Chapter 2

Nadia’s POV

Simone had left them. Simone had walked out six years ago and never once looked back. 

And still, when Lucas fell, when Isabella was scared, the school called her. Damian called her. And I was told not to trouble myself.

I walked away from Margaret without speaking. I walked into my bedroom and I closed the door and locked it. I set the towels down on the dresser. Then I sat on the edge of the bed and I put my face in my hands.

I had given these children six years of my  life. And I was not their mother. I had never been their mother. 

I was just the woman who lived in their house,  made their food,  folded their laundry while smiling so they would not have to feel guilty about forgetting my birthday. Again. For the fourth year in a row.

The tears fell like they had nowhere else to go. 

My face felt raw, the skin tender from all the wiping, but I couldn’t stop crying.

My eyes were swollen, red-rimmed, and my vision was clouded by the saltwater that kept spilling from my eyes. 

The ache in my heart was unbearable. 

It felt as though someone had torn it out of my chest, leaving me hollow, empty and worthless. I couldn’t escape from the thought that it would never get better. That I would always be the invisible, always be the forgotten wife, and invisible stepmother. I didn’t matter to anyone.

I glanced over at the half-empty glass of wine sitting on the table beside me. The dark red liquid inside wasn’t the solution, I knew that. 

But tonight, as every night lately, it was the only thing that seemed to quiet the noise inside my head. The only way I could dull the pain that gnawed at me like a hunger that would never be satisfied.

I wasn’t an alcoholic. But these days, when everyone was out, when the house was empty, I found solace in the glass, and in the silence that came with it. Tonight, it was no different.

I poured myself another.

The burn as it slid down my throat was a small comfort, and I leaned back into the couch, staring at the phone in my hand, my fingers shaking more than the wine glass ever had.

I reached for my phone with trembling hands. 

It felt so heavy in my palm, the weight of it reminding me of all the lost time, all the people I had lost touch with, all the things I couldn’t change. I hovered over the contacts list, scrolling with no real direction. But when I saw his name, my heart skipped a beat.

It had been years. Years of silence, of no messages, no calls, just the emptiness that filled the gaps where my family used to be. I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the green dial button. 

I didn’t even know why I was calling him. He probably didn’t even care anymore. He had his own life, his own family. He probably forgot all about me by now. But still, I couldn’t help myself. 

I hesitated, with my thumb hovering over the green dial button. My heart was beating so loudly in my chest that it drowned out everything else. But then, I closed my eyes, took a shaky breath, and hit the button.

The phone rang, each tone a drumbeat in my chest. Once, twice and then it clicked.

“Nadia?” His voice sounded so familiar, yet so distant as it came through the speaker. It felt like a thousand needles all at once, piercing through my chest.

“Eli,” I breathed, his name slipping from my lips like a prayer.

There was a brief pause on the other end. “It’s been a long time,” he said, his tone careful, as if he wasn’t sure how to approach me.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to feel. I had waited for this moment for so long, and now that it had come, I wasn’t sure I was ready.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “A long time.”

“You sound… different,” he said, his voice softening. “What’s going on, Nadia?”

A tear slipped down my cheek. 

“Come back home,” he said, his voice suddenly urgent. “It’s been years. Come home, Nadia.”

I froze. 

His words hit me, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. 

The idea of going back—of leaving this place seemed impossible. But then, the thought of being somewhere I was wanted, somewhere I was cared for,  was too tempting.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave. Not yet.

“I’m fine here,” I lied, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. “What are you talking about? I’m happy where I am. The kids,  they need me. My family needs me.”

Eli didn’t say anything for a moment. I could hear him on the other end of the line, his breath steady, but I knew what he was thinking. He knew I was lying.

“You’ve been crying, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice suddenly gentle. “I can hear it in your voice, Nadia. You can’t keep pretending as though everything is fine when it’s not. You don’t deserve whatever you’re going through.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my face into the pillow as the tears flowed freely again. 

“Come back home. It’s not too late.” He said, softly. 

I didn’t answer right away. I wanted to. 

I used to be close with my brothers—Kane, Seth, and Eli. 

But over the years, they grew distant, and angry with me for things I couldn’t fix. They never understood why I married Damien. 

He was divorced, already had kids with another woman, and they couldn’t accept that I would choose him over them. They were against it from the start, but I cut them off, believing I knew what was best. Eli was the only one who still cared enough to try, even if he, too, was upset with me.

I wanted to say yes, to let him pull me out of this suffocating world I had built around myself. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “I just needed to hear from you. I just needed to know someone remembered.”

He paused, and then I heard him sigh. “Happy birthday,”

I couldn’t remember the last time someone wished me a happy birthday. No one had acknowledged it in years. Not Damien. Not the kids.

I bit my lip, trying to hold back the sobs that were threatening to tear through me. He remembered.  “Thank you,” I whispered. 

When I ended the call, the silence in the room suddenly  felt louder than ever.

As I sat there, the tears came again. I wiped my face, trying to regain some semblance of control. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this. I didn’t want them to know how broken I really was.

But just as I was about to get up, I heard the sound of footsteps. My heart sank. It was Damien, returning home. The kids were with him, laughing as they walked into the room.

Isabella was the first to speak. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, her tone sharp. “Why do you look like that?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Lucas, ever the indifferent one, glanced at me, then shrugged. “Stop pretending, Mom. It’s not like we care.”

Damien didn’t say a word. He glanced at me with that cold and indifferent look I had grown so used to. “Fix whatsoever is wrong with you,” he muttered, not even bothering to look at me directly. “It’s not safe for the kids.”

The words hit me like a slap, but I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t.

I didn’t know how to respond. Instead, I turned away, walking to the guest room, the room I had claimed as my own long ago. 

I cried myself to sleep that night,  the tears soaking the pillow beneath me. It was all I could do.

A few hours later, I woke up to the sound of Damien  entering the room. I hadn’t even realized I had been sleeping so soundly. When I opened my eyes, I saw him standing there, and holding a small box.

“It’s your birthday,” he said flatly, as though it were just another obligation. “Here.”

I reached for the box, feeling my heart drop as I opened it. 

Inside was the same piece of jewelry he had been giving  me for the past three years. A necklace. Beautiful, yes, but it didn’t matter anymore.

A sob got caught in my throat, but I swallowed it down as I looked at him, my lips trembling. “Why?” I whispered, the word barely escaping.

Damien didn’t answer, he turned and began walking away. He didn’t even look back.

And in that moment, I finally said the words I had been holding in for so long.

“I want a divorce,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.