Inside her office, Elodie locked the door behind her and leaned against it. For a moment, she just stood there… then the dam burst. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks as she slid to the floor, hugging her knees. She reached down and touched her stomach gently, remembering the flutter of tiny kicks that once lived there. TWO YEARS AGO Elodie skimmed through her computer, her eyes searching through different files as her phone beeped. She picked it up from the table and the picture of her husband, Bryce Tanner getting into a hotel room with a woman by his side appeared. She scoffed, "California huh!" He had told her he was going for a business trip in California and had been away for three days. There was a lot of gossip about his numerous affairs and scandalous lifestyle on the Internet and she had suffered moments where people pointed fingers at her gossiping about her family affairs. Elodie rubbed her six months old pregnant belly as she said, "I couldn't care le
Elodie stared down at her plate like it held the secret to world peace. The grilled chicken sat untouched, her fork twirling through the mashed potatoes in slow, distracted circles. Across from her, Williams was halfway through his meal, watching her with a soft, amused smile. “Elodie,” he said gently, “you’ve been staring at that food for ten minutes. Either you’re fasting or the mashed potatoes have offended you.” She sighed but didn’t look up. “I’m just… not very hungry.” “Liar,” he said, leaning closer. “You love mashed potatoes. You used to say they felt like a hug in your mouth.” Elodie gave a small, reluctant smile. “There it is,” he said, tapping the edge of her plate. “You do remember.” She finally met his eyes, then looked away again quickly. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” “Lunch?” he asked. “It’s not like I’m proposing marriage over dessert.” “That’s not what I meant.” Williams put down his fork and leaned forward. “Elodie, can we just be ourselves?
Elodie's fingers froze midair. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Like a detective uncovering evidence, she rushed to the other bouquets—flipping through the cards one by one. “You’re still mine.” “Let’s start over. I miss you.” “My heart never stopped beating for you.” Every message was signed with the name she least wanted to see. Bryce. “Of course,” she said aloud, her voice bitter. “Roses from the devil in Dior.” Without missing a beat, Elodie grabbed the flowers, dumped them unceremoniously into a large trash bag, and tied it like it contained radioactive waste. Her heels clacked angrily down the hallway as she dragged the bag past stunned coworkers. Once outside, she yanked the lid off the nearest dumpster and tossed the whole bouquet bundle inside. “Here. Romantic trash meets literal trash.” She dusted her hands with theatrical flair. “Have a great life together.” Back inside, she scrubbed her hands like she’d just touched a disease, grumbling under her breath
Elodie stood before her mirror, staring at the reflection of a woman who looked put together but felt anything but. She dabbed on lipstick with a trembling hand, then wiped it off again. “Who am I trying to impress?” she whispered with a bitter smile. The apartment felt unusually quiet without Williams. His scent still lingered in the air. She had barely touched her food. Her stomach was a knot of guilt, longing, and that maddening flutter she got every time she thought about last night. He knew now. The truth had come out like a breath she’d held for too long. It had felt like freedom... until it didn't. Now, she was shackled by a different weight: the certainty that they could never be what they once were. “I set him free, and I intend to keep him free,” she whispered, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. “Even if it kills me.” By the time she arrived at the office, she was already mentally exhausted. She barely greeted the receptionist, breezing through the halls like
“No,” Elodie whispered, her voice shaky as she reached for Williams’s arm. “This is my fight, Williams. I have to face it on my own.” He tried to speak, but she pressed on. “It’s what I’m living for. Reclaiming what was stolen, clearing the ruins of my life. That’s how I heal.” Her voice cracked. “I’m sorry for the pain I caused you. For making you hate me. I...” “Shhh...” Williams cupped her face, his thumbs gently brushing her damp cheeks. “I’m the one who should be sorry.” His eyes searched hers. “I gave up on you, Elodie. I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve trusted your heart—even when you said those cruel things. I should’ve known it wasn’t you.” Elodie’s lips quivered. Her voice was barely audible. “It’s not your fault...” A tear slipped down her face, and Williams wiped it away with the back of his knuckle. “Elodie,” he breathed. “I love you.” She blinked. “I love you just as much as I did before,” he whispered, “if not more.” She shook her head slowly, a
Elodie sat on the edge of her bed, trembling. Tears streamed down her face again, softer this time, but just as heavy. Her voice was hoarse, fragile from all the weight it carried. “After the wedding,” she began, “I kept taking the medication like they told me to. Every morning, every night. Bitter pills that I didn't realize made me sick and weak. I was waiting to die.” She shook her head slowly, eyes lost in the past. “Bryce never noticed. He was too wrapped up in his world of women, parties, business trips that were never really business. He didn’t want the marriage either. His father forced him into it. He thought marrying me, a CEO, would keep Bryce grounded. Make him a man. But I couldn’t care less about helping him become anything.” She paused, breath catching. “I prepared a power of attorney… gave everything to my uncle. My company, my assets, even my clothes—everything would go to him if I died. I just… waited. There were nights I missed you so badly I thought I’d