ONE

The music was too loud for a confrontation.

Laughter spilled across the private lounge like champagne, sharp and careless, bouncing off crystal glasses and polished marble floors. She stood at the entrance for a moment longer than necessary, her fingers tightening around the strap of her worn handbag as she took it all in.

And then she saw him.

Her husband was seated comfortably on a leather couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other wrapped around another woman.

The woman was young, slim, beautiful in a way that magazines approved of. She wore a tight red dress that clung to her body like it had been sewn on with intention, her long legs crossed elegantly as she laughed at something he whispered into her ear.

Her husband smiled. He never smiled like that at home.

For a moment, the world tilted.

She felt it physically, like the ground beneath her feet had shifted just enough to remind her how fragile balance really was.

“Julian.”

Her voice came out softer than she intended, nearly swallowed by the music. But it was enough.

His head snapped up. Their eyes met.

The smile on his face vanished instantly, replaced by irritation. No, disgust. As if she were the one who didn’t belong there.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, already standing.

The woman beside him looked her up and down slowly, her lips curving in something close to amusement.

“I came looking for you,” she said. “You didn’t come home last night.”

A beat of silence passed. Then he started to laugh a sharp, mocking laughter.

Loud enough to draw the attention of the people around them, his friends, his associates, all now watching like this was free entertainment.

“Look at you,” Julian scoffed, eyes raking over her body without shame. “Causing a scene again.”

Her cheeks burned. She could feel it, the familiar heat of humiliation creeping up her neck, settling deep in her chest.

“I just asked a question,” she said quietly.

“You always do,” he snapped. “As if you have the right.”

The woman beside him leaned closer, her manicured fingers brushing his arm possessively. “Is this your wife?”

Julian didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice was cold.

“Unfortunately.” The word landed like a slap.

Susan swallowed hard.

“I saw you with her,” she said, forcing the words out. “I just want to know why.”

That was when his expression changed.

Anger flared suddenly, violently, as though her presence alone was an offense.

“Why?” he repeated. “You really want to ask me why?”

He took a step closer, his voice rising, no longer caring who heard.

“Look at yourself.”

Her breath caught.

“After you gave birth, you completely let yourself go,” he continued cruelly. “Fat. Bloated. You stopped caring how you looked. Do you expect me to stay faithful to that?”

The room seemed to go quiet, though she knew it hadn’t. Her ears rang, her heartbeat pounding so loudly she could barely hear anything else.

She glanced down at herself without meaning to.

Loose dress. Tired eyes. A body that still carried the marks of pregnancy and sleepless nights. A body that had carried his child.

“I carried your baby,” she whispered.

“And?” he shot back. “I never asked you to keep that thing.”

Gasps rippled through the room.

Someone laughed nervously.

Julian wasn’t done.

“If you hadn’t seduced me that night,” he continued, pointing a finger at her like she was a criminal, “if you hadn’t drugged my drink, none of this would’ve happened. I would never have slept with you. I would never have gotten you pregnant. And I certainly wouldn’t be stuck in this miserable marriage.”

Her vision blurred.

“That’s not true,” she said, shaking her head. “You know it’s not...."

“You trapped me,” he roared. “And then you stubbornly decided to keep that thing even after I told you to get rid of it.”

The word thing echoed in her head.

Not our child.

Not our daughter.

Just… thing.

She looked around desperately. At his friends, who watched with amused detachment, at the woman beside him, who smirked openly now, at the people who had dined in her home, smiled to her face, eaten the meals she cooked.

Not one person spoke up. Not one.

Something inside her cracked.

She straightened slowly, lifting her head. The shaking in her hands stopped.

Three years.

Three years of swallowing insults. Three years of pretending not to notice his affairs. Three years of being treated like a burden in a house she cleaned, cooked in, and bled for.

She suddenly felt very tired.

“I see,” she said softly.

Julian sneered. “Good. Then stop embarrassing yourself and go home.”

She looked at him for a long moment. Then she spoke the words that had been forming quietly in her heart for months.

“I want a divorce.”

The laughter came again, louder this time.

“A divorce?” Julian repeated incredulously. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You have nothing,” he added cruelly. “No money. No family. No place to go. Without me, you’re nothing.”

She nodded once, slowly.

“Then I’ll be nothing somewhere else.”

She turned and walked away. Her steps were steady and she didn’t look back.

She didn’t see the way his smile faded, just for a second, as if something he didn’t know how to name had slipped through his fingers.