Chapter two

“Hey Kris.”

She looked up at me, smiling like this was just another Thursday. Hair curled, legs crossed, wearing one of those blazers that said I’m important but relaxed. She held a glass of wine, nails painted pale pink, soft, perfect, smug.

I blinked, trying to catch up.

“What’s this?” I asked, chuckling, confused. “When did Sofia become a surprise guest to me?”

My eyes flicked to Christian, my husband, standing next to her like a statue. He wasn’t smiling. No sheepish grin. No nervous twitches. No wink to say go with it, babe. Just… still. Like he’d already left the room hours ago and forgot to take his body with him.

“I’m serious,” I said, half-laughing now. “What’s going on?”

Christain took a breath, then sat down across from me like this was some calm, adult conversation. Like we were about to go over the tax returns together. “You should sit too.”

That’s when my chest tightened.

“Why?” I asked, still standing. Still holding the damp kitchen towel I’d been using to wipe down the counter.

Sofia sipped her wine. Calm. Too calm. Like she already knew how this would go. Like she’d rehearsed it.

“I need to tell you something,” Christain said. “And I don’t want to drag it out.”

I stared at him. His voice was too calm. Too even. Too practiced.

Then he said it.

“She’s not just a friend, Nadine . Sofia is my wife. My real wife.”

My jaw clenched before my brain caught up.

“What?”

“She’s my real wife,” he said again. “You… you were just… filling in." A substitute, I guess.”

I waited for him to laugh. For Sofia to roll her eyes and say we’re messing with you. But nothing. No punchline. No wink. No twist. Just silence.

And that’s when I realized. I was the only one laughing.

The towel dropped from my hand, forgotten on the hardwood floor.

“I’m sorry… What?” My voice cracked, thin and high and brittle.

“You need to start packing,” he said. She’s moving in. I want you out by the weekend.”

I looked at Sofia . She didn’t even flinch. Didn’t blink. Didn’t look away.

I wasn’t actually expecting her to flinch or do something nice. That was who she was. A sweet devil. Sweet on the surface, like sugared glass, but a devil underneath. Cold. Sharp. Dangerous if you hold her too long.

“You’re joking,” I said. “This is some messed-up test or prank or something, right?”

Christain shook his head. “No, Nadine . I’m not joking. I married Sofia years ago. We had problems. Took a break. I met you. Things happened fast. I thought it was over with her, but we reconnected. This is what I want now.”

"My throat went dry, like every drop of moisture had been sucked out of me in a second. “So what was I? Practice? A placeholder?”

He looked away. “You were part of my life. I’m not saying you meant anything. But Sofia is my wife. I made a mistake thinking I could just move on like that.”

I took a step back, then another. "My heart was racing so hard I could feel it in my ears, my fingertips, my teeth. “You said you divorced her. You told me she was out of your life.”

“I said a lot of things,” he replied. I needed time. I thought I was done, but I wasn’t.”

I turned to Sofia . “You know?”

She nodded. “I gave him space to figure it out." He came back. I waited because I knew he would.”

“You waited while I built a life with him?” I said, my voice rising. While I moved in? Shared bills? Slept next to him every night?”

“I knew it wouldn’t last,” she said calmly. “It never does when it’s not real.”

I felt like the floor was tilting. Like I was standing on the edge of something huge and hollow.

“You planned this?”

“No,” Christain said quickly. No one planned anything. It’s just how things unfolded. I didn’t know she’d come back. I didn’t know I’d feel the same way again.”

“And what about me?” I snapped. What about how I feel? "You’re just tossing me out like trash?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But it’s better to be honest now than keep pretending.”

Honest.

That word made me laugh. A bitter, sharp thing that cut my throat on the way out. “You think this is honesty? After all the lies? After the birthdays, holidays, family dinners, all the plans we made?”

“I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

“I wrapped your damn Christmas presents by hand,” I said. I threw you a surprise party. I held you after your sister’s car accident. "Does any of that mean anything to you now?”

He said nothing.

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold. “How long have you known? That you wanted her back?”

He hesitated. And that hesitation was the answer.

“A few months.”

A few months.

I stared at him, the man I thought I knew. The same hands that held mine in the hospital when my mom died. Same voice that whispered "I love you in the dark." Same body I’d curled up next to every night thinking it was mine.

A few months. And he just let me keep loving him while he made room for her.

“You could’ve told me the second you started having doubts,” I said. But you didn’t. You kept me here like… like a backup plan.”

He didn’t reply. And I didn’t even want him to. What could he say that would matter now?

What was I to him these past years? A substitute?

“I cooked dinner for you last night,” I whispered. “I kissed you goodbye this morning.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Sofia stood up, straightening her blazer. “I think this conversation’s gone as far as it can.”

I shot her a look. “You don’t get to tell me when to stop.”

Christain raised his hand like he was already tired of me. “Nadine , please don’t make this ugly.”

“Ugly?” I snapped. “You just broke my life open like it was nothing, and now I’m supposed to walk away quietly, so your real wife can move in?”

Sofia placed her wine glass down, careful not to spill a drop. “We’re not trying to hurt you. We’re just moving on.”

“You were never here not to hurt me,” I said, backing away.

My vision was blurred. I turned and walked down the hallway. I didn’t want to cry in front of them. Not them. Not now. I wouldn’t give them that.

“You have until Sunday,” Christain called out.

I stopped. My back is still to them.

My hands clenched into fists. “You don’t get to give me deadlines.”

I stood there for a second, listening to the silence. Listening to Sofia ’s smug quiet. To Christain ’s tired guilt. I could almost hear the scraping sound of them moving on without me.

Then I walked into the bedroom and closed the door, not gently.

I leaned against it. Heart pounding. Eyes dry, but only for now. Tears were coming. I could feel them building like pressure behind glass.

This was my life. My home. My bed. My toothbrush on their counter. My laundry is in the hamper. My memories are painted on every wall.

And now, none of it is mine anymore.

I was a placeholder.

A substitute.

And apparently, I had three days to disappear.