I took a quick look at the wall clock, 9:17PM
Where is he? I had eaten dinner already, alone as usual, at this point it was becoming normal to not have him at the dinning table. Taking a glance at his food,well served and untouched, looking back at me, the food already grew cold. I murmured with annoyance, tapping my fingers on the table trying to calm my nerves The routine of late coming from work was becoming awfully frequent these past few weeks, but he always had something to dish out as excuse, be it having to cover for a colleague or having extra meeting or traffic, Micheal never disappointed in having a comeback to when I questioned his tardiness coming back from work, but it had gotten to his stage where I doubt I was going to buy those bullcrap anymore. Picking up my phone, I dialed his number, no answer, tried it a couple more times and still no answer, rather I got sent to the voicemail, my annoyance became frustration. Two years into this marriage and the bond between me and my husband kept on fading rather than getting stronger, it was scary. We were never the lovey dovey type, but at the very least we talked, had fun and laughed sometimes, but now? We barely spoke unless it as necessary, this wasn't my definition of marriage and I definitely didn't like the direction we were headed. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe because I hadn’t given him a child yet. My throat tightened as the memories from the last family meeting lingered in, Two years with no baby nor pregnancy, the words of his mother echoed in my mind, my belly became unsettled at the sudden thought of this. "A wife’s duty is to give her husband an heir." A soul-crushing statement that had haunted me ever since. I shook it off and scrolled through my contacts, tapping on Evelyn’s name. My best friend. Also, Michael’s assistant. If anyone knew where he was, it would be her. She picked up immediately. “Adaline?” “Hey,” I said, keeping my voice light. “Is Michael still at the office?” A pause. Then, “Um… no. He left a while ago.” My grip tightened around the phone. “Oh.” “Why?” Evelyn’s voice was careful. I forced a small laugh. “No reason. Just checking.” Silence stretched between us before she spoke again, softer this time. “Come meet me at the bar. You need a drink.” I hesitated. Going out wasn’t exactly appealing, but sitting here alone, waiting for a husband who clearly had better things to do, wasn’t either. “Alright,” I said. “I’ll be there soon.” Before heading to the bar, I decided to stop by Michael’s office. Maybe Evelyn was mistaken. Maybe he really was working late and just hadn’t seen my calls. But when I arrived, the receptionist barely looked up before saying, “Mr. Pratama isn’t in.” So Evelyn was telling the truth. I clenched my jaw, murmuring a polite “Thank you,” and left. As I stepped outside into the cold night air, a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. Where was he? I drove through the city, gripping the steering wheel. The road lights flickered past my window, a blur that I never paid attention to. I should have been home, curled up in bed, waiting for Michael to walk through the door like I always did. But tonight, I couldn’t stand waiting. Evelyn’s invitation had been unexpected, but maybe it was exactly what I needed. A distraction. A change of scenery. Anything to silence the thoughts screaming in my head. Still, I wasn’t looking forward to it. I hated parties. The loud music. The suffocating mix of sweat and alcohol. The way people lost themselves so easily in the noise. It never made sense to me. Evelyn always teased me about it, said I needed to loosen up. But I wasn’t uptight. I just didn’t see the appeal. Even in college, when everyone else went clubbing, I preferred quiet nights with a book. Or simple dinners with Michael. Back then, he’d smile at me across the table, reach for my hand, and say, "I love that you’re not like other girls." Now, that same man barely looked at me. My stomach twisted. I pressed my foot harder on the gas. I just wanted this night to be over. When I reached the bar, the parking lot was packed. Cars lined up haphazardly, people stumbling toward the entrance, laughter spilling into the night. I sighed. This wasn’t just a regular night at the bar. This was a party. A big one. And I hated it. I sat in my car for a moment, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Every instinct told me to turn around, call Evelyn, and make up an excuse. Maybe I should just go home. Maybe, for once, Michael would be there. But another part of me—the part that was tired of waiting, tired of feeling like I was second place in my own marriage—made me open the car door. The moment I stepped out, the heavy bass from inside vibrated through the ground. I didn’t belong here. That was my first thought as I walked toward the entrance. Inside, it was worse than I expected. The air reeked of alcohol and sweat. Bodies pressed together on