THREE

ELENA

I knew our marriage was in trouble. I felt it for a long time, the widening gap between us, the way his eyes no longer lingered on me, the coldness that crept into his voice. I saw all the signs, every one of them, but I never imagined he would abandon me… abandon our child… when we needed him most. And yet, he had. He chose to stay with Isabelle.

Isabelle, his first love. The ghost who never really left his heart. I always knew I was the replacement, the second choice. If she hadn’t suddenly disappeared and left him without a bride, I wouldn’t even be here. I wouldn’t be Mrs. Damian Blackwood.

And yet, foolishly, I believed he had chosen me. I believed he understood the weight of marriage, that we were both bound to uphold our vows of fidelity, of loyalty. I thought… maybe, just maybe, he had come to see me. To see us.

But I was wrong.

The realisation pressed against my chest until I could hardly breathe. My lungs felt tight, the room too small, the air too thin. I rubbed my belly, my trembling hands seeking comfort in the gentle swell that was our child. I took deep, shaky breaths, trying to calm the storm tearing me apart.

But some wounds never healed. Some betrayals carved themselves too deep.

***

“He hung up on me, Paulina.” My voice was so soft I barely recognised it as my own. “I told him something had happened, that I wasn’t feeling well… and he hung up. No matter how many times I called afterwards, he didn’t answer.”

Paulina sat at the head of my bed, brows drawn tight with worry. She looked at me as though trying to reason her way into a version of events that hurt less.

“Are you sure he heard what you said? Maybe he was really busy at the time. I’m not defending him, Elena, it’s just… Damian doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would ignore something like that.”

I let out a weak smile, one that even I didn’t believe in. The expression felt hollow, almost mocking.

“He heard me, Paulina. He heard it clearly.” My voice cracked as the truth tore through me again. “But he was busy… busy accompanying Isabelle.”

When I lifted my eyes to Paulina, I caught my reflection in them, my desperate, broken face staring back at me through her shock.

I lowered my voice, forcing each word past the lump in my throat, trying desperately to keep it from trembling.

“He showed up this morning… with Isabelle.”

Paulina’s head snapped, her whole body stiffening before she shook it vigorously, almost violently, like she could erase the image from existence if she just denied it hard enough. Her hand tightened around mine, warm and firm, as though she could will her belief into me.

“Maybe this is a misunderstanding, Elena,” she said quickly, her voice thick with urgency. “They may have just met by chance. Yes, they were lovers, but that was years ago. Years. Maybe… maybe this isn’t what you think it is.”

I wanted to believe her. God, how I wanted to, but my heart knew better. The signs had been there for months, whispering, scratching at me in the silence of long nights. I’d eaten dinner alone too many times to count, pushing cold food around the plate until it blurred with tears. I’d sat through prenatal check-ups with only the doctor’s clipped words for company, my husband’s chair beside me always empty. And every night, I waited in our bed, waited until exhaustion dragged me under, only to wake to find him still not home.

My lips curled into a bitter half-smile.

“Paulina… if it’s really a misunderstanding, then why have I been living like I’m already alone?”

The words broke something inside me, because saying them out loud made it real.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to bridge the ever-widening distance between us. Every effort fell flat, every smile of mine met with silence, every question brushed aside until I stopped asking. The truth pressed against my chest, aching to be spoken, and finally I let it out.

“I think he’s cheating on me,” I whispered, my voice raw, “and he’s rekindled his romance with Isabelle.”

The words left me like a confession, sharp and ugly, but strangely freeing. A relief. As if I’d finally stopped holding my breath after months of suffocating. Maybe I’d known all along, seen it in his cold glances, felt it in the way his hand no longer reached for mine but I’d lied to myself, wrapped myself in the hope that denial could keep me safe.

Paulina’s face darkened, her jaw tightening as though the very idea disgusted her.

“Maybe… maybe there’s a misunderstanding,” she said, but her voice wavered. “If he really cheated, Elena, how could he dare show up with that woman in front of you? And you’re carrying his child?”

Her cheeks flushed, hers eyes restless as she scrambled for a comfort that didn’t exist. I almost laughed at her expression, if I hadn’t been so hollowed out, so tired that even breathing felt like an effort.

Still, a small part of me latched onto her reasoning. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there was something left to clarify before I let myself drown completely.

I sank deeper into the pillows, rubbing the swell of my belly with a shaky hand.

“You’re right,” I murmured, though my voice carried no conviction. “There are things I need to ask him. Things I need to know, even if I don’t like the answers.”