3

FREYA

Mark stopped halfway out the door like he already knew something was coming. He turned slowly, his brows pulled together, waiting for me to speak.

My throat felt tight. All the words I planned last night rushed up at once, tripping over each other. I swallowed hard and finally said it.

“Can you come home early today?” My voice cracked a little. “I want us to talk.”

He frowned like I had asked him for something outrageous. “Talk about what?”

Before I could explain, Luna rushed in, breathless and excited. She grabbed her schoolbag and some other stuff from the corner.

I looked at her for a second. She was busy pulling out her school shoes, so I lowered my voice.

“It’s important, Mark.”

He sighed, the kind of sigh that already blamed me for whatever inconvenience my feelings were about to cause. “Freya, you know how work is. I have meetings. I may not even be home for dinner.”

Of course. Dinner. The one thing he never ate at home anymore. And I, the stupid wife, kept believing him. My husband worked with The Newton Group, so apparently I had to be proud and accept the “always busy with meetings” excuse.

Luna suddenly looked up. “Daddy, will I still be spending my day at Aunty Lili’s place after school? You promised,” she asked, smiling like it was the best thing ever.

My stomach twisted so fast I felt dizzy.

Mark smiled at her. “Yes, princess. You will.”

I guess that was all it took. Everything inside me snapped sharply.

“You want to take my daughter out without telling me?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

Luna blinked at me. “Mommy, I was just asking be—”

“Will you keep quiet and go get ready for school?” I cut in. “I’m speaking with your father. Out.”

The shock on her little face was instant. Her lips trembled. She swallowed hard.

“Ok, Mom,” she whispered. Her voice was tiny. She walked out slowly, like her heart was dropping with every step.

The guilt hit me right away. That was my first time raising my voice at her. But I pushed it down. Because right now, I couldn’t deny it. I’m losing my mind.

Mark stared at me like I had slapped someone in front of him.

“What was that, Freya?” he asked. His tone carried that annoyed calmness he always used whenever he wanted to make me feel unreasonable.

“I can’t correct my daughter again?” I said with a bitter smile I couldn’t control.

“You call that correction?” he asked. Then he muttered, low but clear enough, “That’s why she doesn’t like you around her.”

I froze. “What do you mean?”

I stood up from the bed and walked toward him, staring right at him. “Then who does my daughter want around if not me?”

He rubbed his forehead like I was the one ruining his morning. “Freya, it’s too early for this. I don’t want to ruin it for myself and my daughter.”

He turned and started walking away.

“Mark.”

My voice stopped him again.

He turned just enough to show irritation, not concern.

“Your iPad,” I said. “I helped you clear it up and brought it to the bedroom.”

The moment I said it, I didn’t blink. I watched his face closely, the way someone watches a bomb they just placed on the table.

He flinched. A small, sharp reaction he tried to hide. His eyes darted for a second, like he was searching my expression for clues.

“You did?” he asked. Confused. Or pretending to be confused. I couldn’t tell.

I didn’t answer. I just kept looking at him, letting the silence do what my words couldn’t.

“You did?” he asked again, and the way his voice dipped made something inside me twist. He tried to hide it, but his eyes gave him away. That tiny flinch. That quick flash of panic. He looked like someone searching his mind too fast and trying not to show it.

I folded my arms, not to intimidate him, but to hold myself together. “Yes. I saw it on the counter, and I didn’t want Luna touching it. I wiped it down. Closed a few things. I brought it upstairs.”

He blinked again. Slower this time. Like he was buying himself seconds to breathe. “Freya… you touched my iPad?”

“Is that a problem?” I asked quietly.

His jaw tightened. “No. I just… I wasn’t expecting you to go through my things.”

“I didn’t say I went through anything,” I replied. “I said I cleared it. There’s a difference.”

We stared at each other, and the air between us felt heavier than the whole room. He looked away first. That alone told me enough.

Mark exhaled sharply, like he was done pretending. “You know what, Freya… instead of giving yourself a hard time…”

“Hard time?” I repeated

“I mean…” He waved his hand at me, like he was brushing off dust. “Maybe you should pay more attention to yourself. Maybe that can… fix things.”

I stared at him, confused. “Fix what exactly?”

He hesitated. He looked at me and looked away. Then he looked back like he’d forced himself to say it.

“Freya… Take a look at your stomach. Your shape. Your waist. I mean… you know… you look kind of… like….”

The words hit me like someone had swung something straight into my chest. My eyes burned instantly, hot and red. Not the soft kind of tears. The painful kind. The kind of anger it brings.

“Are you body shaming me right now, Mark?” My voice cracked, but it was still sharp.

He lifted his hands a bit. “I’m not shaming you. I’m just saying maybe if you—”

“After everything my body has been through? That’s what you have to say to me?” I stepped toward him, my breath shaky. “Do you remember the complications I had when I gave birth to Luna? Do you remember the blood loss? The stitches? The months I could barely stand straight without feeling like something inside me was tearing?”

He stared at me, but his face stayed cold. Blank. Like none of it mattered.

“I lost my tiny waist because I carried our daughter,” I said. “Because I survived something that almost took me away from her. And you’re pointing at my stomach?”

Mark shrugged slightly, still trying to act like he was making sense. “Freya… I’m just being honest. You don’t look the same. And maybe that’s part of why things feel… off. I’m just saying it could help if you worked on yourself.”

Something inside me just snapped.

I slapped him before I even realized my hand had moved. The sound cracked through the room, sharp and loud. His head jerked to the side, and for the first time, he actually looked speechless.

“I hate you”?

I turned and walked out immediately, my footsteps fast and uneven.

Tears were already spilling before I reached the hallway.

I wiped them with the back of my hand, but more came. I took the long corridor instead, the one that curved behind the guest rooms, just so Luna and the nanny wouldn’t see me like this.

My breath kept breaking in my chest as I walked, and my mind wouldn’t stop replaying his words. Your stomach… your waist… fix things.

Fix what?

Fix myself so I could be worth his attention again?

Fix myself so he wouldn’t look at other women?

My heart dropped hard. Because suddenly, everything made sense in the most painful way.

So he cheated because of this. He looked at me and saw someone he didn’t want anymore, and that stupid video I saw wasn’t just lust or a mistake. It was him choosing someone else because I wasn’t the girl with the tiny waist he married.

A sick feeling hit my throat.

Of course he’d run to her. His college friend. The model-looking one. The one with the long legs and flat stomach and perfect figure she never had to fight for. The one who looked exactly like the type of woman men cheat with in movies and real life.

I pressed my hand against the wall for balance, breathing hard.

“I will never forgive you for this, Mark.”