Chapter one.

Layla's POV.

"I wish you were here beside me instead of her." Donald, my husband's voice rang through the room, although hushed, but I could hear him as clear as the day.

It was midnight, and the room was dark save for the faint glow from his phone; I laid still beside him on the bed, eyes closed, my breath held tightly, pretending to be asleep, while I listened to his phonecall.

"Don't worry, she can't hear me, she sleeps like a rock." He blurted, bursting into a quiet laughter.

The words hit me hard against the ear, pressing heavily down my chest but I held on tightly, refusing to blink; I kept my face buried in the pillow, my lips slightly parted in feigned sleep.

"Meet me at my office tomorrow, I have a gift for you," he mumbled. "But you know what you have to do to get it."

I shivered quietly as the call progressed, listening as he showered whoever it was over the phone with the affection he no longer gave me.

The call ended a few moments later. The screen light died, and the room was once again swallowed by darkness.

I breathed in deeply, still maintaining my sleeping position; I wasn’t mad. At least, that’s what I told myself.

They said a man goes where he feels good. Maybe I hadn’t been making him feel good anymore. Maybe I’d become too much, too relaxed maybe.

But hadn’t I tried?

God, I’d tried so many times... to seduce him... To show a little bit of too much skin, maybe he'll feel the urge to touch me again... But it all ended with him turning away like I was a piece of unattractive statue.

Every time he turned away from me in bed, I’d told myself tomorrow would be better. That marriages went through seasons, maybe ours was just rough now. But tonight, hearing him whisper those words to another woman, something inside me shifted.

Still, I couldn’t let it get to me, because I might love this man a little too much.

I stirred, moving just enough for the mattress to dip. His body stiffened beside me immediately.

I stretched, feigning a yawn and rubbing my eyes.

“Hey,” I whispered, letting my voice sound lazy and sleepy. “You’re still awake?”

He turned toward me, his eyes sharp even in the dim light. “Were you… awake just now or?”

I forced a sleepy smile. “I just woke up. Why?”

He studied me for a second too long before looking away. “Nothing. Go back to sleep, Layla.”

I sat up instead. “I can’t.” I reached for the edge of the blanket, pretending to be restless. “I’ll… just go freshen up.”

He didn’t answer.

I rose from the bed, my legs trembling slightly as I walked to the wardrobe. The cold tiles nipped at my bare feet as I opened the doors and stared inside. My fingers brushed against a lingerie set I hadn’t worn months... It had once made him look at me like I was the only thing in the world.

Maybe that’s what I needed to do. Maybe I just needed to remind him.

I took it and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind me; I leaned against the counter and looked at myself in the mirror. My reflection looked tired, my eyes dull around the edges.

“You can fix this,” I whispered to the woman in the mirror. “You’ve fixed harder things.”

I changed, sliding into the silk that clung to my body, hoping it would cling to his attention too. I adjusted the straps, brushed my hair back, and forced a smile.

Then I stepped out.

He was still on the bed, phone on the nightstand, one arm behind his head. His eyes flicked up as he saw me, and although the cold look in his eyes didn't leave, I still held on to a little conviction that if I just pushed a little harder...

“Hey,” I said softly, walking toward him. “I can’t sleep, so I figured I'd spend that time making you feel good."

He exhaled through his nose, sounding more irritated than tired. “Layla, it’s past midnight.”

“I know,” I said, sliding onto the bed, my knees brushing against his leg. “That’s what makes it… fun.”

He frowned. “Fun?”

I smiled, leaning in, pressing my palms on either side of him. “I promise you're gonna like it,” I whispered. "Just relax and..."

He sat up slightly, catching my wrists before I could touch him further. “Layla, stop.”

The word hit like a slap but I didn't let it stop me.

“Why?” I asked, my voice a whisper now. “Because it’s late?”

“Because I’m tired.” His tone sounded final.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice. “You’re always tired lately.”

“Because I work. All day. Every day, to provide for you.”

I searched his face for softness, for any flicker of the man I’d fallen in love with. “Then let me help you relax,” I murmured, leaning closer again. “Please.”

He sighed, pushing me back slightly rough. “Layla, it’s not happening tonight.”

“It’s been months.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. “Do you even want me anymore?”

His jaw tightened. “Can we not do this right now?”

“I’m just asking,” I whispered. “You used to..

“Layla.” His voice rose really high this time. “I said stop.”

My throat closed around the words that wanted to come out. I nodded quickly, pretending it didn’t sting.

“Right,” I said, my voice cracking only once. “Of course. You’re tired.”

I climbed off him slowly, careful not to let my tears show. He turned to his side, facing away from me, already half gone.

I stood there for a moment, the weight of his rejection heavier than any hurt I could imagine, and it hurts more knowing that he was willing to do it with someone else.

Quietly, I walked back to the bathroom, the same path I’d taken with hope just minutes ago.

I looked at myself again in the mirror, in the lingerie that suddenly felt like a costume, like a joke that he just laughed at. Tears welled up before I could stop them. I pressed a hand to my mouth to keep the sobs from escaping.

How do you fight for something that doesn’t want to be fought for anymore?

I leaned on the sink and let the tears fall freely this time. They blurred my reflection, and maybe that was a good thing, because the woman I saw staring back at me wasn’t a wife anymore, she was a stranger, one who loved too much and received too little.