05

Zia's POV:

The warmth of Raymond's embrace lingered even after I was settled in his car, the heater blasting away the chill of the rain. His confession echoed in the silence, a truth so raw and unexpected it left me speechless. How could he possibly love me? Me, with my baggage of a marriage and a heart already claimed, however inadequately, by Lorenzo.

I snuck a glance at Raymond as he focused on navigating the rain-slicked streets. His brow was furrowed in concentration, yet an air of quiet contentment surrounded him. It was then I realised that his love wasn't a demand, but a simple offering. An offering I was in no position to accept, but one that planted a seed of doubt within the barren landscape of my heart.

"Raymond," I began, my voice barely a whisper, "You deserve someone who can...who can reciprocate those feelings. Someone who's..."

"Don't," he interrupted gently, his eyes still on the road. "Don't apologise for something you don't need to. Your happiness matters to me more than any answer you could give."

His words, devoid of pressure or expectation, were more potent than any grand gesture. They chipped away at the wall I'd erected around myself, a wall built from disappointment and unrequited love. For the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to entertain the possibility of a different kind of happiness. One that wasn't contingent on Lorenzo's fickle affections, but on the quiet strength and unwavering support of the man beside me.

The drive to my apartment passed in a blur of conflicting emotions. Gratitude for Raymond's kindness warred with the guilt of not deserving it, a nascent hope for the future tangled with the familiar ache of the present. As he walked me to my door, the rain finally relenting, I realized that Raymond had inadvertently given me a gift far more valuable than mere comfort on a rainy night. He had given me a glimpse of myself outside the confines of my marriage, a flicker of possibility that threatened to overturn the carefully constructed reality I'd built around Lorenzo.

I turned back to him, "Raymond, I really appreciate what you did. You know bringing me back home helps a lot in this rain?" I said as Raymond smiled back at me like he always does.

"Come on, it's nothing dear," Raymond replied, a hint of steel in his normally gentle voice. "Think about what I said. I hated the way he treats you."

His words hung heavy in the air, resonating with the unspoken truths I'd been trying to ignore. Before I could respond, he turned and walked back to his car, leaving me standing on the precipice of uncertainty.

Unlocking my apartment door, I stepped inside, the familiar scent of home a poor substitute for the comforting presence I’d just left behind. But the brief respite from the turmoil of the evening was not to be. Lorenzo stood in the living room, arms crossed, a thunderous expression on his face.

“Where were you?” he spat, his voice dripping with accusation. “I tried calling. Why weren’t you answering?”

A wave of weariness washed over me. This again. “My phone died,” I said, too tired to point out the irony of his concern. “I was at the concert, like you asked me to be.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he snarled, taking a menacing step closer. “I saw you. Getting out of that man’s car.”

My breath hitched. Of course. It was always about control with him, never concern. “Raymond gave me a ride home,” I said, my voice trembling despite my attempt at composure. “You left me stranded, remember?”

“So you run into the arms of another man?” he scoffed, his eyes blazing with a dangerous mix of anger and something else I couldn't quite place. “You’re pathetic, Zia. Utterly pathetic.”

The cruelty of his words, the complete lack of remorse for his own actions, was like a slap in the face. “You were with Sophia, weren't you?” I whispered, the question escaping before I could stop it.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Don’t change the subject,” he growled. “We’re talking about you and your blatant disrespect for this marriage.”

Disrespect? My blood ran cold. He had the audacity to talk about disrespect after abandoning me, after flaunting his infidelity in my face, after chipping away at my dignity day after day?

“And what about your disrespect, Lorenzo?” I finally snapped, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. “What about the vows you broke? The promises you shattered? You want to talk about disrespect? Look in the mirror.”

For a moment, he was speechless, his anger momentarily eclipsed by surprise. But it was a fleeting victory. The storm clouds returned to his eyes, darker and more menacing than before. He leaned in close, his voice a low hiss in my ear.

“You will regret this, Zia,” he whispered, a chilling promise laced with venom. “You will regret this very much.”

For the first time in years, I faced him face-to-face. But yet couldn't tell him about the pregnancy I'm taking for him.