Clara’s POV

If someone had ever told me that one day I would be trying to know the man I married from the start, I would have called it a joke and laughed it off.

But that was the reality of it all.

Ethan Hayes, the man I had married. Not out of love, but out of gratitude… And fear.

Gratitude, because he had saved my family from a life of struggle. Fear, because his world was a world of cold smiles, blood and money that could buy anything that wasn’t affection. A world full of deceit. Where betrayal lurks at every corner.

I came from a modest family. Down to earth and never expected much as long as we had enough to eat.

My mum worked in a bakery, her hands always filled with flour. My father, a retired postman. He always believed tomorrow would be better.

We might not have had much but we had love. And that was enough.

And then there was Ethan’s world. Power and control were dishes regularly served. Dishes served cold. When I got married, everyone said I was lucky. I had captured a big fish, they said.

What they didn’t know was that my freedom was exchanged for wealth. My family needed a means to end our suffering, Ethan needed a woman to birth his heir. And so a deal was struck, sealing two fates as one.

“Clara”, he called out to me one day as he prepared for work. Flipping through his phone, checking for any new updates about the company while I poured his coffee.

His voice was cold, detached. His face was unreadable. “You forgot to sort my documents and my shirt wasn’t ironed properly”

“But we have people for that. And sorting your documents is your secretary’s duty and…”

“And you are my wife Clara. Do I need to say more?” His gaze stern as he watched me making me freeze.

“I’m sorry. I …”

“I don’t want apologies Clara. I want it done” he replied coldly, his stare sharp as icicles. My throat tightened. I couldn’t understand what else he wanted.

But arguing with him never helped. Instead it always added fuel to fire and that cold, quiet anger that made me spiral every single time.

“I’ll do better next time”, I said softly. Not daring to look him straight in the eye.

He gave me a small nod, not even glancing at me and kept on sipping his coffee slowly. The soft clink of his cup filled the silence.

Sometimes I wondered what would happen if I smashed that cup across the walls, or did anything at all in order to hear another sound that wasn’t disdainful in this house. Swallowing it all, I slowly made my way into the room. Giving him the space he needed.

Our marriage was built on appearances. A smile here, a wave there. In public we were the perfect couple, a true Cinderella story. But home, it felt like hell on earth.

I tried everything I could to make him love me. To respect me at the very least. As his partner and his equal. But all my efforts went down the drain.

I learnt his favorite meals, participated in business talks all while pretending not to notice the gap between us.

But Ethan was like winter. Beautiful and yet deadly. Fascinating at first but could lead to your demise if you stay too long.

It had taken a long time for him to warm up to me, and now, we were back to

square one.

*** ***

A few days later, I sat in my doctor’s office wondering what my fate held in store for me. Waiting for a piece of paper that could either make my day or rather still, wreck it.

Clutching my bag tightly, I felt my palms sweating. The air conditioner was on full blast, but even that couldn’t help with my racing emotions.

Maybe, just maybe. Then Ethan would smile at me again. If the tests turned out positive, I might earn a bit of respect from the Hayes family. Thinking of everything that could change, I clasped my hands together as I made a silent prayer in my heart, anxious for a miracle.

When the door finally opened, I straightened immediately. Dr. Monroe walked in, wearing his usual calm expression

A brown envelope held carefully in his arms.

“Good afternoon, Doctor Monroe,” I greeted quietly as I tried to read his face.

He nodded in acknowledgement and went to sit on his chair. Alarm bells quickly rang in my head. Doctor Monroe was the type to smile whenever there was good news. But still, I kept on having hope.

My voice, trembling as I asked with curiosity, “H-how is the test, Doctor? Am I… am I pregnant?”

My fingers dug into the edge of the desk. My stomach twisted as I watched him open the file slowly. Every second felt like an eternity. And his silence fanned the flames of my despair.

My eyes lingered on him, watching his every move. My ears were sharp as I waited to hear what the result said.

After I gave birth to Rhyan four years ago, Ethan's distance and cold eyes got worse because I couldn't get pregnant anymore.

If it wasn't for the fact that he was desperately wanting to have another child, he would have stopped making love to me.

I felt a sense of relief when I developed a headache, and a feeling of nausea. And getting pregnant was the only thing I needed to be loved by my husband.

He adjusted his glass slowly before he spoke in a low voice. “Mrs. Clara,” he began quietly, his eyes lowering. “I’m deeply sorry to tell you that your test was negative.”

The world seemed to stop. For a moment, I just stared at him. I heard the words, but they held no meaning. The world went still as my heartbeat roared in my ears.

And all of a sudden, everything rushed in. His words, despair, the memories. My heart sank in my stomach as I wished that the ground would open up and swallow me whole.

