“To see him today, I…”

“Who even has secret crushes anymore? That’s so gross! Totally disgusting!”

“Javier looks like someone’s got a crush on you!”

“A guy like Javier? Do you think you’re worthy?”

Sybil embarrassed me on purpose and the group of young men laughed. “Javier, you are something!”

“This girl’s got a crush on you!”

“What’s the point of liking someone? She got dumped, didn’t she? Serves her right!”

My fists tightened and I shot him a cold, unwavering gaze.

Javier’s expression turned cold. “She’s just a woman. Next time, I’ll strip her bare and let you all have your fun.”

“Cut it out. Don’t talk about my wife like that; get lost.”

The men fell quiet, recognizing the dangerous edge in Javier’s tone.

Seizing the opportunity, Sybil pouted, “Javier, I want that house of hers. Can’t you just give it to me?”

The villa I lived in was in the Southside District, a property Javier had earned back when he had nothing to his name. He closed deal after deal until he finally made it his.

I was certain he wouldn’t give it to her.

But then, his soft chuckle broke the tension, his lips pressing together in a near-smirk. “Alright, alright, I’ll give it to you.”

And just like that, a quiet, fragile piece of me fractured, something I didn’t fully grasp, something I couldn’t name.

Part 2

Javier’s words cut through the air, his grip tightening on my hand with his mocking smile. “So, you’re planning to leave?”

He leaned in, his voice dripping with indifference. “Beg me and maybe I’ll let you stay. Do you know how to please me? Do it on your own; I’ll watch.”

Humiliation. Embarrassment. Both sank deep into my chest.

When we arrived home, Javier wasted no time, pulling me toward the bed with a confident stride.

He relaxed into the moment, a smirk playing at his lips, his voice laced with a teasing charm. "Are you jealous?"

“If I’d known a treasure like you was out there, I would’ve treated you like royalty from the start,” he continued, his tone softening. “You’re not going anywhere. How could I let you slip away?”

He laughed suddenly, lowering his head as his voice dropped into a mocking murmur. "I haven’t slept with her. A socialite like that, too dirty."

"Natasha, I’m not dirty."

"You’re different. You’re cleaner."

"You know there’s nothing between me and her, Natasha. You don’t realize how much I care about you."

His voice softened, each word carrying a trace of something deeper, something almost longing.

I could feel my body go rigid. Was he implying that he'd walk away if he found someone even cleaner than me?

Just as the thought crossed my mind, the sharp snap of a camera jolted me. I froze, stunned, as he sneered, “I know you’re thinking about divorce, but I don’t agree. Don’t even dream of it.”

“Forget about that man and stay with me, alright?”

I pushed against him, defiance boiling over. “And if I refuse?”

Fully dressed, Javier’s cold laughter echoed through the room. “If you’re so eager for these private photos to be splashed everywhere, go on, test me.”

I already felt drained, but now my eyes stung, dry and burning. With every ounce of strength I could muster, I slapped him. "Javier, you're shameless."

Javier only chuckled, leaning in with a soft smile. "Yes, I am shameless."

He handed me a bank card, brushing my forehead with a kiss. "You've lost weight. Go treat yourself to something nice. I, Javier, may be many things, but I’m not the type to mistreat you."

He sat back down and said, "If those men at the bar got under your skin, just say the word and I’ll have someone teach them a lesson. Cheer up."

"And as for Sybil, she’s nothing more than a child in a woman’s body. She’ll never be part of the family. Why let her bother you?"

I glanced down at the bank card in my hand, remembering it was left over from Sybil’s spending spree. Who would’ve thought this card would pass through so many hands?

Well done, Javier. I wonder how many others have received this same bank card. The irony settling heavily on me.

Every part of me ached, yet he simply turned his back. "I’ll send someone to pick up emergency contraceptives. You’re not fit to carry a child; a Collins child isn’t yours to bear."

I remembered his words from years past. "When it’s our child, you’ll be the one to bring them into the world. Those pills are too harmful; I forbid you to take them, do you understand?"

Ten years ago, he’d been all gentle and charming, his kisses like a spring breeze, warm with the honesty and passion of youth.

We had weathered the seven-year itch, only to falter at the weight of suspicion and wounds left unspoken.

By the eighth year of our marriage, Javier had begun to doubt me, questioning my fidelity.

"Natasha, tell me the truth. If you don’t, I’ll make sure this baby is gone,” he demanded coldly.

Though I was already pregnant, he called it “nothing but a stain,” saying, “Keeping it will only disgrace the Collins name.”

My first child had slipped away from me just like that.

The grief was crushing. But two weeks later, a hospital check-up twisted the knife deeper.

My hands shook as I clutched the results, unable to believe my eyes. How could this even be possible?

How could I possibly be pregnant again?