Chapter Five;The Second Photograph

NADIA POV

I found it three days after the folder.

I was not looking for it. I was packing. I had decided to leave. I had decided to file for divorce. I had decided to walk away from the life I had built and the man I had married. But first, I needed clothes. I needed things. I needed to get out of this house before I lost my nerve.

I opened the closet.

I reached for a sweater on the top shelf.

My hand brushed something behind it. Something small. Something hidden. Something that did not belong.

I pulled it out.

A photograph.

I did not recognize it at first.

It was a hospital room. Pale walls. Too-bright lights. A woman in a bed. A baby in her arms. Julian standing beside her. He was smiling. He was holding her hand. He was looking at the baby like it was the most precious thing in the world.

The woman was Serena.

The baby was a little boy.

I turned the photograph over.

There was writing on the back. Julian's handwriting. Neat. Careless. Familiar.

My son. Born August 14th.

August 14th.

I knew that date.

I knew that date better than I knew my own name.

August 14th was the day I lost my baby.

August 14th was the day I sat in a hospital room and listened to the doctor tell me there was nothing they could do.

August 14th was the day my husband left for a business trip and did not come back for three weeks.

He was not on a business trip.

He was in a hospital room.

With her.

With their son.

---

I sat down on the floor.

I held the photograph in my hands. I stared at it. I stared at the little boy. I stared at his dark hair. His dark eyes. His chubby cheeks. I stared at the way Julian held him. The way Julian looked at him. The way Julian loved him.

He had never looked at me like that.

He had never loved me like that.

He had never wanted a child with me like that.

I had lost our baby, and he had been celebrating his. I had been grieving, and he had been laughing. I had been alone, and he had been with her. I had been dying inside, and he had been building a new life. A new family. A new son.

He had replaced me.

He had replaced our child.

He had replaced everything.

---

I did not cry.

I wanted to. I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw things. I wanted to break everything in this room. I wanted to burn this house to the ground.

But I did not.

I sat there on the floor and I held the photograph and I felt something inside me change. Something cold. Something hard. Something I had never felt before.

Hatred.

Pure. Burning. Hatred.

I had loved him. I had loved him more than I had ever loved anyone. I had given him everything. My time. My work. My heart. My soul. My body. My dreams.

And he had taken it all and given it to someone else.

He had taken my child. My company. My home. My life.

And he had given it to her.

---

I did not know how long I sat there.

Minutes. Hours. I did not know. The light in the room changed. The shadows moved. The house stayed silent. Julian was not home. He was never home. He was always with her.

I looked at the photograph one last time.

I looked at the baby.

I looked at the date.

August 14th.

The day my world ended.

The day his began.

I stood up.

I put the photograph in my pocket.

I walked out of the bedroom.

I walked to the front door.

I did not pack. I did not take anything. I did not need anything. I just needed to leave. I just needed to breathe. I just needed to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

I opened the door.

I walked out.

I did not look back.

---

JULIAN POV

I came home late that night.

The penthouse was quiet. Too quiet. I had grown used to the quiet. I had grown used to the emptiness. I had grown used to Nadia being there but not really being there.

I walked through the living room. She was not on the couch.

I walked through the kitchen. She was not at the table.

I walked to the bedroom. She was not in bed.

I stood in the doorway. The room was dark. The bed was made. The closet was open.

I walked to the closet. I looked inside. Her clothes were still there. Her shoes were still there. Her jewelry was still there. She had not packed. She had not taken anything.

But something was different.

Something was missing.

I did not know what. I could not tell. I just knew that something had changed. Something had shifted. Something had broken.

I walked back to the living room. I sat down on the couch. I picked up my phone. I called her.

It went to voicemail.

I called again.

It went to voicemail.

I called a third time.

It went to voicemail.

I put the phone down.

She had never ignored my calls before. Not once in five years of marriage. She had always answered. She had always been there. She had always been waiting.

Now she was not.

And I did not know why.

---

NADIA POV

I checked into a hotel downtown.

It was not a nice hotel. It was not the kind of place Julian would ever step foot in. It was anonymous. It was quiet. It was safe.

I paid in cash. I used a name that was not my own. I did not want to be found. Not yet. Not until I was ready.

The room was small. A bed. A desk. A bathroom. A window that looked out at a brick wall. It was not much. But it was mine. It was the first thing that had been mine in years.

I sat down on the bed and pressed my hand against my stomach.

I had almost forgotten. In all the pain. In all the rage. In all the hatred. I had almost forgotten that I was not alone.

The baby.

The tiny life inside me.

The baby Julian did not know about. The baby I had been so afraid to tell him about. The baby I had been so excited to tell him about.

I pressed my hand against my stomach.

"We are going to be okay," I whispered. "We are going to be okay."

I did not know if I believed it.

But I said it anyway.

I had to say it.

I had to believe something.