I stood up abruptly, my chair scraping against the marble floor. “No, that’s not possible,” I whispered. “Maybe…maybe you mixed it up. Yeah, a mixup. That’s probably it” I said to myself. Clinging to every last hopeful thought I could come up with.

Dr. Monroe sighed. “Our tests are always accurate, Mrs. Hayes.”

Tears rapidly fell from my eyes as I felt myself losing control.

“You don’t understand,” I said, shaking my head. “This was supposed to be it. I’ve been feeling dizzy, nauseous…”

“Stress can cause those symptoms too,” he interrupted gently.

I bit my lip hard to stop it from trembling, but the tears refused to stop. They slid down my cheeks slowly, silently, like they’d been waiting for this moment.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

He reached out, placing a hand on mine. “Clara… I know how much this means to you. But sometimes the body just needs time. There are options…treatments.”

I flinched as I pulled my hand away. “Time?” I said, my voice breaking. “Four years, Doctor. It’s been four years since Rhyan was born. Have I not been patient enough?.”

I asked loudly. My voice cracking. They don’t understand. This was supposed to be it. The moment that would turn everything around.

Dr. Monroe’s eyes softened, but he stayed quiet. He’d been our family doctor since.

He’d seen me through every heartbreak, every failed test, and every forced smile I gave in front of Mrs. Hayes.

“Ethan’s mother wouldn't allow me to go anywhere else for tests,” I said quietly, mostly to myself. “She insists I only come here for a test. And I never understood why.”

How could I go back to that house and tell Ethan that I tested negative.

I wiped my tears quickly.

“Mrs Hayes will be happy now,” I muttered to myself. “Another reason to sing to me about how useless I am.”

Clara’ POV

I left Dr. Monroe’s office. Tears striking down my cheeks, my vision blurry.

I couldn't explain it but the knot in my chest was something too hard for me to handle.

The air outside was heavy. It's weight pressing down against my skin as if mocking the emptiness inside me.

The doctor's words kept echoing in my head…“I’m sorry, Clara. You’re not pregnant.”

And then the cycle started all over again.

That pregnancy was my last straw. My last hope in saving my marriage.

A hope I had carried like a fragile flower in my heart. Dreaming, longing for the day I’d hold a tiny life in my arms.

Thinking that Ethan’s mother would smile at me. That Ethan himself would cherish me like before.

Now that dream was gone, crushed before it even had the chance to bloom.

As the driver stopped in front of our home, I wiped my tears with the back of my hand as I steadied myself. My heart a bleeding mess. My emotions spiraling.

My hands shook as I closed the door and glanced at the house I and my family lived in.

A house that was once a prison yard for me. Same house I had fought for my marriage and succeeded. My husband gazed at me with affection. My son looked at me and smiled. Now it was worse than before.

And I didn't know how to solve it.

I walked towards the door only to find it open.

That was strange. Truly strange. Ethan had never been the type to leave the door unlocked when he left.

We both took safety precautions seriously. And this was the one thing that we both never neglected.

I paused for some seconds before stepping inside, my heels clicking softly against the tiled floor.

“Ethan?” I called, but my voice came out small, broken and weak.

No one answered.

The silence pressed on me, thick and suffocating. I could only hear the faint hum of the air conditioner. The ticking of the wall clock and nothing else.

I walked towards the hallway. My eyes scanning through the every room in the house.

Everything was in order. The throw pillows, the framed wedding picture of Ethan and me smiling like fools in love.

Nothing seemed out of place. But why did it make me feel tense. Fear. Anxiety all at once.

Moving towards our bedroom. I finally knew what was wrong.

I heard it. I doubted what I heard but I wasn't a fool. His grunts of pleasure. Her moans. The smacking of skin against another.

A mix of pleasure and something raw. I wasn't new to that sound. That was the sound I heard when Ethan claimed like the stranger I doubted. Like the new man who had graced my marriage after that same accident.

I didn't want to believe it. But then I heard his name on her lips.

“Ughhhh…. Just like that… Deeper Ethan… Faster”

My heart dropped.

Then another sound followed. A man’s voice. Deep and Familiar. Groans of a man and a woman reaching their orgasms.

“Argh, fuck me harder, Ethan.”

My blood turned cold.

No. That couldn’t be what I am thinking, I must be dreaming.

But the sounds kept coming…moans, gasps, the wet rhythm of skin slapping against skin.

My stomach twisted as my knees wobbled making me lose my balance had I not held onto the wall. The world around me seemed to stop as I pressed my trembling hand against the wall to steady myself.

“You like it, don't you? Me drilling this pussy and leaving my seed inside you. Such a slut. My slut” I heard Ethan say as his thrusts increased.

“Oh yes, baby. Just like that… Fuck me like that… Go harder!” the woman moaned back. Her whimpers filling the air.

