I felt a stabbing pain in my chest. Just imagining that I'll have the unfortunate opportunity to see both of them together, live— not just in my head like I used to the past two years, was enough to make me feel suffocated.
“A plus-one…” I mumbled, masking the pain with ignorance. “I did not invite Elizabeth.”
“Your father did.” Alicia handed me the pad, where the list of the guests, special attendees, hosts, and organizers were listed. Elizabeth and Damian’s names were highlighted yellow— an indication that they were invited from my father’s end.
Seeing it in my own two eyes, I was speechless. Nagging what-ifs filled my mind, and I could only draw a deep breath as I tried not to show how I felt. There was a big lump in my throat, and I was a ball of trepidation as I handed the pad back to Alicia.
Agitation colored my eyes. My heart ached in despair. The event hadn't even started, but my energy was already drained.
“Let’s put your dress on, Mrs. Alistair.” My stylist spoke, nudging me back to reality.
But it was nothing compared to the weight of the fact that the two of them would be coming to the auction I created together. Not minding the people— not fearing my presence.
Are they finally crossing out the idea of being together in private?
Had Damian really made his mind? What about Elon? The last time we talked, he said we’d wait until he'd recovered. Would that mean his feelings for Elizabeth were strong enough to disregard our son?
I shut my eyes tight.
I wore the dress and paired it with a few pieces of jewelry. Before I left, I called Elon’s private nurse to check on him, and hopefully, ease the discomfort I was feeling, but even after the call ended, or even when I arrived at the venue, surrounded by business people, models, and fellow artists, I couldn’t shake off the distraction.
It clung to me like a shadow, and all I could do was stand near the entrance, inattentively trace the details of my ring with my fingers, as I scanned the whole place searching for their presence.
“Good Evening, Mrs. Alistair.” One of the special guests, Mrs. Jim, greeted me as she entered the hall. “The venue speaks so much about you. I’m even more excited about your paintings— and portraits!”
“Good Evening, Mrs. Jim.” I swallowed hard, and tried to keep my eyes on her. “T-thank you for coming.” I forced a smile, and made an effort to open a conversation. “I... see you don’t have Mr. Jim by your side…”
“He’s on a business trip. But worry not, I’m not here to simply fill a spot. I’m a fan, and my will to support this event is firm.” Mrs. Jim mischievously smiled, giving me light tap on my arm, before sending a meaningful glance. “I’m heading in, Mrs. Alistair.”
I nodded, and immediately attempted to return the energy. “Please enjoy.”
The joy in my eyes dropped as she walked past me. But Mrs. Jim wasn’t the first and last to approach me. Many engaged me in a conversation and each passing second weighed on me— more so when I finally spotted Damian, together with Elizabeth.
It was torture to try not to look their way. But as the party started, I had no choice but to walk all over the place, put in my best efforts to fulfill my role in this auction, drown in the feeling of taking a step closer to my grave with each forced smile, and in every feigned sense of gratitude.
It was almost as if my soul was quivering in agony of being in the same place as my husband's mistress, who also happened to be my sister.
“I’m just curious to know, Mrs. Alistair. I have seen your husband a while ago, but why are you not together?” Ms. Lima, an owner of a big cosmetic brand in town asked, her brows protruding. “And I’ve been hearing the same thing from the guests. Why is she with Elizabeth?”
I was caught off guard. “My…”
And in the face of confusion, why, out of all people, do I have to go through it alone?
“My husband and sister are working together. Their collaboration is to be released, and I’ve been informed it’s a part of their marketing.” I lied in a heartbeat, my hands clamped tight together. It was the same excuse I kept telling people.
I was faltering on the inside, but something’s telling me that everything depends on what I answer now. With the three of us in the same place, if I shed a tear at this very moment, it would be the same as admitting our crumbling marriage.
Ms. Lima raised her brows and nodded in agreement with what I said. She bought it. “I see. I’ll surely look forward to that.”
Our conversation was disrupted when the host spoke, putting the auction in place. The guests gradually made their way to their designated table, and it was my cue to excuse myself and head up to the stage.
The organizers started lining up the pieces about to be sold tonight in the backstage, meanwhile my father and I were given a short time to make a speech before the bidding.
A hundred and sixty seconds on the stage, knowing all eyes were on me, including theirs, I felt like a sore thumb. Though I managed to deliver my speech right, I was so nervous I went straight to the bathroom to calm myself right after.
I washed my hands, looked at my pale face in the mirror, inwardly battling the unsettling feeling residing in my chest. Should I just go, and look after Elon? Everything’s set. No one would look for me— beside my father.
“I’ve never seen you lose your cool…”
A familiar voice coming from the doorway brought me back to reality.
My body tensed, going completely rigid. “Elizabeth…” I muttered under my breath.
