CHAPTER 2

Lydia pressed her lips together, but the sob escaped anyway.

The hospital door opened before she could respond.

“Hey, Lydia.”

Clara walked in with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a flask in the other. She wore a soft pink dress, her hair perfectly arranged, and a smile that looked almost too delicate for the occasion. Her eyes moved between Williams and Lydia before settling on her face.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, placing the flowers on the small table. “I asked the cook to prepare your favourite soup. You must be exhausted after everything.”

Williams immediately rose from his chair to take the flask from her.

“Careful. It's still hot,” he warned, adjusting his grip so she wouldn't burn herself.

Lydia watched them, her chest tightening at the familiarity of the gesture. He had never been that attentive to her, not even when she was struggling through the worst days of her pregnancy.

“Thank you,” Clara murmured, offering him a grateful smile before turning back to Lydia. “I hope you aren't still upset with Williams. He only wanted what was best for everyone.”

Something inside Lydia snapped.

“Get that thing away from me.”

Clara blinked, her fingers tightening around the flask. “Lydia?”

“I said get it away!”

Lydia shoved the flask before Clara could move. It slipped from her hands, hit the floor, and spilled its contents across the tiles.

“Ah!” Clara cried, jumping backwards as the hot soup splashed against her feet.

Williams was beside her in an instant.

“Clara!” He caught her by the arm, checking her feet before pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. “Are you burned? Let me see.”

“I'm fine,” she whispered, although her eyes had already filled with tears. “I think a little got on my skin.”

He crouched to inspect her feet, his jaw tightening before he turned towards Lydia.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Lydia?”

Lydia stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

“You could have hurt her!” He rose, his voice sharp enough to make her flinch. “She's only trying to be nice to you, and this is how you repay her?”

Lydia pushed herself upright, ignoring the sharp pull in her lower abdomen. “You are worried about her getting hurt?”

“Of course I am!”

“Your wife just gave birth, Williams!” Her voice broke as she pointed at herself. “Your wife is lying in this hospital bed after carrying a child that was never hers, and you are worried about a little soup spilling on the floor?”

“Don't bring that nonsense into this again.” He threw the stained handkerchief onto the table. “You knew we wanted a child. Clara needed one too. What exactly is the problem?”

Lydia stared at him, her throat tightening around a laugh that never quite came.

“I used to think the devil had horns and a frightening face,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I didn't know he could wear an expensive suit and call himself my husband.”

“Lydia, that's enough.” Williams straightened his shirt, his expression hardening. “You're behaving like a selfish woman.”

“Selfish?”

“Yes. You always talk about how much you love women and how you understand their struggles. Yet you can't even spare a little compassion for Clara. She lost her husband. She has spent years living with that emptiness, and all she wanted was a child to call her own.”

Clara lowered her head, pressing a tissue against the corner of her eye.

“Please, Williams, don't say that,” she murmured, reaching for his arm. “I don't want you to fight because of me.”

He covered her hand with his. “You don't have to defend yourself, Clara.”

She turned towards Lydia, her lower lip trembling. “Lydia, I'm sorry. I truly am. I never wanted things to happen this way, but you know how lonely I've been since my husband died. I just wanted someone to call me Mommy. I never thought it would cost you this much.”

Her voice broke, and she looked down at her hands.

“Williams has been so kind to me. He only wanted to help. Please, don't let this destroy your marriage. If you want, I can—”

“Stop!”

The word tore out of Lydia's throat.

Clara fell silent, her eyes widening as Lydia struggled to control her breathing. She could no longer stand the sound of Clara pretending to be the victim. She had everything she wanted, yet she had come into Lydia's hospital room to offer her soup and an apology she didn't mean.

“All I ever did wrong was to love you, Williams.” Lydia turned towards her husband, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I loved you so much that I kept finding excuses for the way you treated me. I defended you when your family humiliated me."

Her fingers dug into the bedsheet.

“I gave you seven years of my life. Seven years, Williams. And you couldn't even give me the dignity of knowing what was happening to my own body.”

His expression shifted briefly, but he quickly looked away.

“Don't make this sound like I forced you to do something terrible. You carried a healthy child, and Clara finally has a family of her own. There is nothing wrong with what we did.”