Each sound stabbed into me like a knife. My mind screamed for me to walk away. To run far away. So far that I wouldn’t hear it…

But my body betrayed me. I moved slowly, step by step toward the door. My pulse pounding in my ears.

And then the stench hit me. Sweat, sex and cum scents filled the air.

With a shaking breath, I pushed the door open.

And what I saw made me wish I hadn't come back home at all.

Ethan. With another woman. My husband, was on top of another woman.

His back flexed with every thrust, his hands gripping her thighs. Her legs were hooked over his shoulders, her nails clawing into his skin.

They didn’t notice me at first; lost in the throws of lust and passion.

While I breathed in their betrayal.

Then Ethan turned slightly, and his eyes met mine.

He froze.

I couldn’t breathe. It all felt like a dream.

And then I saw her face.

Juliet. His Aunt, his mother's sister that babysitted him when he was a kid.

The woman I had welcomed into our home so many times. The woman who smiled politely at me was fucking with my husband.

Beneath him. Hickeys marred against her fair skin as if it were a treasure map.

I felt my breath cut short. My throat tightened until it hurt to breathe.

My mind screamed that this was a nightmare, that any moment I’d wake up…but I didn’t. It was real.

My husband's dick, buried in his aunt's pussy. My husband… His dick… Another woman… Our bed.

Ethan jerked back, pulling out from her, screaming as he was about to come, Julie immediately shouted.

Fuck!

“What the hell are doing here you bitch! Are you insane?”

I couldn't find my voice for a second, but there was no shame in Juliet's eyes.

She sluggishly reached for the bedsheet, wrapping it around herself as she stood.

Her lipstick was smeared, her hair wild, her skin flushed. She didn’t even flinch under my gaze.

“Ethan tell me this isn't true. Please” I begged. I would do anything, give up anything inorder to erase what I just saw.

But his silence made the cut of the betrayal run deep.

“What the hell is going on here, Ethan?” I screamed. Near to the brink of losing my sanity.

My voice cracked. Anger and pain the only emotions I was now capable of feeling.

“You and your Aunt. In out home. In our matrimonial bed”

I then turned to Juliet, trembling.

“And you… How could you do this? He’s your nephew for goodness sake. I trusted you. How could you do this?”

“Answer me, how long?”

Juliet rolled her eyes, struggling with her oddings as she tried to put it on as if nothing happened.

“Enough,” she snapped. “You just ruined our moment. Do you even know what you just did? We were right there…at the sweetest part, and now he’s not even in the mood anymore.”

My mouth fell open in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable,” I whispered.

“Listen to me, Clara,” Ethan cut in sharply, his voice cold, his eyes full of something I couldn’t recognize.

“I do not owe you a single explanation in my house. So don't think for a second you can waltz in here anytime you like and question me. And if I hear about this outside, I swear I’ll deal with you.”

I stared at him, whatever left of my heart shattered more. This wasn't my Ethan. This wasn't the Ethan that promised me that no matter which turn we take in the future, he would always be loyal. The stern look of disgust and anger marred on his face was all I needed to know.

This was the Ethan that survived that accident. The new man who had graced my marriage after he woke up from a coma. The Ethan who didn't give a shit.

Juliet bent to pick up her heels, slipped them on, and adjusted her blouse. She gave me a smug look as she brushed past, her shoulder knocking against mine.

The scent of her perfume filled my nose, and I nearly gagged.

Ethan followed her out, buttoning his trousers in a hurry. The door slammed behind them, leaving only silence.

I felt whatever willpower left in me evaporate as I slumped on the floor.

The pain in my chest made me feel like it would snap into two. I glanced at the sheets that were still tangled. The air still heavy with their scent. Every corner of the room felt tainted.

The tears I had been holding in broke out. The memories crashed into my head all at once. My marriage, our fights, the day I gave birth to Ryan, the day Ethan finally opened up to me. The accident, the new Ethan, the harsh one. The one who just cheated on me.

My husband had cheated on me. And worse, he acted like it was normal.

And it made me wonder, when will I ever be enough for them?

Ethan's POV

Nathan and I were born just a few minutes apart, just like every other twin out there.

But our mum always said I cried first and came out first.

She would tell the same story like it meant something. Like a proof that I was the one meant to stay.

Maybe that’s why I remained with them, while Nathan was sent away to stay with aunt in Manchester.

We were just kids then, barely old enough to understand what being separated meant.

But the memory burned every time I thought of it.

I could still remember the day he left. The way his tiny hands slipped from mine, and how he looked back through the car window as it drove away.

He left on the day of our tenth birthday. And I had never seen him again since then.

Our parents always claimed that it was for our own good, that people didn’t need to know much about two sons.

“It would complicate inheritance,” They always said. So to get rid of their ‘problem’, they arranged the proposal that Nathan would inherit all companies dad had in Manchester while I got the ones here.

And just like that, I and my brother became strangers living parallel lives.