Elizabeth made a sly, taunting chuckle, walking straight towards me. “I’ve been dreaming for this day to come, Eleanor. The moment you find out about me and Damian. But I never thought you would be this stupid.”
“Not here, Elizabeth.” My eyes were a pool of hatred and betrayal when I turned to her. Her eyes were mocking, confident and in high spirits. The same pair of eyes that would drown me in misery whenever she achieved something she knew I longed for.
Now, I know what those looks were all about.
“Damian told me about your separation.” She closed the distance, leaving only tension in between us. “You know what’s next?”
I breathed hard enough for my shoulders to move.
“Stop.” I shook my head, and brought my eyes down.
“Elon..”
“Elon..”My legs weakened. I propped my hand at the sink for support, and drew a deep breath as I tried to compose myself. “Elon is my son,” I countered, a bit firmly, meeting her scornful gaze. “I did not say anything about your relationship with Damian, but do not think you can take my son away from me.”For twenty years, my goals revolved around achieving the same things Elizabeth did. I respected her a lot, envied her, made her my role model, even tried to follow her footsteps, except it wasn't very hard because she naturally had that star quality, and a mere imitation like me wouldn't be able to copy that. It wasn't until I was twenty-one that I realized our differences; appreciated who I grew up to be.I started to feel less inferior. I began to have friends who thought I was amazing, and they made me believe I didn't have to be as good as anyone, because I had a great talent and other traits I should be more proud of. Maybe that was the starting point of this huge wall between
"What is it to you, Damian?"I felt an invisible rope around my neck as I looked at Damian with my emotions naked in his eyes. The same moment, I felt like I asked the wrong thing. But I also wasn't sure. Had I asked him about that one thing I have been curious about, would I have been ready for his answer?What is it to him? That was the only question I could throw right now. Why was he here inside my car asking me about a man I have been friends with since college? Those accusing eyes— what made him finally come to me without an emergency?Does being with Mike bother him? Did it pierce his heart, make his knees weak, send shivers down his spine? Did it hurt him as much as it did to me when I went through two whole years pretending I didn’t know about his affair with my sister?I wish. Because none of them have any idea how I managed to get through their betrayal every day. You absolutely have no idea, Damian. How many times I slept on the couch waiting for him to get home, how ofte
We did it many times. But Damian wasn't satisfied just doing it inside the cramped car. We went to the nearest hotel, and I lost track of how many times he claimed my body. His every movement was intense, passionate, hungry.Gone was the gentle Damian who would let me rest after a round or two back when we were still a happy couple. He showed me another side of him that I hadn't seen before; perhaps one that Elizabeth built. But I wouldn't say I hate it. I couldn't bring myself to.I longed for it. As stupid as it may sound, I hoped it would change something between us.I hoped. Because the next day, when I woke up, and tried to reach for the other side of the bed, he was no longer with me. Not even a trace of him was there, and I had to repeatedly force myself to believe it wasn't a dream.It was too vivid to be a dream. So, I got myself ready to see him at the hospital."Mommy!" Elon's cheerful voice was what welcomed me the moment I entered the room— before my eyes fell to his two
I bawled my eyes out.The moment he turned his back on me, I quickly ran in the opposite direction to relieve the pain. I cried in one of the cubicles in the comfort room, covered my mouth so I wouldn't be heard. I ran out of tissues but still, the stinging pain didn't disappear, and I just stood behind the door, waiting for the afflicting woe to dry out.Damian's words echoed in my mind countless times as I feebly hung fire— none of it were clear enough for me to digest. I couldn't understand how he could care for Elizabeth's feelings, and not mine. Above all, I wasn't sure I could put my mind to rest knowing that I still didn't hear the reason he kissed me on the car; the reason he was so mad about Mike.He can't just tell me those were a spur of the moment because it wasn't. His emotions were raw... why? what for?I took a deep breath. I removed my glasses, then rested my back on the swivel chair. I had just finished answering queries from potential clients. Apparently, Alicia was
"Agreed..."The smile on my face collapsed. Just like that, the conversation was interrupted, and the good ambiance circling around was disturbed. Standing up to face him was my initial reaction. Had I not been more careful, I would've voiced out the question that popped in my head as soon as our eyes met.What was he doing here?"I didn't know you're invited." Abby expressed herself the most profound way."This is also my house. I didn't need to be invited." Damian made it clear, raising a brow."I was talking about our conversation, but thanks for reminding me, Damian." Abby answered sarcastically.I returned my gaze to Abby to refrain her from engaging in a discord with Damian. "I'm sorry. I didn't give him a heads-up because I thought he was going to look after Elon."I gently pulled Damian by his arm to take him away from the dining table."That was rude, Damian." I had to say, my face full of discontent. "Why did you come? Elon's going to be all alone.""Elizabeth was there." He