the dance floor, moving in ways that blurred the line between dancing and something much more intimate. Dim lighting. Flashing neon signs. A sea of strangers drowning in liquor and bad decisions. What am I doing here? I wasn’t dressed for this. While the other women wore tight dresses and heels, I was in jeans and a blouse. No makeup, just a swipe of lip balm. I looked lost. Out of place. I pushed through the crowd, already regretting my decision. My phone buzzed in my hand. My heart jumped. Maybe it was Michael. No new messages. Of course not. Jaw clenched, I shoved my phone into my pocket—just as a drunken man stumbled into my path. “Hey, pretty lady,” he slurred, whiskey on his breath. He grinned, eyes hazy. “Be my girlfriend for the night?” I barely resisted the urge to recoil. “No, thanks.” I stepped aside. He swayed, still smiling. “Come on, don’t be shy. You’re too beautiful to be alone.” I sighed. I really don’t have time for this. “I’m married,” I said, flashing my wedding ring. His grin widened. “Married women are the best kind.” Disgust crawled up my spine. I pushed past him, patience running thin. Where are you? I texted Evelyn. Her reply was instant. Upstairs. Room 899. I frowned. Upstairs? I knew what kind of rooms were up there. Private suites. The kind meant for privacy. A strange feeling twisted in my gut. But I told myself I was overreacting. Maybe she just needed a quiet space. Maybe I needed to stop overthinking. Taking a deep breath, I climbed the stairs. Room 899. The door was slightly ajar. I reached for the handle. Hesitated. Then, gently, I pushed it open. And that’s when I heard it. "Baby, go faster. Cum for me." Michael’s voice. I froze. And then I saw them. Michael. My husband. Evelyn. My best friend. Tangled in the sheets. Michael’s hands on her. His lips against her skin. A sharp, cold pain exploded in my chest. For weeks, I had wondered. Now, I knew. I had been replaced. And it had been happening right under my nose.Tears burned my eyes as I stumbled back, gripping the door handle with trembling fingers. My throat tightened, suffocating the sob that fought to escape.I slammed the door shut, hard enough to rattle the frame. For a fleeting second, I wished the whole damn building would collapse on them.Then, I ran.The bar’s pounding music and the stench of alcohol and sweat surrounded me, but I barely noticed. My heart pounded as I shoved past people, their laughter and cheers a cruel contrast to the agony twisting inside me.I needed air.I needed to breathe.I needed to get the hell out of here.By the time I reached the parking lot, my face was wet with tears. I wiped at them furiously, but they wouldn’t stop. My vision blurred, and I nearly missed my car. But before I could reach it—Someone stepped in front of me.The stranger from earlier.Leaning against my car, a cigarette dangling lazily from his fingers, he smirked. His messy hair and unshaven face made him look even more intoxicated t
I was barely done packing my things and locking my suitcase when my room door slammed opened violently that I felt the walls shakeBefore grasping the moment to react, I got yanked on my hair so hard I was sent stumbling backwards. The feeling of pain surged across my scalp as I gulped, instinctively reaching out to claw at the grip holding me down only to be met with a gaze that couldn't be mistaken. Michael.His face was twisted with rage, his breath ragged as he shoved his phone inches from my face."What the hell is this, Adaline?" he sparked, his fingers still tangled in my hair, pulling just enough to make my scalp burnp. Through my tears, I barely registered the image on the screen.That picture.The one Evelyn had sent. A manipulated lie, To the bare eyes it looked like me and the stranger from outside the bar were about to have an intimate embrace, but it was all a lie, edited an altered from the fact I was fighting to get away. "You think you can make a fool of me?" Michae
After some miles covered, the cab pulled a stop in front of my mother's house. I stared at the rundown building, faded paint, an old flickering light at he porch, the suffocating presence that's always haunted me, stomach twisting aura. I hadn't been here in months and in all honesty wished it hadn't came down to this. "Miss, are you sure this is the place?" the driver asked, eyeing my hospital gown and bare feet, he probably didn't believe I knew anyone in this residence, but it's not too far from common reasoning looking at how bad I looked at the moment. I didn’t answer. Just reached for the door handle, my hands still trembling, the moment I stepped out, my legs nearly gave out, the sharp pain from my belly grew and stung badly. The driver cursed, rushing to help, but before he got to where I was barely standing, I lifted a hand. “I got it.”Every step toward the house felt like walking on burning coal, the twisted feeling in my stomach grew the closer I was to the door, I wish