When Dad died, the truth was buried with him. Nathan’s name was never mentioned again. His existence felt like it was erased from our walls, our documents, our stories.

And sometimes I wondered if things would have been different if our parents hadn't separated us. Would both of us be best friends like every other twin out there? Or would we still have landed in the same spot.

And oh my sweet Clara.

She never knew about him. How could she?

How could I tell her about a brother who was practically invisible… Someone even I hadn’t seen in over two decades?

She would’ve asked questions I wasn’t ready to answer. So, I told her my family was small and I was the only son, the company was all I had left.

She brought light into that cold house. For a while, her laughter softened the edges of my loneliness.

I thought I had buried the shadows of my past for good. But when Nathan came back after my accident. Same face. Same steps. Like glancing at a mirror.

The only difference was his gaze. Cold, distant, malicious.

He came back not as my brother, but as my reflection, claiming my name, my life, my world.

But before that. Before everything fell apart…here was Clara.

And there was the truth I hid from her. The truth that could wreck our future. That could lead to her leaving me alone in this bleak world.

She was my achilles heel. My very own ray of sunshine.

After Ryan was born, Dr. Monroe told me the news that changed everything.

I was sitting in that cold office, the smell of antiseptic thick in the air. She spoke in that calm, professional voice most doctors use when they’re about to break your soul.

“Ethan,” she said softly, “You won't have a child again. You're infertile.”

I blinked at her, trying to make sense of what she had said. “Infertile? That’s… impossible.”

“I’m afraid it’s not,” she replied gently. “The tests confirm it. You won’t be able to have children again.”

The words hit me like a slap on my cheek. I walked out of that office feeling less of a man, feeling empty.

For years, Clara and I tried. Month after month, she’d cry in the bathroom, clutching another negative test. And I as stupid as I was. I made her believe it was her fault.

I blamed her. I pushed her away. And my mother, cruel as she was, joined me.

“She can’t even give you another child,” she’d complained.

“A good for nothing. Spineless. A gold digger who used you and your influence to save her parents from the tight clutches of poverty”

I should have told her the truth. Hell, I could have defended Clara in front of my family. But instead, I let my pride rot me from the inside.

Until the morning that changed everything.

It started like any other day. Clara making breakfast, Ryan still asleep. I was already late for a meeting and angry for no real reason. When the coffee spilled on my suit, it was like fire to a fuse.

“Are you stupid, Clara?” I yelled, slamming the cup down. “Can’t you do one thing right?”

“I’m sorry, Ethan,” she stammered, her voice shaking. “It was an accident…”

“An accident?” I grabbed her by the arm. “You’re always making mistakes! Always ruining things and giving unnecessary excuses!”

“Please…” The look of hurt written all over her face.

But I didn’t listen. Before she could say a word, I slapped her on her cheek. The sound of the slap echoed through the dinning, followed by her muffled sob.

For a second, everything went still. The look in her eyes broke me, but I turned away. I told myself she deserved it. I told myself I deserved to be angry.

I left the house with my heart pounding, my mind spinning. Guilt mixed with rage as I got into my car. I pressed harder on the accelerator, trying to outrun my thoughts, the guilt, the shame.

But you can’t outrun your shadow. No matter how fast you think you are.

My hands grabbed the steering wheel tightly, anger, guilt and an unending wave of fury clouding my emotions.

The last thing I remember was a horn blaring, a flash of headlights and then nothing.

When I woke up, I found myself in the hospital bed. My head throbbed like it was splitting open.

“Ethan?” a voice whispered. It was my mother. Her face hovered above mine, pale and drawn. I could see a sign of relief on herself.

“What… happened?” My voice sounded strange. “Where am I?” I asked.

“You had an accident,” she said, brushing a hand over my hair. “You’ve been in a coma for three weeks.”

Three weeks.

It felt impossible. I tried to remember, but my thoughts were like shattered glass. Every time I reached for one, it cut through me.

Then came the doctor, with clipboard in his hand.

He kept on rambling my diagnosis to my mum. I wasn't in the mood to pay any attention to whatever they were saying. The only thing I could do was keep on looking around for her.

Did she know?

What did they tell her?

Does she hate me?

My Clara.

The only thing I could pick up from the doctor was the fact that I had a short term memory loss as a result of the accident. But it would wear off after a few days.

But after some months, when I finally began to recall things together again, my mother suggested that Clara shouldn't know about it.

“She mustn’t know you’ve recovered, Ethan,” she said one evening in the hospital, her tone firm. “Not yet.”

“Why not?” I asked, weakly sitting up. “She’s my wife.” I needed her here. I wanted to see her. To hold her. To apologize.

“We have to do something about your infertility. And this is the right time”.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

That was the moment every shadow of my past resurfaced.

The moment my twin brother, Nathan stepped back into my life.