Chapter Ten

“You know you’re not going to leave,” Selene heard her mother’s familiar voice say as her hand hovered over the doorknob.

Her throat tightened. With a shaky breath, she whispered, “I am. I will.”

“Then what?” her mother’s voice pressed, sharp and unyielding. “What happens afterwards? You disappear, Cole files a missing report, pretends to be heartbroken while still wrapped around Scarlett’s waist. And you? You’ll just be another forgotten wife. Is that it?”

Selene’s chest rose and fell quickly. “I—I just… I just need to clear my head,” she stammered.

“From what? Don’t you see the truth right in front of you? Act on it!” the voice barked, full of bitterness.

Selene whimpered, covering her mouth with trembling hands as a sob clawed its way up her throat. The suitcase slipped from her fingers. Her other hand fell from the knob. She stood frozen, shaking, caught between fury and despair.

A deep sigh came from her mother’s figure, softer this time. “Fine. Do what you want. I’m done.”

Then silence.

The air stilled. Her mother’s figure faded, leaving Selene alone in the room, shoulders trembling. Slowly, her knees buckled, lowering her to the floor. Her palms stayed pressed to her mouth, muffling the sound of her grief.

Her mind spun, racing through the events of the day—the pity in Michael’s eyes, the anger in Eileen’s voice, the careful sympathy laced into every word. All of it made her want to scream.

Her breathing grew jagged until her stomach lurched. She rushed into the bathroom, bent over the sink, and vomited. The sour taste burned her throat. After rinsing her mouth and splashing cold water over her face, she lifted her gaze to the mirror.

The woman staring back was pale, hollow-eyed, and tired. Yet behind the exhaustion was something harder, darker. Her eyes narrowed. Her jaw set. For a fleeting moment, she saw a version of herself she almost admired—unyielding, sharp, no longer naive.

But it was only a moment. She wasn’t strong enough to hold onto it. Not yet.

She let the reflection fade, showered, changed into something soft, and crawled into bed.

It was three in the morning when the nightmare came. But this one was different from how it usually was.

Her body tossed and turned beneath the sheets, her brow furrowed, soft whimpers slipping through clenched teeth.

In her dream, she stood inside the church where she had once said her vows. The air smelled of roses and candle wax, but the silence carried an ominous weight.

To her right stood Cole, beaming in his black suit. On her left was Scarlett, radiant in her sky-blue bridesmaid’s dress, smiling as though nothing had ever gone wrong. She turned around and saw their friends and family smiling too. Selene glanced down—she was back in her wedding gown, veil draped delicately across her face.

The officiant’s voice rang out, calm and measured. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Cole stepped toward her, grin widening. But as he neared, his hand slipped behind his back and reemerged gripping a knife. Before she could move, the blade pierced her chest.

“Die, you motherfucking bitch!” he snarled, twisting the knife until pain ripped through her heart.

Selene collapsed to the ground, blood spreading fast beneath her gown. Around her, cruel laughter erupted. Cole. Scarlett. Yeshua. Robin. Even the officiant. They were all laughing. At her. Every last one of them. Hot tears streamed down her face.

Selene’s body weakened, her vision dimming as the blood spilled and pooled beneath her on the floor. The sound of their laughter grew louder.

Scarlett sauntered forward, plucked the veil from Selene’s head, and slipped seamlessly into her place beside Cole.

The officiant, unfazed, repeated the same words again.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

They kissed and the church erupted in applause as Selene lay dying on the cold, sacred floor.

Selene tried to scream, but only a gurgle escaped her throat. Cole and Scarlett turned to her and stepped closer.

“Now your company belongs to us, you dead corpse,” Scarlett sneered.

Then, suddenly, she was in a grave.

Cold dirt pressed against her skin. She was buried up to her neck, the knife still embedded in her chest. Maggots crawled across her dress, writhing into folds, tickling and nesting as they crept over her body.

Scarlett and Cole stood at the edge, looking down at her with detached indifference. Then they turned and walked away.

“No… no, no, no,” Selene whimpered, thrashing her head as the maggots crawled higher. When they reached her face, she screamed. “No!”

They slid past her lips, into her mouth. She gagged, suffocating.

