Chapter 3

Chapter 3

BIANCA POV

Wearing one of Matthew's jackets over her party dress, Mia laughed at something my husband had said.

"Mama!" Theo ran to me, frosting still crusted at the corners of his mouth. "Aunty Mia came home with us! She's staying over because it's her birthday and I asked if she could and Daddy said yes!"

The room tilted slightly. I looked past my son to Matthew, who had the grace to look uncomfortable.

"It's just for one night," he said quickly. "Theo wanted her to stay, and since it's her birthday—"

"Bianca, I hope it's okay." Mia's voice was soft, apologetic, perfectly pitched. "Theo was so sweet, asking if I could stay for a sleepover, and I didn't want to disappoint him on my birthday..."

I forced a smile that felt like glass cutting my face. "Of course. How could I say no to the birthday girl? Especially one who shares the same birthday as me."

Matthew and Mia both froze. Only Theo, sweet and oblivious missed the meaning in my words.

"Yay!" Theo jumped up and down. "Can Aunty Mia sleep in the guest room next to mine?"

"We'll see, baby. It's very late. You need to get ready for bed." I kept my voice light, controlled, even as fury burned through my veins.

"But Daddy said—"

"Theo, listen to your mother." Matthew's voice held a warning. "Go brush your teeth. Now."

Our son's face fell, but he obeyed, trudging up the stairs.

"I'll just go freshen up," Mia said softly, following Theo upstairs with an ease that suggested she knew exactly where the guest bathroom was.

The moment she disappeared, I turned to Matthew. "Our bedroom. Now."

I closed the bedroom door behind us with deliberate calm, my hands shaking as I faced my husband.

"What the hell was that?" I kept my voice low, aware that Mia was somewhere upstairs, probably listening.

Matthew ran his hand through his hair. "Bianca, before you overreact, let me explain. Theo asked if Mia could stay. It's her birthday. He was so excited, and she has no family, no one to celebrate with. What was I supposed to say? It's just one night. One night. She'll be gone in the morning."

"What about my birthday? I asked. Matthew froze, his hand covering his chin in helpless frustration.

I continued, forcing myself to calm down. "You dismissed my birthday, and now brought her with you like it's completely normal!"

"It is normal! She's my best friend, Bianca. She's dying. Our son adores her. What exactly is the problem here? He paused, his hands opened, like an unbelievable gesture, seeing nothing wrong with his behaviour.

"This is about boundaries, Matthew! This is about respect! This is about the fact that you keep prioritizing her over me, over our marriage, over everything!"

"I'm not prioritizing anyone! I'm trying to help someone who's dying make the most of her final months. Matthew continued, raking a hand through his hair feeling frustrated with this conversation.

“I'm trying to balance all of this while you act like every kind gesture is a betrayal. Do you hear yourself? You're jealous of a dying woman."

"I'm not jealous—"

"Yes, you are! I thought you'd be compassionate. But instead, you're making this about you. You're asking me to choose between being a decent person and making you comfortable." Matthew's voice was hard, devoid of emotions and his gaze was cruel, like he was speaking to a stranger.

“Mia is staying tonight because Theo asked. It's her birthday. She has no one else. If you can't be compassionate enough to handle one night, then that says more about you than it does about me."

The words hit like physical blows. I stared at my husband, this man I'd saved, married, given a son to, and saw clearly that he would never choose me.

Not over duty. Not over honor. Not over her.

"Get out," I whispered.

"Bianca—"

"Get out of this room. Now." I yelled.

He stared at me for a long moment, then turned and left.

I closed the door behind him, my hand shaking on the knob. Through the wood, I heard his voice, low and apologetic.

"Sorry about that. Bianca's just tired. It's been a long day."

Mia's soft response was too quiet to hear, but I could imagine it—understanding, sympathetic, perfectly calibrated to make him feel justified.

I pressed my back against the door and slid down to the floor.

Four years of marriage. . Four years of waiting for him to see me, choose me, love me.

And here I was, locked in my own bedroom while my husband comforted another woman in my hallway.

I was tired. So incredibly, bone-deep tired.

I buried my face in my knees and finally let myself acknowledge the truth I'd been avoiding for thirteen months.

This marriage was over. It had been over the moment Mia came back into our lives.

I’d just been too afraid to admit it, and too scared to drag Theo into a life as a rogue with me.

But I didn’t know how much longer I could keep holding on...