The Last Hope

CHAPTER 3.

CAMILLA 

I had spent hours mentally preparing for this moment. I'd go into his office, demand an explanation, and notify him about the baby. Maybe—just maybe—he'd finally see the cause to see me. Finally, see us. 

The home looked like a cemetery now. Every empty room rang with thoughts of what could have been, drowning me in their stillness. 

I couldn't wait for him to return home, particularly since it had become nothing but icy walls and stillness. And Alex? He was no longer the person who slept next to me, but a ghost, leaving for days, inaccessible by phone, and left me clinging to a marriage that seemed like it was slipping away.

He would never get home before midnight, if at all he's coming home. Even if I called, he would not answer. He never did. That's why I had to go into his office. I needed him to hear me; he couldn't ignore me in person. This was my last chance to save our marriage, and I wasn't going to waste it. Not while I am carrying our child.

As I drove, my hands tightened around the steering wheel. My stomach twisted with fear, and a gradual fire stretched over my chest. My mind raced with images of that night, his lips brushing against mine, and his warmth as we laid in bed for the first time. It wasn't love yet, but there was something in the way he held me that suggested I may mean something to him one day. I hoped that he would eventually let me in. 

But that never happened. Even when we initially got married, the house was always silent. Since that night, we've returned to the house's regular mood. 

I pulled into the parking lot and glanced up at the huge building. His workplace. I'd never been here before, not formally. Throughout those years, I remained a secret behind our house's walls. No one recognized me. No one knew I was his wife.

I went inside, praying that the resolution I had before would not waver. 

As I reached the receptionist's desk, she smiled coldly at me. "Welcome to NIVSON. How can I help you?" She inquired, her tone too upbeat, too humble. "I'm here to see Alex Reynolds," I stated firmly, although my heart was racing. "Do you have an appointment with him?" she asked, lifting her eyes in amazement. "No," I said, raising my chin high. "I'm his wife."

She blinked, the sparkle in her grin dimming for a minute. "His wife?" She repeated the phrases as if they were strange to her. She glanced down at her computer and pressed something on the keyboard. 

The seconds dragged dreadfully. Her demeanour changed—suspicion crept in—and when she glanced up again, her nice grin stiffened. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but Alex didn't inform us of your visit."

I could feel the tension building in the air between us, her look confirming what I already knew: she didn't believe me. She imagined I was some desperate woman trying to sneak past security. She couldn't imagine Alex having a wife. 

Just as I was about to protest, the glass doors behind me flew open, and a lady entered. Her perfume hit me first, that costly, overwhelming scent I could never afford. That was her. Alessia. The woman I saw with him at the hotel, the woman he loved so much that he couldn't look at me.

I froze. Alessia's presence strangled me, like an unwelcome reminder of my greatest fear. She was everything I wasn't: elegant, poised, and confident. I felt like an invasion entering my own husband's life. 

"Welcome to NIVSON," the receptionist murmured politely, something she had denied me only seconds ago. "Alex has been expecting you."

I stood there, my heart breaking as I watched her hand Alessia a card. Alessia smiled sweetly, but it felt like a dagger in my heart. She didn't even recognize me as she approached the office from which I had been forbidden. What was I expecting? Alex run out to explain himself? That Alessia would feel terrible or ashamed about taking my husband? Of course not. The world doesn't work that way.

As I turned to leave, the weight of truth sank in. I was only an inconvenience—someone who stood in the way of Alex 's actual aspirations. I got in the car and sat there for a long time, grasping the steering wheel and fighting back tears that threatened to spill over. This was not how things were meant to go. I wasn't supposed to be that invisible.

The house looked more empty than before, as if the walls were making fun of me. The weight of emptiness crushing down on my chest was heightened by the sound of the floors cracking in the quiet. 

I dropped on the sofa and simply gazed at the ceiling, my thoughts a confused tangle of concepts that I was unable to sort out. Somewhere between his office and here was where the conflict had abandoned me. 

I dug inside my bag and pulled out my phone, placing my thumb over Alex 's name. I had to let him know. He had to hear it. Perhaps, just perhaps, if he was informed about the child, things would be different.

I took a deep breath and clicked the call button. I felt my chest tighten with each ring. He wasn't going to pick up, right? Why should he? I knew better. I knew him. I recognised how little I meant to him now, but I kept trying.

Five rings, six... I exhaled deeply, the stillness of the empty house surrounding me. I wasn't giving up. I dialled again, my fingers quivering.

Nothing. Once again. I took a long swallow to get rid of the knot that was rising in my throat. I placed another call, allowing the phone to ring, the sound almost unpleasant. 

