Chapter Two

A dull ache pulsed behind my eyes, making it difficult to think as I slowly opened them. Sunlight streamed through curtains I didn’t recognize, making me squint.

I lay there for a while, searching my foggy mind for any clue about where I was or how I had gotten there. But the harder I tried to remember, the more everything seemed to slip away.

Then I pushed myself upright, making the blanket slip from my shoulder. That was when I noticed something was wrong. I wasn't wearing the clothes I'd had on before I passed out.

A strange sense of unease settled over me when slowly, I turned my head to the side.

A man I had never seen before was sleeping beside me.

Cold dread crawled down my spine. I jumped out of the bed, frightened that he might wake up.

Terrifying thoughts raced through my mind as I hurried to get dressed, my hands trembling so badly that I struggled with every button. I wanted nothing more than to get out of that room and put as much distance between myself and the nightmare I'd woken up to.

Once I was dressed, I rushed toward the door, desperate to leave without looking back.

I left the place as quickly as I could. I spent the entire drive trying to calm myself down. It didn't help. The fear and guilt clinging to me had worsened. My mind was a mess. I desperately tried to remember what had happened after I started drinking, but everything after that was a blur. All I knew was that I had to get home before anyone found out.

Twenty minutes later, my car pulled into the driveway. I took a deep breath, stepped out of the car, and quietly opened the front door, praying I could slip inside without being noticed.

My husband usually leaves for the family-owned resort hotel before nine. By this hour, he would already be in his office, busy with meetings and the daily demands of managing the property.

If I was lucky, I could make it upstairs without crossing paths with anyone, shower, change, and come up with a believable excuse for why I had disappeared all night.

I closed the door as softly as possible. The house was quiet. I let out a sigh of relief. Maybe I had worried for nothing.

I tiptoed across the foyer, clutching my handbag tightly against my chest, desperate to forget everything that had happened. But I was foolish to think walking away would be enough to escape what had happened.

"I'm glad you're finally home."

The deep male voice shattered the silence.

"Ah!"

I let out a startled shriek, nearly dropping my handbag. I spun around so quickly that I almost lost my balance. There, seated comfortably on the sofa, was my husband.

He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, his tie neatly fastened as though he had been ready to leave hours ago. One long leg rested over the other while one arm lay casually along the back of the sofa.

A cup of coffee sat untouched on the table in front of him.

"H-Honey..."

He slowly lifted his eyes.

"Where were you last night?"

My heart lurched. I opened my mouth, but the words were lodged in my throat.

"It doesn't matter." His voice was frighteningly calm, stripped of every trace of emotion. "I'm letting you know I'm divorcing you, Elizabeth. My lawyer is already preparing the papers. Once they're done, I just need your signature."

The world seemed to turn in dizzying slow motion. I just stared at him, unable to process what I had heard.

Finally recovering my senses, I forced myself to walk toward his direction. I lowered myself onto the seat beside him, leaving only a small space between us.

I carefully reached for his hand, but before my fingers could touch him, he quietly moved it away.

"I-I know you're going through a lot right now," I began, my voice trembling despite my efforts to remain calm. "Your grandfather's death wasn't easy and I can't even imagine how painful that must be. But please…. don't make decisions when you're not in your right mind."

For the first time, my husband looked directly into my eyes, and what I saw made my stomach sink. There was no warmth left in them. It was as if I were a stranger he had just met for the first time.

"It's my decision alone, Elizabeth." His eyes remained painfully indifferent. "I've given you everything. A name, a place to stay, luxury you never dreamed of—everything a girl could desire. But all I've ever asked in return was a child." His accusatory gaze bored into mine. "But why can't you give that to me?"

I flinched as if his words had struck me. I had spent years trying to give him the one thing he desired most. But life has taken that dream away from us time and time again. The repeated loss of our unborn children had left wounds inside me that never truly healed, wounds I carried silently even as I tried to keep moving forward.

"You think I chose to miscarry? You think I wanted to lose our baby? I wanted to give you a family! I wanted to be a mother too!"

Just for a moment, his mask broke, as if my pain was reaching him through the wall he had constructed. But it was fleeting, and soon the coldness returned.

"You say that, but it's been six years."

I lowered my gaze, my vision blurring behind a fresh wave of tears.

When Crimson had married me, I knew his heart had never truly belonged to me. Our marriage had begun with obligation. Still, I had believed that if I loved him enough, cared for him enough, and stood beside him through every hardship, one day he would look at me the way I looked at him.

I thought time would soften his heart. How foolish I had been.

All this time, while I had been dreaming of being with him until we grew old, he had been counting the years we had wasted.

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. There was nothing left to fight for.

If a person's heart never belonged to you in the first place, no amount of sacrifice could make it stay.

Slowly, I rose from the sofa. My knees felt weak, but I forced myself to stand. When I finally spoke, my voice was so quiet it was almost carried away by the silence.

"I won't force myself on someone who doesn't want me. As soon as the papers are complete, I'll sign them."

He looked genuinely surprised. Perhaps he had expected me to cry and refuse. Instead, I simply accepted his decision. Not because I wanted to. But because I had finally realized there was nothing left to save.

I lowered my eyes, afraid that if I looked at him any longer, the fragile composure I had gathered would shatter completely.

Without another word, I turned around and quietly walked toward the staircase.

By the time I reached our bedroom, the roar of a car engine echoed outside. A moment later, the sound faded farther and farther away until it disappeared completely.

The silence that followed was almost unbearable.

Slowly, my knees gave out. I sank at the foot of the bed, wrapping my arms around myself.

I had lost everything in less than twenty-four hours.

My dignity.

My marriage.

And the only place I had ever believed was home.