Lydia stared at him.

There was no regret in his voice. Not even a trace of shame.

That was when she understood that he wasn't waiting for her to forgive him. He genuinely believed he had done nothing wrong.

“You made me a tool,” she whispered. “You took the one thing I wanted more than anything in this world and turned it into a weapon against me.”

“Lydia, you're being dramatic.” Williams took a step towards the bed. “Lie down before you hurt yourself.”

“Don't touch me!”

He stopped.

Lydia threw the bedsheet aside and attempted to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. A sharp pain shot through her abdomen, forcing her to grip the mattress, but she refused to lie back down.

“Lydia, what are you doing?” Clara hurried forward, her hand half-extended. “You just had surgery. Please, don't strain yourself.”

Lydia looked at her hand until she slowly withdrew it.

“Don't pretend to care about me.”

“I'm only concerned about your health,” she replied, her voice growing smaller.

“Then keep your concern to yourself.”

Williams moved between them. “That's enough. You're not going to speak to Clara like that.”

Lydia looked at him, then at the woman hiding behind his shoulder.

Seven years ago, she had thought she was the luckiest woman alive when Williams proposed to her.

Instead, she had become a stranger in her own marriage, watching another woman receive the tenderness she had spent years begging for.

She pushed herself to her feet.

“Lydia, get back into that bed!” Williams barked, reaching for her arm.

She slapped his hand away.

“Don't you dare give me orders.”

“Have you lost your mind?” His face darkened as he stared at her.

“No. I think I've finally found it.”

Lydia turned towards Clara. She was still standing behind him, one hand wrapped around his arm. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and the sorrowful expression Clara had been wearing disappeared.

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

It was gone almost immediately, replaced by that familiar look of helpless innocence.

But Lydia had seen it.

She had seen the satisfaction Clara could no longer conceal.

Before she could think twice, Lydia stepped forward and brought her palm across Clara's cheek.

The slap echoed through the room.

“Lydia!” Williams roared, lunging towards her.

Lydia barely gave him time to reach her before she turned and slapped him too.

His head jerked to the side. For a moment, neither of them moved.

Lydia looked at the red mark spreading across his cheek, then met his furious eyes.

“That,” she said, her chest rising and falling, “is for every time you made me feel guilty for asking you to treat me like your wife.”

“Have you completely lost your respect for me?” he demanded, rubbing his cheek.

Lydia let out a humourless laugh. “Respect? You want me to respect you?”

Clara touched her cheek, her eyes filling with fresh tears. “Lydia, please. Don't be violent. I know you're hurt, but this isn't going to solve anything.”

Lydia turned towards her so sharply that Clara instinctively stepped behind Williams again.

“Not another word from you, Clara Wayne. I have listened to your lies for long enough. You don't get to come into my hospital room, stand beside my husband, and tell me how I should feel about the life you both stole from me.”

“Lydia, watch your mouth!” Williams snapped, moving closer to Clara.

Lydia shook her head slowly.

“You know what is most humiliating about all this? It isn't even the fact that you betrayed me. It's that you have spent seven years making me believe I wasn't enough for you, only for me to discover that you were perfectly capable of being a good husband. Just not to me.”

His lips parted, but no words came out.

Lydia wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. Her body was aching, her legs were unsteady, and her heart felt as though someone had reached inside her chest and torn it apart. But beneath all that pain, something had finally gone quiet.

She no longer wanted an explanation.

And, for the first time in seven years, she no longer wanted Williams Osborne.

“You smell of shame and disgust,” she told him, holding his gaze. “I spent so much time praying for this marriage to work that I forgot I was the only one fighting for it.”

“Lydia, calm down,” he said, lowering his voice as though that would somehow undo everything. “We can discuss this when you're feeling better. Don't make decisions you'll regret.”

She looked at him and almost smiled.

“You should be more worried about the decisions you've already made.”

He reached towards her again, but she stepped away.

“As far as I'm concerned, the marriage between us has expired, Williams. Whatever remains can be handled by our lawyers.”

His expression changed. “What did you just say?”

Lydia held his gaze, refusing to let the tears gathering in her eyes fall.

“I said I'm done being your wife.”