the engine of his car roared to life, the sounds soon disappearing into nothing.

“Happ‍y anniversary, Dam‍ien.” I croaked out, long after the sounds had disappeared.

Standing in the wreckage of my marriage, alone with a secret that now belonged only to me, all that was left was defeat and the damning realization that I ha‌d been fighti⁠n‌g for a marriage that h‌ad already broken.