Days passed. Damian and I took turns visiting Elon. It was difficult to dodge Elon’s questions, but facing Damian had begun to feel exhausting, especially since he now often visits Elon with my sister. For that reason, I could not open the topic about asking for a second opinion, as well as taking Elon to California to receive the best possible treatment.I was thinking about doing it this week. No matter what, I was determined to discuss it with him. Further delaying it would only make our son suffer, and that would be the last thing I want right now. Elon was starting to look for his friends, mention his school and teachers. I was afraid his condition would become a reason for him to feel sadder and lonelier. Though I knew it would eventually take a toll on him, I was hoping I could do something to lessen it.“Mommy…” Elon’s voice was filled with distress when he called me. “You’re not going to leave Daddy, right?”I stopped caressing his hair. Elon looked over his shoulder to see m
".... lay low."My body went rigid. My heartbeat slowed, and I halted. Was I hearing things? Did I mishear it? Because there was no way my father would know of their relationship. He may have favored Elizabeth growing up, but he wouldn't condone such a mistake. He wouldn't allow a transgression like that in our family."And back down, dad? We can make stories and manipulate the media. Rumors are just rumors if we can cover them up with some fabricated statements and press releases.""I can't afford to lose this position to Manuel or Roque. Do what I say, or I will not approve of your marriage the moment Damian and Elizabeth divorce."My pulse hammered in my ears, drowning out Elizabeth and Dad's voices from a few meters away. My heart pummeled as I tried to process what I just heard. Fabricating statements? Covering it up? Covering up what, her affair with my husband? She still wanted to deceive the whole world, while openly proving them wrong by showing intimacy in public with Damian?
I was never going to say it to Abby. I attempted to, but I had always believed it would make things more complicated if she knew. So, when I heard that she had seen both of them in the parking lot today, passionately sharing a kiss, I asked her out, fearing the words she might say next in the same room where Elon was in.When we got inside the car, I put my guard down and told her everything that had happened, from the day I started doubting Damian, up to this very day that I found out my dad was involved in it. I left nothing, and halfway, I burst into tears.I saw how Abby's cold expression melted into concern. There was certainly rage, but it was overshadowed by worry. She comforted me as I slowly opened up to her, and although finally talking about it made me feel a bit free, it no longer made me feel better.It was when I realized sharing my pain to Abby was too late. I was alreadfy far too consumed by it. "That motherfucker..." Abby gasped, looking up in disbelief. "Oh my god,
The apartment was quiet when I stepped inside. I closed the door behind me, took off my shoes, and coat, draping it over the chair by the door instead of hanging it up. I had to go to bed. It was late and I was tired, but my mind would not relax.I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water because I wanted to keep my hands occupied. The lights of the city shone outside the window, distant and static. I drank slowly and leaned against the counter.My phone was vibrating on the table.Mike.You alright?I exhaled rapidly and shook my head. I didn't know why I was surprised. He always listened. Even when I didn't want him to.Yes. You?He responded after a few seconds.You know me. Always okay.I stared at the screen. I could imagine him saying it, that small smile in his voice, the way he always evaded answering without technically lying.I didn't respond. I had no idea what to say.I put my phone on the counter, had another sip of water, and shut off the kitchen light.
After dinner, the gallery quieted down to a comfortable hush. The takeout containers from leftovers were on the desk, and Alicia was scrolling through her phone, most likely reading the emails she'd put off eating. Mike settled back into his chair, his eyes straying in my direction every so often but not speaking much.Abby had already caught on.She always caught on."You're working late again?" she asked, putting on her coat.I shrugged. "Might as well. Got some things to wrap up."She looked at me knowingly but didn't push. "Alright. Don't burn yourself out."Alicia yawned, stretching her arms above her head before standing. "I should get going, too. Text if you need anything.""Will do."One by one, they left, their goodbyes soft in the quiet space. The gallery always felt different at night—still, untouched, like it existed in its own pocket of time.Mike hadn’t left yet.He was still in his chair, watching me. Not in an expectant way, not like he was waiting for me to say someth
I didn't want to continue argue with him. I didn't want to stay standing here, gawking at him, judging for whatever he would say because we both knew I'll never be able to believe him. There was no point.So, I gave him a once-over, before I slowly trudged in. But just as I was supposed to walked away from him, I felt a hand on my wrist."Are you not going to ask what happened to me? Aren't you curious?""Why would I be?" I asked, jiggling my wrist for release. "You're dead to me."Those words will hunt him. He probably didn't expect I'd say those after all these years we hadn't seen each other, but I couldn't care less.I was able to took back my arm from him, and when I did, I continued walking and didn't look back. He didn't pursue me any longer either— which was better for the both of us.We were nothing beside strangers now, and a conversation wouldn't do us any good.I headed back to my gallery after that, where Mike and Alicia were waiting for me. They were at the main office,
