Chapter 2: It's Over

Aria’s POV

“Mark, I asked you a question,” I said, my voice rising despite my effort to keep it level.

Instead of answering, he frowned and glanced towards the door. “Lower your voice. Hailey is going to hear us.”

The irritation that surged through me was immediate. Still, a part of me hesitated. Did I really want Hailey to hear this? Did I want my daughter to hear the ugly truth, whatever it was, unfold?

“Look, it’s not what you think,” Mark continued, rubbing his hands together. “Clara is… she’s a… a working colleague. We… we went out after work. A company celebration. And we… we played a game.”

He was stammering now.

I stared at him, studying his face, his posture, the tension in his shoulders. I wondered how foolish he thought I was. Did he believe I’d only seen a message?

“I see,” I said calmly, though my blood was roaring in my ears. I held my emotions down with sheer will, especially the anger threatening to explode. “So this game includes a woman sitting between your legs? Does it also include you bending her over a table and taking her from behind?”

His eyes widened. “I did no such thing,” he denied immediately. “Where would you even get such an idea?” He scoffed lightly, as though amused. “Don’t tell me you’re imagining all that from a simple, harmless message sent by playful Clara.”

Without a word, I placed his phone back exactly where I’d taken it from. Then I reached for mine.

My fingers were steady as I opened the video and turned the screen towards him.

“Explain this, Mark.”

He barely looked before responding. “It’s AI,” he said quickly, too quickly, then smiled. “It’s fake.”

My breath stalled. I turned the phone back towards myself and watched the video again. The movements. The bodies. The angle.

Was it possible?

“Look closely,” he urged. “Don’t you see where the image blurs? That’s how you know it’s not real. The motion glitches.”

He was right. There was a brief distortion before the image sharpened again.

I didn’t know much about technology. I used my laptop for basic entries and little else. I had no expertise to lean on, only trust.

“Aria,” he said softly, stepping closer. “We’ve been married for eight years. Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?”

I didn’t need time to think. He never had.

Mark had never been flamboyant, never suspicious. He struggled financially, earning little at work. If anything, I had always been the one holding us together.

“Aria, Clara made that video as a joke,” he continued. “I don’t even know how it reached you. I’m sorry. I promise I won’t engage in those silly games again.”

He sounded sincere. Convincing.

And just like that, shame crept in.

I felt foolish, ashamed for jumping to conclusions, for doubting the man I loved.

“It’s okay,” I said quietly. “I should be the one apologising. For not trusting you. For stooping this low.”

He smiled in relief and pulled me into his arms.

“It’s fine,” he murmured, kissing my forehead. “Now… can you get rid of the video?”

I nodded, obediently, and deleted the video I had shown him. My thoughts were too busy replaying my guilt, how could I think Mark capable of something so vile?—to notice that I had forgotten to delete the second video still saved on my phone.

That night, we made love.

It had been five years since the last time we’d been intimate.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want him. Mark was rarely home. His shifts were long, unpredictable. When he returned late, I was already asleep. On the rare evenings we crossed paths, he was always too tired. Slowly, I learned not to expect intimacy.

But that night, he kissed me. Touched me. Claimed me.

It felt unfamiliar. Wrong, even, but I let it happen.

Afterwards, he rolled onto his side and went to sleep. No cuddle. No lingering touch. Moments later, he was snoring.

I lay with my back to him, staring into the darkness, my thoughts restless until sleep finally took me.

I woke up alone.

Mark had already left for work.

My phone rang as I sat up, and my heart tightened when I saw Mum’s name.

“Hello, Mum.”

“Aria,” she said sharply, “I hope you’re not planning to use that excuse of a man you call a husband as a reason not to come home for Christmas again this year.”

“Mum, please,” I sighed. “Mark is a good man. You know how hard it is to find a decent job. Food joints don’t pay much. Please don't use that to insult his dignity.”

"Sometimes I wonder where I went wrong raising you,” she snapped. “You’re blind, Aria. Completely blind. We need to talk. Come home.”

“Fine,” I said. “But if this conversation turns into an attack on my husband, I’ll walk away.”

“See you soon,” she replied, and ended the call.

“Mummy,” Hailey chimed brightly from behind me. “Are we going to see Grandma this year?”

It had been seven years since I’d last visited my family home. They’d never hidden their dislike for Mark, and it hurt him deeply. When he shared how belittled he felt, I chose him. I stayed away. Phone calls replaced visits.

Hailey had last seen my mum when she was one. Yet she remembered her vividly.

“Yes,” I said softly. “We’ll visit, and come back in time to spend Christmas with Daddy.”

Her smile was immediate.

Later that day, we set off. Hailey sat in the back while I drove.

An hour later, I pulled up in front of my childhood home, a grand mansion my late father had left us. The gates opened automatically, and I parked beneath one of the sheds.

“Aria,” Mum said warmly, pulling me into a hug. “And my little angel. Look how big you’ve grown.”

Hailey giggled as Mum lifted her.

Inside, Elliot descended the stairs with his wife, Helina.

“Hey, little sis,” he said, his arm around Helina’s waist. I couldn’t remember the last time Mark had held my hand. “What brings the fish out of water?”

“I invited her,” Mum said quickly. “Helina, take Hailey.”

Suspicion settled in my chest.

“Mum....”

“Sit, Aria,” she ordered.

Hailey left happily with Helina.

“I told you,” I said tightly. “If this turns into another lecture about my husband......”

“For once, listen,” Elliot interrupted. “When was the last time you truly spent time with him? Not an anniversary dinner. When did you last sit at a dining table together?”

I searched my memory.

Nothing.

“He’s never home,” Elliot continued. “Yet he can’t even buy toilet paper. You pay the bills. You raise Hailey. And you still defend him.”

“This ends today,” Mum said firmly. “I heard you’re planning to take a loan for a house. Absolutely not.”

“I love my husband,” I said, standing my ground. “He may not be rich like you, Elliot. Or successful like Helina. He didn’t inherit wealth like you did, Mum. But he’s working hard for a future he believes in.”

“Working, you say,” Elliot echoed quietly. "Of course, he is working. Too hard I must say. Have a look.”

He handed me a file.

Inside was Mark’s payslip.

“That’s his real salary,” Elliot said. “Food attendant.”

My stomach dropped.

“This isn’t true,” I whispered.

“Then look at this.”

Another file. Employment records.

Mark was listed as single.

No wife. No child.

Photographs followed, Mark with different women. Dates spanning eight years.

Not one. Not two. Many.

My knees weakened.

“How long?” I asked.

“Seven years ago,” Elliot said. “I caught him at the Rose Hotel with a woman after a meeting with some business clients. He begged. Promised it won't happen again. Then you disappeared. You stop visiting home.”

My vision blurred.

"I started keeping an eye on him, and gathered all this information. Aria, that man doesn't love you. He is only using you to build his empire. Once you get the house, he would end you and move in with his new woman, Clara," he said and my head snapped up hearing the name.

“Aria,” Elliot said gently. “It’s over. Come home. You and Hailey deserve better.”

And in that moment, something inside me finally broke.

My chest caved in, as though the air itself had turned against me.