Chapter 2

ANNALISE'S POV

"I want a divorce," I said firmly, despite being overwhelmed with pain.

My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest.

He shook his head, still unwilling to accept our new reality.

"You can't," he whispered, choking on his words.

"You can't leave me."

I bit the inside of my lip, forcing myself to meet his gaze.

My eyes were cold, void of the love I once felt for him.

"It’s over between us, Diego. You don’t get to decide what I do with my life anymore."

I turned and headed for the door, my footsteps heavy with finality, but before I could take another step, I felt his hand wrap around me from behind, and I froze.

That familiar scent hit my nostrils. One I knew all too well, the one that used to give me butterflies. Now, it only stirred up disgust, a bitter reminder of how much had changed.

My breath hitched, tears threatening to spill as I fought the growing ache in my chest.

He got what he wanted, so why was he still acting this way?

Why was he acting like he cared when he didn’t?

"Just hear me out, Annalise," he pleaded, burying his face against my neck.

"Diego," another voice, Katherine's, cut in—cold and sharp.

"Stop fooling yourself. You don’t need her anymore. All these years, and she couldn’t even give you a child. She’s useless to you."

And then it hit me—the reason behind his betrayal, the cruel truth I had tried to ignore. I wasn’t enough.

After over a year of marriage, I hadn’t conceived. He had always said it didn’t matter, that we were enough as we were.

But clearly, I hadn’t been enough. I hadn’t given him what he truly wanted. So, he went and found it somewhere else.

I let out a bitter laugh, my heart twisting painfully.

So that’s what it all came down to?

My worth tied to my ability to give him a child?

I gently pried his arms away from me, my body trembling with the effort to hold myself together.

"Goodbye, Diego," I whispered, my voice barely audible, but I knew he could hear me.

And with that, I walked away.

Each step felt like I was leaving a part of myself behind.

I made the right decision, so why did I still feel this way?

The next thing I knew, I was pushing open the doors of a bar not far from our house.

I wasn’t much of a drinker, but now it seemed like the best thing to do.

The lights were dim, and the chattering of patrons and music greeted me.

My head was spinning, and the words from Katherine's cruel mouth kept replaying in my mind. Useless. 

That’s what she had called me, and it hurt me so badly that Diego couldn't defend me. 

I made my way to the counter, slumping onto a stool.

The bartender, a man with dark stubble and tired eyes, glanced at me, his expression unreadable.

He looked like he had been working the entire day and couldn't wait to get off work.

"What’ll it be?" he asked quickly, not willing to waste a single minute.

"Whiskey," I muttered, barely making eye contact.

"Or anything strong," I added.

The bartender gave me a stern look before he filled a glass with alcohol and placed it in front of me.

My hands were shaking as I reached for the glass he placed in front of me.

This was my ticket to a temporary release from the pain inside me.

I downed it in one gulp, the burn in my throat momentarily distracting me from the pain in my chest.

I licked my lips, hungry for more, before I exhaled.

"I need another," I said casually to the bartender.

The bartender watched me for a moment before he proceeded, shaking his head.

What was that look on his face?

Was it disappointment or pity? I couldn’t quite place it.

"You look like shit," he remarked.

"Rough night?" he asked, his tone filled with both concern and curiosity.

"Rough night?" I scoffed, clutching the glass he just refilled.

"More like a rough year of a cursed marriage."

I took another shot and set the glass down, placing it in front of the bartender.

I glanced up at him, my vision slightly blurry.

"You ever feel like your whole world’s just crumbling beneath your feet?"

He shrugged, wiping a glass with a rag.

"Seen a lot of people come in here feeling like that. You’re not the first, won’t be the last." His voice was nonchalant, indifferent to my misery.

But then, what was I expecting?

"Great," I said sarcastically, taking another shot. 

"Just what I wanted to hear. Thanks for the pep talk, buddy."

As the alcohol coursed through my veins, everything around me started to blur.

The bartender kept serving me, but at some point, his face morphed.

His eyes, his jawline—it wasn’t him anymore. It was Diego.

I blinked hard, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

My heart pounded in my chest with the rage I had tried to suppress all evening.

"You!" I spat, slamming the glass down on the bar.

The other patrons turned their heads to me in confusion, but I didn’t care.

I was panting softly, sending dreadful stares to the bartender.

The bartender looked at me, confused.

"Ma’am, are you okay?"

I didn’t respond.

All I saw was Diego’s face.

The same face that had lied to me, the same face that had destroyed everything.

My hand shot out, grabbing his shirt in a tight fist as I gritted my teeth with rage.

"Fuck, this is why I don’t sell alcohol to women," he hissed.

He tried to pull away, but I held on, my knuckles white with tension.

"Ma’am, you’re drunk. You need to let go."

"No, you must pay for what you did to me," I groaned.

Suddenly, I felt a strong hand gently touch my arm, easing me away from the bartender.

"Hey, it’s okay. Let him go," a voice said softly.

I blinked, and my vision started clearing slightly.

I looked up and noticed the man beside me.

He was handsome, tall, with sharp features softened by a pair of kind eyes. His presence was soothing in a way I couldn’t explain.

I quickly released my grip on the bartender, stumbling back as realization hit me.

"I—I’m sorry," I mumbled, my words slurring.

"I thought he was... I’m so sorry," I added. 

The bartender gave me a curt nod, but his irritation was written all over his face.

I slumped in my stool and sniffled before I knew it, I was in tears.

"I think I’m losing my mind," I cried, using the back of my hand to wipe the tears from my face.

The man beside me handed me a handkerchief without a word.

"Thanks," I said, trying my best to force a smile.

I used the handkerchief to dab at the tears on my face.

"It’s alright," he replied.

"Pretty ladies like you aren’t meant to cry, so chin up."

Did he just call me pretty? I thought to myself.

For a moment, there was silence between us, but it wasn’t awkward.

I heaved a deep sigh, resting my elbows on the counter and staring at the man in front of me.

My gaze drifted over his tall, broad frame.

His shirt clung just right to his chest, hinting at the toned muscles underneath, and when he leaned against the bar, I noticed the way his jawline tightened in a seductive manner. 

I leaned in closer, taking in his intoxicating cologne that filled the air.

He was effortlessly handsome, and it was dangerous.

"Like what you see?" his voice broke through my thoughts.

My eyes snapped to meet his, and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"I—uh," I stammered, and his lips curved up in a playful grin as he watched me squirm.

"It’s okay to stare," he teased, leaning a little closer, his voice low and smooth.

"But you can do so much more than stare," he remarked with a wink.

I felt my heart race, the way his teasing tone stirred something inside me.

I was needed a distraction, and looking at the man in front of me, I realized I had found what I needed.

The more I stared at him, the more I wanted to close the gap.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the crushing heartbreak I needed to escape from.

That didn’t matter; I wanted him.

I stood from my seat and leaned in close, my face inches from his. 

Tilting his chin up slightly, I narrowed my eyes, a smile playing on my lips. 

"Are you single?"

"Yes, why?" he asked, his voice low.

That was all the confirmation I needed before I crashed my lips against his.

He responded instantly, as if he had been waiting for me to do this.

His hand came up to cradle my cheek, deepening the kiss, and I moaned into his mouth.

His lips were soft but firm, sending a thrill through my entire body.

When I pulled back, his eyes were darker with lust, and I got chills.

I suddenly felt shy and averted my eyes, but the man grabbed the back of my head, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"Why don’t we take this somewhere more appropriate?"