Selene shot upright with a violent gasp. Her shirt clung to her damp skin, soaked in sweat. The clock read 4:30 a.m.

Her breath came in ragged bursts. She clawed at her face, patting her cheeks, her hair, desperate to shake them off. “No. No. No,” she muttered, scrubbing her arms until her skin burned. She stumbled out of bed, ripped her clothes away, and bolted into the bathroom.

The maggots. They were still on her. She could feel them crawling everywhere.

Cole and Scarlett had done this to her.

The shower hissed to life. She stood beneath it, nails dragging across her skin until it turned raw and red. Still, she could feel them. Still, she swore she felt their crawling weight.

“They brought it here,” she whispered. “They filled this house with filth. The rot… it's everywhere.”

No.

She had to clean it.

Drenched, trembling, she dressed quickly and rushed downstairs, heading straight for the cleaning supplies.

“Everywhere is dirty. The maggots are everywhere,” she repeated under her breath as she dropped to her knees with a rag and bucket. She scrubbed at the kitchen floor, then the counters, then the sink—again and again, as if the act itself could purge the memory.

By five, the clatter of utensils stirred Maria awake. She usually rises around this time, but never to noise like this. Alarmed, she hurried into the kitchen.

Selene was bent over the sink, scrubbing furiously. Her lips moved in a frantic whisper, her movements unsteady.

Maria’s chest tightened. She took a deep breath and stepped closer.

“Ma’am,” she said softly.

Selene spun, and immediately she let go of the sponge and pan, rushing to grab Maria’s arms with her wet, trembling hands.

“Maria. Oh, thank God you’re here. They’re everywhere—the maggots, the dirt. All over the dishes. All over the floor. Why don’t you clean properly? I tried. I scrubbed them off.”

Her voice came fast and breathless, her eyes wide and panicked.

Maria reached up, cupping her face gently. “There aren’t any maggots, ma’am. Look. The house is clean.”

Selene blinked rapidly, glancing around. The kitchen was spotless. Confusion overtook her panic, and then grief. Tears spilled over, streaming down her cheeks.

Maria stroked her face. “No, no. Don’t cry. It’s alright. Did you take your medication last night?”

“Huh?” Selene mumbled, dazed.

“I’ll get it. I keep an extra bottle, remember?” Maria said, stepping back.

Selene caught her hand, whispering, “I’m sorry.”

Maria smiled gently. “For what? This is my job. Sit tight. I’ll be back, alright?”

She returned moments later with the pills. Selene swallowed them wordlessly. Together, they moved to the living room. Maria sat close, taking her hands in hers.

“Tell me,” Maria said quietly. “What’s going on? You only clean like that when something’s eating you alive.”

Selene lowered her head, shoulders trembling. “Cole… he’s cheating on me. With Scarlett. I didn’t know until now. Did you?”

Maria’s pause said enough. Finally, she murmured, “No. But I suspected.”

Selene’s head jerked up, eyes wet. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“I had no proof,” Maria said softly. “And a truth like that? It’s not something you say without certainty.”

Selene scoffed bitterly, dragging her hand across her damp cheeks. “What do I even do now, Maria?”

Maria inhaled deeply. “In my country, there’s a saying: Omnia debita solventur. It means, ‘All debts must be paid.’ What you do with that… is yours to decide. But me if you ask me… I think they owe you. And it’s time to collect. Don't you want to?”

Selene’s lips trembled. Her answer was almost a whisper. “I want to. God, I want to.”

“Then do it,” Maria urged, squeezing her hand. “Make them pay.”

For the first time that night, Selene smiled—small, fragile, but real.

“Can I borrow your phone?” she asked.

Maria fetched it quickly. Selene dialed, her fingers steady.

“Eileen,” she said when the line picked up. Her voice carried no tremor now. “Clear my schedule for tomorrow. We’re going to the vacation house.”

“Yes, ma’am,” came the reply.

Selene ended the call and set the phone down. Maria wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

“You did good,” Maria whispered.

Selene leaned into her warmth. And across the room, her mother’s figure appeared again—calm, proud, and smiling as though, at last, Selene had taken her first true step.