I woke up to the gentle hum of the just city beyond my window, the sun's first light filtering through the drapes. It was a quiet morning, free of the weights of workloads. I stretched, breathed deeply, and reveled in the smell of fresh linens and paint in the air—a home aroma that I had missed.It had been weeks since Mike and I returned. The transition had been smoother than I had imagined. The city was the same, the streets still throbbed the same, but I was different. I was no longer the fractured woman who had leave to heal. I had healed. I had crossed seas, strolled through ruins, and walked beneath skies Elon never had the chance to wander. And in going through it all, I wrote in his journal. Each letter, each dip of my pen, connecting me to him. My travels became his, my memories akin to what could have been his if only he lived.And somehow, it was as though he was present with me in every break of dawn and every foreign street.Mike accompanied me during those times— for mor
What Mike had said stuck with me. I stewed over it for days and let the words occupy the vacant space I didn't realize existed.It was a peaceful morning. Sun streamed through the blinds of our tiny rental apartment in a city I enjoyed but would eventually abandon. That was when I made a choice and half-heartedly told Mike that it was time to head back home.I did not want to go, really. I had learned something special this year—something good and freeing. But it was not going to last. I knew that the entire time. Maybe, in a sense, the trip had already done what it was supposed to: heal me from all the pain and trauma.At some point, we couldn't keep doing this—traveling. And I knew that. So, we booked our tickets home, packed our bags, bought souvenirs.The city did not shift when we returned. That was the first thing I noticed, and perhaps the most strange. It was as if it had waited for us, as if nothing had been disturbed. People still walked the streets, the same coffee houses s
The next day, I really left.The first night out of the town was strange to me—like freedom and something I couldn't quite comprehend myself. We rode a plane that soared through the air in silence as we departed, and when we arrived, the air gave me a different feeling. It was thicker and foreign. It was as if I had entered someone's dream. It was as if I had entered Elon's.We didn't really have a plan. We had a list of places that Elon had written in. Cities he circled in travel guides, underlined in the newspaper, and spoke of as if he knew he'd never live to see. So, I wrote for him. I started writing in his journal—first, just scribbles. Dates. Places. How the sidewalk felt beneath my feet, how the ocean echoed in a city he never visited. Then it became more. I wrote to him, as if he could read my words, as if he could follow me in the pages. By taking his journal and making it mine, I hoped to allow him to travel through me.The months went by like that. The ink from my pen tra
Morning came slowly, and sunlight dragged through the windows as an afterthought. And then my head throbbed, but not like grief did. Too many drinks, too much laughter, and just too much life for the first time in what seemed like forever left a dull ache.My body weight felt different. So I guess it was just not like the air was settling into my mattress and destroying me with images of a life that never happened.And then he appeared—Mike.Jacket and boots were tossed over the couch. His chair across from me was crossed with arms and a head tilted back—he was asleep. Peaceful. Thinking of him in that way made me feel something weird in my chest that I had not felt in a while. Comfort. Safety.Sitting up too quickly made me feel sick—nausea turned my stomach. That motion probably got him awake because he cracked an eye open and smiled lazily."You look like hell.""Thanks." The sleep and dehydration made my voice rough. I swallowed, rubbing my eyes. "What time is it?""Little past te
The night air was cold against my skin on the porch as I wrapped my fingers around a pot of tea. Distant cars hummed, leaves rubbed against each other, and it was the silence I had grown accustomed to. The last few weeks, I had been locked in this state, crying in a house that was more mausoleum than home.Yet somehow, tonight felt different. Perhaps it was the pain of carrying so much suffering for so long, or maybe the silver moonlight bathing the street lit something I had gone blind to. Whatever the reason, the words flew off my lips before I could stop them."I can't do this again."That realization settled in my chest—heavy, liberating. But it never felt complete—yet. As if drawn by something unseen, I stood and walked inside slowly but deliberately. My feet carried me up the steps, through the hall, and to the attic door. I hesitated before pushing it open, the musty scent of old wood and forgotten things greeting me.My fingers searched against dusty shelves for something—anyt
"You really want to pick yourself up, Eleanor?"I stared at him, my fingers floppy around the edge of the blanket, my mind sluggish from days of barely moving, barely eating. The weight of his question sat between us. Did I? Did I want to be better, or was I just pretending because I was tired of seeing his disappointment? My lips parted, but I hesitated. And then, slowly, I nodded.Mike studied me, unreadable. He took a deep breath and leaned back slightly, his gaze moving toward the ceiling as if debating something. When he finally spoke, his words were unexpected."Run away with me. Leave this town."I saw him blink. I scoffed—a weak, breathy sound barely above a laugh. "Don't be ridiculous, Mike."He didn't correct me. He just watched as I shook my head and brushed it away like it was nothing. Perhaps, to him, it wasn't nothing. But to me, it was absurd. Leaving the place that held every shattered piece of me was never an option. I could barely dream.This was my punishment. Stayi