“Third Person's POV”The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the sterile hospital room, accompanied by the faint scent of antiseptic. Adaline lay motionless on the hospital bed, her pale face contrasting against the stark white sheets. An IV drip was attached to her arm, feeding her body the fluids it desperately needed.Justin stood near the window, arms crossed, his eyes sharply fixated on the city lights beyond. He had found her just in time, barely managing to pull her away from the edge of the bridge before she did something irreversible. It had been years since he last saw her, but he recognized her instantly. The moment she collapsed in his arms, he had acted on instinct, rushing her to the hospital without a second thought.A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. The doctor stepped in, checking Adaline’s vitals. “She’s stable now,” the doctor informed him. “Physically, she’s fine, but she’s severely exhausted and emotionally distressed. She’ll need rest and su
Michael adjusted the cuffs of his suit as he stood before the worn-down door of Melanie Watson’s house. The place had always disgusted him—the lingering stench of cheap liquor, the peeling paint, the creaky wooden steps that threatened to collapse under the weight of disappointment. It was a house that reflected its owner perfectly—bitter, broken, and desperate for control.He knocked sharply, irritation flickering in his sharp blue eyes as he waited. When the door finally swung open, Melanie’s cold gaze swept over him, but this time, there was something else in her expression—worry."Michael," she drawled, forcing a smile. "I didn’t expect you here.""I don’t have time for pleasantries," Michael snapped, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. The house was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and forgotten dreams. He pulled two envelopes from his coat, placing them on the wooden table with a controlled slam.Melanie’s smile faltered as she reached f
Justin stood in the doorway, one shoulder pressed against the frame, his expression deliberately unreadable though his knuckles whitened against the coffee mug he gripped. He had just overheard her phone call with her mother, the hushed, tense conversation that had ended with Adaline's abrupt goodbye."So, Michael wants you back?" he asked, his voice calm yet probing, the question hanging in the air between them like a fragile thing.Adaline stiffened, her spine straightening almost imperceptibly before she let out a deep breath that seemed to deflate something within her. "He doesn't want me back, Justin," she said, meeting his gaze directly. "He just doesn't want to lose control over me. There's a difference." Her voice carried the weight of history in those final words."Why won't you take Michael back?" he pressed, his voice measured but curious, eyes never leaving her face. "He clearly wants you. You could go back to your home, your life—"Adaline let out a dry laugh that held no
Adaline checked her watch for the third time that morning—8:15 AM. She had sent Michael a terse text the night before: "Courtroom 3B. 9:00 AM tomorrow. Be there." No pleasantries, no explanations needed.Justin had arranged for his driver to take her, as promised. Martin, a tall man with kind eyes and a quiet demeanor, had arrived precisely at 7:30, giving her ample time to prepare herself mentally for what lay ahead."We're early, Ms. Adaline," Martin said as they pulled into the courthouse parking lot, the imposing stone building looming before them. "Would you like to wait in the car a bit longer?"Adaline shook her head, clutching her leather portfolio containing the divorce papers. "No, thank you. I'd rather be inside." The sooner this was over, the sooner she could begin rebuilding her life from the ruins Michael had left it in."Very well," Martin replied, opening her door. "Would you like me to accompany you inside?""That won't be necessary," Adaline said, smoothing down her
Her mother sniffed. "Marriage isn't about romance, Adaline. It's about building something lasting. Michael made a mistake, but he's still a good provider. You always were too sentimental.""Your Honor," Adaline spoke clearly, rising from her seat, "this marriage has been loveless from the start. An arrangement my mother made to secure her financial future." She turned toward Michael. "He's abused me emotionally for years. When I couldn't conceive, he blamed me entirely, despite never getting tested himself. When his business failed two years ago, he took it out on me. When Evelyn pregnant, they made sure I knew about it."She laid a medical report on the judge's desk. "I've been seeing a therapist for the past year due to the emotional trauma this marriage has caused. I'm asking the court for a divorce on grounds of mental cruelty and adultery."The judge, a woman in her sixties with shrewd eyes, reviewed the documents before her. "Mr. Anderson, if an heir is your primary concern, it
