The Other Woman

Isla's POV

The door creaked open and a nurse stepped in, her expression polite, clipboard in hand.

  “Ms. Isla? Sorry to interrupt. We just need your signature on the post-operative recovery consent forms.” I wiped a hand down my skirt. “Right. Of course.” I took the pen with fingers that no longer trembled. Nathaniel stirred as I stepped past him. “Viola…” he mumbled again. I didn’t flinch. I just signed whilst thanking the nurse. Then she walked out, leaving me in my heartbreaking silence.

The moment the door swung open without so much as a knock, the brittle thread holding me together snapped. I was sitting there, barely able to breathe, clutching the fading hope that Nathaniel’s whispered words were some cruel illusion, words that cut sharper than any blade: “Viola… I only love you.”

I forced my hands to stillness, but inside, everything trembled. My body screamed at me to stand, to run, to scream, but I was trapped in a web of disbelief and dread. And then she walked in. Viola. Like a ghost summoned from my worst nightmares. It was no longer just his voice anymore. Now, she had a face, a body, an overbearing perfume,the same as the one Nathaniel gifted me yesterday and a smug little smile. How ironic. Viola.

I do not know what I imagined her to look like. Older, maybe. Harsher, even. Like guilt might have aged her. But no. She looked like a magazine cover. All elegance and confidence. Her lipstick did not smudge, even in the hospital air. Her curls were perfectly in place, like heartbreak could not touch her. She was wearing red. Of course she was. Red, the color of blood. Of warnings. Of betrayal.

Her heels clicked against the sterile floor, sharp and confident. She carried herself like a queen, draped in an expensive fiery red coat that smelled faintly of jasmine and lies. Her hair curled perfectly, framing a face that was terrifyingly composed, too perfect, too practiced, and cruelly beautiful.

She did not even glance at me. Her eyes locked on Nathaniel as though he were the only person in the room worthy of her attention. “Nate,” she breathed, a softness in her voice that I would later realize was nothing but venom masked as sweetness. “You scared me.”

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. She was here because she wanted to be.

My legs trembled as I stood, the chair scraping against the linoleum with a harsh sound that shattered the fragile silence. I forced myself to look at her, to meet the gaze that had haunted my nights. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice dripping with false sympathy. “You must be the wife.” "I am," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. Her smile curled into something sharp and cruel. “Well, you probably deserve to know.”

I fought to steady my breathing. “What?” I whispered, dread knotting in my stomach. She placed a hand lightly, deliberately, on the curve of her belly. “I’m pregnant,” she said, her voice calm but triumphant. A cold shiver swept through me, and my heart plummeted. “With twins,” she added. My world collapsed into shards I could not gather. Nathaniel’s eyes flicked between us, caught somewhere between guilt and fear, but he stayed silent.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear her apart with my bare hands. Instead, I whispered, barely audible, “No… Viola…please...” He sat up quickly, wincing in pain, his face pale and drawn. “You shouldn’t have come.” Her eyes flashed with a merciless fire. “Why not? You promised you’d tell her. You said you’d fix it.” I looked at him, searching his face for any sign of denial. “Is it true?” My voice broke. He opened his mouth, losed it and eventually said nothing.

Viola took a step closer, her smile wicked. “You’ve been clinging to him like a lifeline,” she said, her words like acid, “but the storm is over, sweetheart.” I felt my knees weaken, but I forced myself to stand taller. “You’re not the woman he wants anymore. He’s been with me. Loving me.”

The pain was too much. I did not stop to think, I just reacted. My hand flew up, and I slapped her. SMACK! The sound echoed in the sterile hospital room like a gunshot. She gasped, clutching her cheek, fury and surprise flashing across her face. “You’re crazy...” Nathaniel’s voice boomed. “Enough!” He grabbed my wrist with a force that sent a jolt of pain through my arm. But the physical pain was nothing compared to my shattered heart and trust.

I stared at him, shock and heartbreak raging in my eyes. “You’re defending her?” “She’s pregnant,” he said sharply. “You shouldn’t have hit her.” I wrenched my arm free, my voice trembling but fierce. “I’m your wife! The woman who waited for you. Raised your daughter alone. And you protect her?” I hoped that he would apologize, maybe show remorse, but I was in for a huge disappointment.

Viola smirked, rubbing her cheek like I was an annoying insect. “That’s what happens when you rot away in a kitchen for five years.” I swallowed hard against the lump rising in my throat. The door slammed open and I walked his mother, Mrs Blake, with a fierce momentum. Her eyes were cold, sharp knives piercing my heart. “I knew this would happen,” she said, voice low and cruel.

I blinked. “You… knew?” She nodded, like she was delivering a verdict. “I stayed quiet for years,” she said, “but let’s be honest, Isla. You were never enough for my son.” My chest tightened painfully. “Never enough.” Heh. How ironic. Not even once. A self deprecating chuckle escaped from my mouth but I still gave her face. I wanted to hear what else could be spewed from her uncultured mouth.

“You gave up everything. Your career, your dreams. You thought cooking dinner and raising a daughter was enough.” “I raised your granddaughter while he was gone,” I said, my voice cracking. “A granddaughter,” she spat. “Not an heir. And now this woman is giving him twins.” I finally understood my parents' worries. I really did not know Nathaniel well or his family.

Viola placed a possessive hand over her stomach, her smile smug and triumphant. I turned to Nathaniel, voice barely a whisper. “Say something.” He looked down, ashamed, silent. Then, cold and final, he said: “Maybe it’s time we stopped pretending.” The weight of those words crushed me. I sank into the chair, the room spinning.

“You’ve made your choice,” I said softly, voice breaking into shards. “You think I’m unworthy. A housewife. A woman with no career. No value.” Tears blurred my vision, but I refused to let them fall. I looked at him one last time. “I hope you never need someone who sacrifices the way I did.” Because when you do....She will not be there.

I walked out of the room without shedding a single tear but I felt numb and broken... And inside, my soul cracked and splintered into a thousand pieces. It was in shreds. I walked until the hallway blurred and my legs gave out in a stairwell that smelled like bleach and the concrete wrapped around me like a shroud. Only the cold silence of a soul shattered beyond repair.

I sat there for I do not know how long. Maybe hours. Maybe just minutes. I tried to piece together the wreckage. Where had it all gone so wrong? But the truth was painfully clear: I was never the failure. He was.

I had given him everything. My youth. My dreams. My body. My soul. And still, he broke me. There is no cure for betrayal this deep. No medicine for a wound this raw. Only time. And a slow-burning fire that will change me forever. My daughter’s future is in my hands now. I will never let her believe this was love. Because love can never be this cruel.