Chapter 2

EMILY’S POV

The sunlight rays filter through the curtains as I stir awake. For a brief moment, everything feels right—perfect even. I feel content. In that moment, I’m blissfully unaware of everything else—but then I shift. The gentle warmth of Carlos' arm around me tightens as I stir, as if he doesn’t want to let go. The familiar scent of his skin fills my senses, and for a split second, I allow myself to enjoy the feeling.

 I’m warm and safe, nestled in Carlos’s arms. His breath is soft against my hair. His body radiates a heat I’ve come to crave more than I’d like to admit. I feel perfect in his arms. It’s almost like we were made for each other.

This is what I’ve always wanted: to wake up next to him, to feel like I belong here. To be a perfect married couple. I want our mornings to be like this all the time.

But as soon as the thought crosses my mind, I feel sad again and my chest tightens painfully. The joy isgone before it even has a chance to settle. He isn’t mine. Maybe he never truly was. Not really. He’s already made his decision. He wants a divorce. The thought sinks in, and it feels like someone ripped out my heart and stepped on it.

I carefully slip out of his embrace, trying not to wake him, but my movements are sharp. My hands are shaking as I pull the sheets away. I can feel the absence of him before I even leave the bed. I can’t be here, not like this. Not so close to him, especially when I know what he's planning.

The bed shifts slightly behind me as I stand, and just as I’m about to walk toward the bathroom, I hear him stir.

"Emily?" His voice is groggy.

I don’t turn around, don’t let myself look at him. I walk quickly to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I lean against the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at me looks so… lost. So different from the woman I want to be.

Memories flood my mind, one after another. There was a time, years ago, when I looked up at Carlos like he was my hero, my protector. He was kidnapped when he was much younger. He was the teenage boy who came into my life when my grandmother took him in. I was just a kid then, but I remembered everything—the way my grandmother treated him with such warmth, and how he seemed so grateful for it. He was strong, even then. He could’ve gotten away from those men who kidnapped him, but he stayed with us. For a week. I admired him from that moment on.

My grandmother had always said I was lucky to have Carlos in my life. She made sure I knew how much he meant to our family. And then, when she fell ill, she was the one who insisted Carlos marry me. Her voice, so frail and desperate, rang in my ears. "You have to marry her, Carlos. Please, for her future."

His agreement had been more of a promise to her than anything. He made it clear from the start that this was a marriage of convenience. There was someone else—Lina, his first love. But he couldn’t be with her, not yet.  Lina made the decision to go abroad to study. Her dreams were important and she couldn’t compromise. She didn’t like the idea of a long distance relationship either. 

So, he married me. For her sake, for his family’s sake.

And I... I hid my feelings for him. I had no choice but to bury them and pretend everything was cordial. I had to. He never saw me any other way. I was just his “little sister.”

But then… something shifted.

The year we spent together was blissful, more than I’d ever dreamed. Carlos treated me with tenderness, with care. He was kinder than I expected. At first, it felt like a dream. I kept telling myself to enjoy it for what it was, and nothing more. But it was hard because I love him.

But then came that one night—one night where everything changed. He was drunk, and so was I, but it didn’t matter. He kissed me, and I kissed him back. The chemistry between us was undeniable, and one thing led to another. We had mind-blowing sex. It was the best night of my life.

And after that, things between us were different. He was more attentive, more affectionate. I couldn’t help but think that maybe he was beginning to feel what I had felt all along. Maybe he was starting to care for me too.

But yesterday shattered all of that.

I snap myself out of my thoughts as I hear Carlos stir again from the bed. The door to the bathroom is still closed, but I know he’s probably awake now. I can almost hear the sound of his breath deepening. He’s probably wondering why I slipped out so quickly.

When I walk back into the bedroom, I keep my distance. His eyes meet mine, and for a brief moment, I see that flicker of something in his gaze. Maybe guilt, maybe regret. I can’t tell. He sits up, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Emily…” He pauses as if unsure what to say, and I feel a lump form in my throat.

There’s silence between us. I’m waiting for him to speak, for him to say something, anything—but all he does is stare at me, like he’s trying to read the emotion in my eyes.

“Good morning” I mutter as I leave the room.

I act as if nothing is wrong. I prepare his breakfast as usual and I serve it to him on the dining table. As I set everything up, I can feel him watching me, studying me. I act like I don’t see him. I even plaster on a fake smile to act like everything is alright.

We eat breakfast in silence this morning. I say nothing and neither does he.

Finally, he speaks “If Grandmother asks, tell her it was your decision to divorce.”

My heart breaks at the words. I try to hide the pain in my heart. He doesn’t see it, though. He doesn’t seem to notice the way my world is crumbling around me.

“I understand,” I reply quietly, not looking up from my food

He nods once, then rises from the bed. His movements are stiff, like he’s made up his mind. Like he’s already gone. He doesn’t look back at me.

When he leaves for work, I sit alone in the empty house. The walls feel so cold, so distant.

The warmth of the past year feels like a memory, one I can never hold on to.