Adaline moved through the kitchen with practiced efficiency, checking each station as the clock ticked closer to service time. Everything had to be perfect for Justin's sister's homecoming.As she approached the sauce station, a peculiar sensation prickled at her nose—something sharp and fiery in the air. Her instincts, honed through years in professional kitchens, immediately signaled that something was wrong."The main sauce doesn't seem right," she murmured, leaning over one of the large pots. The rich aroma she had carefully developed hours ago had been overtaken by something else—something aggressive and pungent.Following her chef's instinct, Adaline took a small spoon and dipped it into the sauce, bringing a tiny sample to her lips. The moment it touched her tongue, her mouth erupted in flames. Her eyes widened in shock as the burning sensation spread across her palate, scorching her throat as she swallowed."Water!" she gasped, her voice barely audible as she doubled over, cou
Melanie Waston's fingers tightened around the kitchen knife as she chopped vegetables, cursing under her breath. The humiliation of being put in her place by her own daughter burned like acid in her stomach. "That girl will never get away with this," she muttered, the knife coming down with unnecessary force on an innocent carrot. "Never." The young kitchen assistant working beside her glanced over nervously. Melanie noticed the look and forced her expression into something more pleasant. "So," she began, her voice honey-sweet, "how long has my daughter been working here? I've been... away, you see. Family matters." The assistant seemed hesitant but eventually replied, "I just saw her for the first time this morning. But everyone respects her already." "I'm sure they do," Melanie said, her smile not reaching her eyes. "And... the Westfields? How do they treat her?" The assistant's face lit up. "Oh, Mr. Westfield—the CEO—he really likes her skills. Might even like her too, if yo
The kitchen was a flurry of coordinated chaos as the evening of Justin's sister's homecoming party approached. Steam rose from pots, the aroma of herbs and spices filled the air, and Adaline moved with practiced efficiency between stations, checking sauces and inspecting plated appetizers."Perfect. These look absolutely stunning," she praised one of the assistants who had artfully arranged canapés. The young woman beamed with pride.The kitchen doors swung open, and Adaline expected to see Justin or perhaps Grecia checking on their progress. Instead, her blood froze. There stood Melanie, her mother, dressed in the uniform of a kitchen assistant, her eyes widening in shock as they locked with Adaline's.For a moment, neither moved. The bustling kitchen seemed to fall silent around them, though in reality, the work continued, unaware of the tension crackling between mother and daughter."Mother?" Adaline finally managed, her voice barely audible over the kitchen's din.Before she could
Adaline wiped the sweat from her brow as she surveyed the busy kitchen. The clatter of pots and pans, the sizzling of oil, and the rhythmic chopping of vegetables created a symphony of culinary activity around her. As the newly appointed head cook, she felt the weight of responsibility bearing down on her shoulders. Tonight's party wasn't just any gathering—it was a statement, a demonstration of her capabilities."The sauce needs more seasoning," she instructed one of the new recruits, a young woman whose hands trembled slightly as she stirred the large pot. "Remember, we're cooking for discerning palates tonight."The kitchen doors swung open, and Justin entered, his presence commanding immediate attention. His tailored suit contrasted sharply with the white uniforms of the kitchen staff, a stark reminder of the different worlds they inhabited."How are preparations coming along?" he asked, his eyes meeting Adaline's."On schedule," she replied confidently, though her heart skipped a
The elegant teacup shattered against the wall, porcelain fragments scattering across Melanie's living room floor. Evelyn didn't flinch, merely arching a perfectly groomed eyebrow as she rubbed her swollen belly."That was Limoges, Melanie. Worth more than your monthly rent, I'd imagine.""I don't give a damn about the cup!" Melanie hissed, her face contorted with fury. "You were supposed to play the part! 'I'm so sorry, Adaline. It was a mistake. I was weak.' That's all you had to say!"Evelyn rolled her eyes. "I couldn't do it. The moment I saw her face in that courtroom, looking all righteous and wounded... I just couldn't stomach it.""Couldn't stomach it?" Melanie's voice rose dangerously. "This was the plan! Get her to forgive Michael, bring her back into the fold, and then we'd all have access to what we need!"Michael emerged from the kitchen, a tumbler of whiskey in hand. He looked exhausted, his suit jacket discarded, tie loosened. "It's over, Melanie. She's not coming back.