Click. There was simply quietness on the other end for a short time. I closed my eyes and spoke fast, letting the words flood from me like a dam bursting. "Please, Alex , don't do this to me. I love you, even though I know things haven't been easy. I’ve always adored you. I'm pregnant Alex The doctor verified it two days ago. I—"

"You think that's going to change anything?" A woman's voice. Cold. Sharp. My breath seized in my throat, and I froze, clutching the phone so hard that my knuckles turned white. "Alessia…" I whispered. It was not a question. I knew it was her. Her voice was filled with delight, as if she had been waiting for this moment. "Yes, sweetheart. Alex doesn't care about you. He never did.” Her voice slithered across the phone, each syllable cutting like a sword. "Do you really think your baby will trap him? That is adorable."

My heart raced so fiercely that it ached. I struggled to find my words, but my throat was heavy, choked with astonishment and fury. She had no clue what she was saying; she couldn't. "You… You can’t just—" "Oh, I can," she interjected, her tone softening to a sardonic compassion. 

"He's left his phone here, Camilla. He doesn't even bother to take it with him while he's with me. That should be all you need to know."

A door creaked in the distance, and I heard subdued talk and footsteps. Was Alex back? Alessia's voice got hurried.

"You're nothing to him, and I'll make sure he never get to know about that baby." The phone went dead. 

I gazed at the phone in disbelief, the silence louder than anything she uttered. My fingers trembled as I withdrew it from my ear. Her words was still resonating in my brain, tempting me. Threatening me. The room suddenly seemed too tiny and suffocating. My chest squeezed, and tears welled in my eyes. I squeezed them shut, but it was unsuccessful. They flowed down my cheeks, warm and unprompted. The phone dropped from my hands, clattering on the floor.

I had thought that somehow, deep down, I might persuade him. If I merely used the appropriate words, it would remind him of all we had shared. But I was deceiving myself. He was gone. He'd been gone for a long time. 

I felt a sob swell in my throat but gulped it down. No. I couldn't fall apart. Not yet. There was one more person I could turn to. 

Alex 's Mother. Surely, Mother in-law would be anxious when she realised I was pregnant and that this was her grandchild. She may not like me as well, but she is still his mother and this is her grandson. Maybe this news will move her.

I grabbed my phone again, wiping the tears from my cheeks with the back of my fingers. My hands lingered over her contact, but I couldn't bring myself to touch it. What should I say? Could I possibly trust her to assist me after everything? 

The abrupt sound of a car outside drew my attention. My breath caught as I went to the window and stared through the curtains. Her car. Alex 's mother is here. She emerged, as if invited by my thoughts, her Sharp figure getting out of the Car with rigid elegance.

I faked a hard swallow and met her at the door. She scarcely looked at me as she hurried by, her heavy scent hanging behind her like a threat. "Hi, Mom," I replied, hoping to smile and retain a feeling of calm. 

"Don't call me that," she yelled as she pushed past me into the room. "And why are you still here? I expected you to have the decency to have left by now."

Her statements hit me like a blow. I gazed at her, stunned. She stared around, her loathing rising deeper. "You shouldn't have married my son. He does not love you; he never did. The woman he loves is back, and they will soon get married. It's time for you to sign the papers and leave his life for good."

Her words cut through me like knives. She had always despised me—from the beginning. I knew she'd never forgiven me for assuming Alessia's post after she departed. Alex was a broken person, drowning in drink, and his father forced me into his life to assist him get out of it. And I, the idiot that I was, believed that with time, I would be able to win his love.

However, his mother never accepted that. I was always simply something to get rid of for her. And now that Alessia was back, I was disposable. 

I was left astonished and devastated as she went with the same icy manner that she had come with. I had thought her to help me restore my marriage, but now I saw the truth. Not a thing could be rescued. 

Heartbroken, I went to the bedroom and glanced at the divorce papers. Tears flooded my eyes, making the lines fuzzy. It was like this. That signalled the finish.

I couldn't hold on any longer. I couldn't continue battling for a someone who had never loved me. I deserved better than this. 

I signed the papers carefully, with shaking hands, and felt a weird sensation of relief sweep over me. I was letting go. I was choosing to go away. I packed my belongings—a few shirts and nothing more. I didn't have much, which made leaving easy. With one final glance around the house, which had become more of a prison than a home, I fled. 

This wasn't what I wanted, but I couldn't continue to be treated like garbage. I had to believe that I deserved better. There was something greater out there for me. 

As I slammed the door behind me, I understood that this wasn't merely the end of my marriage. It was the beginning

of something new and unfamiliar. But, for the first time in a long time, I was able to breathe.