18. Crushing on you

Everything felt like it had dragged on for hours, and I was starting to feel like I was trapped in some twisted version of my life. But the question that haunted me—the one that stuck in my throat—was how did I end up here?

Emma had gone home, leaving me alone when I woke up. The aching pain in my body had only grown worse, a physical reminder of everything that had spiraled out of control.

“Thinking is not something I want my wife to do too much,” a voice cut through the silence, sending a cold chill down my spine. I wasn’t alone.

I turned my head, and there he was—Ivan, sitting by the window, casually flipping through a magazine with his picture plastered on the cover. He looked completely at ease, as if we weren’t trapped in this bizarre situation, as if nothing had changed. The fact that he kept acting like our marriage was something more important than the facade made me confused most times.

He stood up, tossing the magazine onto the chair, and walked toward me. "So, what’s on