The Westfield Children's Home was a sprawling Victorian building set back from the road, its grounds well-maintained with bright flower beds and a modern playground. As they pulled up to the entrance, Adaline felt a familiar warmth spread through her chest. This place had always been her sanctuary."I'll only be an hour or so," she told Martin."Take your time, Ms. Adaline. Mr. Justin didn't specify when to return."Inside, the home bustled with afternoon activity. Children's laughter echoed down hallways decorated with colorful artwork. Adaline signed in at the reception desk, explaining she was a former volunteer."We're always happy to have extra hands," the receptionist smiled. "The younger children are in the east wing playroom if you'd like to help there."Adaline found herself sitting cross-legged on a carpet surrounded by toddlers, helping a small girl with pigtails build a tower of blocks. The child giggled as Adaline made exaggerated expressions when the tower wobbled."High
Evelyn's lips curled into a sneer as she watched Adaline turn to leave. "Running away again? Just like you ran from your responsibilities as a wife." Her voice rose, deliberately drawing attention from passersby on the courthouse steps. "No wonder Michael came to me. At least I can give him a child."Adaline stopped mid-step, her body tensing. She turned slowly, facing her former friend."You know nothing about my marriage," she said, her voice low and controlled."I don't?" Evelyn cocked her head, eyes glittering with malice. "Did you think Michael kept your little secrets? Those nights you cried into your pillow? The way you'd flinch whenever you saw a baby?" Adaline's breath caught. "Stop it, Evelyn.""Why should I? Everyone should know what a fraud you are. Perfect Adaline Watson, with her fancy degree and family name, can't even do what women have done since the beginning of time."Evelyn laughed, a harsh sound devoid of humor. "I know everything, Adaline. Michael told me all ab
Her mother sniffed. "Marriage isn't about romance, Adaline. It's about building something lasting. Michael made a mistake, but he's still a good provider. You always were too sentimental.""Your Honor," Adaline spoke clearly, rising from her seat, "this marriage has been loveless from the start. An arrangement my mother made to secure her financial future." She turned toward Michael. "He's abused me emotionally for years. When I couldn't conceive, he blamed me entirely, despite never getting tested himself. When his business failed two years ago, he took it out on me. When Evelyn pregnant, they made sure I knew about it."She laid a medical report on the judge's desk. "I've been seeing a therapist for the past year due to the emotional trauma this marriage has caused. I'm asking the court for a divorce on grounds of mental cruelty and adultery."The judge, a woman in her sixties with shrewd eyes, reviewed the documents before her. "Mr. Anderson, if an heir is your primary concern, it
Adaline checked her watch for the third time that morning—8:15 AM. She had sent Michael a terse text the night before: "Courtroom 3B. 9:00 AM tomorrow. Be there." No pleasantries, no explanations needed.Justin had arranged for his driver to take her, as promised. Martin, a tall man with kind eyes and a quiet demeanor, had arrived precisely at 7:30, giving her ample time to prepare herself mentally for what lay ahead."We're early, Ms. Adaline," Martin said as they pulled into the courthouse parking lot, the imposing stone building looming before them. "Would you like to wait in the car a bit longer?"Adaline shook her head, clutching her leather portfolio containing the divorce papers. "No, thank you. I'd rather be inside." The sooner this was over, the sooner she could begin rebuilding her life from the ruins Michael had left it in."Very well," Martin replied, opening her door. "Would you like me to accompany you inside?""That won't be necessary," Adaline said, smoothing down her