14

Her fingers brushed against the doorknob to her room, trembling slightly as she pushed it open. The room was spacious and luxurious, but it felt hollow—like a gilded cage designed to remind her of the distance between her and Markus.

She closed the door behind her, the soft click echoing louder in her ears than she expected. She pressed her back against it, her body slowly sinking to the floor as the weight of her emotions bore down on her. She hugged her knees to her chest, burying her face as tears began to spill uncontrollably.

Her breath hitched as she cursed herself under her breath. “Why did I think... why did I assume things would be different?” she whispered to the empty room, her voice thick with emotion. “Why did I ever think I could be someone important to him?”

The words felt like shards of glass cutting through her heart. She had built up so many hopes when she married Markus, believing that love and respect would follow in time. But reality had crushed those dreams, leaving her with the bitter truth that she was nothing more than an obligation to him.

A small, bitter laugh escaped her lips, mingling with the tears streaming down her face. “Markus Moreno’s wife,” she muttered sarcastically, her voice breaking. “What a joke. How can I even call myself that when he doesn’t even want me in his life? When I’m nothing but an unwanted guest in this house?”

Her shoulders shook as the sobs came harder now, her hands clutching at the fabric of her dress. She couldn’t stop the painful thoughts from spiraling. She had wanted to be more to him—to be someone he looked at with admiration, with care, maybe even with love. But all she had ever received were cold glares and dismissive words.

“And he...” she choked out, her voice barely a whisper, “he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t know how much I tried, how much I wanted to make this work. How much I—”

She stopped herself, a fresh wave of despair washing over her. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to stifle her cries, but it was no use. The pain of rejection and the weight of her unspoken feelings were too much to bear.

Valeria’s thoughts drifted back to her ex, James. He had mocked her earlier, his cruel words cutting deep, but the most painful part was that he had been right. She had left him, chasing the dream of a better life with Markus—a dream that had turned into a nightmare.

“Maybe I made the wrong choice,” she thought bitterly. “Maybe I should have stayed with James. At least then, I wouldn’t feel this... this emptiness.”

But even as the thought crossed her mind, she felt a pang of guilt. Her feelings for Markus, complicated as they were, couldn’t simply be erased. And now, with the secret she carried—the knowledge of her pregnancy—her emotions were even more tangled.

She wiped her tears hastily, leaning her head back against the door. Her mind was spinning, torn between her love for Markus and the painful reality of their fractured relationship. She didn’t know how to fix this, or if it was even possible.

Taking a shaky breath, Valeria stared up at the ceiling, the ache in her chest refusing to subside. She knew one thing for certain—she couldn’t keep living like this. Something had to change. But how? And at what cost?

Valeria sat against the door for a few more moments, her body heavy with exhaustion from the emotional whirlwind of the evening. She wiped the last of her tears with the back of her hand, her cheeks raw and flushed from crying. With a deep, shaky breath, she pushed herself off the floor and walked slowly toward the bed, her legs feeling as though they might give way at any moment.

She slid under the covers, the cool sheets doing little to soothe the storm raging in her heart. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of the curtains moving with the breeze from the slightly open window. Her mind raced, replaying Markus's cold expressions, his harsh words, and the name he had whispered in his sleep—Bella.

As she turned on her side, her hand instinctively moved to rest on her belly. The simple gesture brought a fresh wave of emotion, her tears threatening to spill once more. She closed her eyes, her hand resting gently over the tiny life growing inside her, and whispered softly to herself.

"It's such a pity," she murmured, her voice breaking with sorrow. "Such a pity that your father doesn’t want you. He doesn’t even know about you."

She stroked her stomach gently, trying to find comfort in the connection she felt with her unborn child. "I don’t even know if I can tell him," she continued, her words barely audible in the silence. "How can I, when he’s so consumed by his hatred for me? When he’s already decided I don’t belong in his life?"

Valeria’s heart twisted painfully at the thought. She knew Markus would reject her child just as he had rejected her. The memory of his bitterness toward her made it hard to imagine him embracing the idea of being a father.

"I wish things were different," she whispered, her tears slipping silently down her cheeks. "I wish he could see you the way I do. That he could understand what a gift you are, what a miracle you are."

Her fingers brushed against her belly as she closed her eyes, trying to block out the overwhelming sadness. She thought about how alone she felt, knowing that the weight of protecting this child and giving them the love they deserved would fall solely on her. But even in her despair, she vowed to herself that she would do whatever it took to ensure her baby never felt unloved or unwanted.

"You’ll always have me," she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. "Even if it’s just the two of us, I’ll love you enough for both your parents."

The quiet promise gave her a sliver of strength, and she allowed herself to imagine the small moments of joy she might share with her child—their first smile, their first laugh, the warmth of holding them in her arms.

But the shadow of Markus loomed in her mind, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever come to know their child. Would he ever regret the way he had pushed her away? Would he ever look at their baby and see the reflection of himself, or would he choose to remain blind to what they had created together?

Valeria sighed heavily, her exhaustion finally taking over. Her hand remained on her stomach as she drifted off to sleep, her thoughts a tangle of hope and heartbreak. The soft knock on Valeria’s door broke through the haze of her restless sleep. 

Her eyes fluttered open, red and puffy from the tears she had shed the night before. For a moment, she stared at the ceiling, her mind blank and her body heavy with the weight of exhaustion. The knock came again, firmer this time, and she reluctantly pushed herself up from the bed.

“Come in,” she called out, her voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. The door opened to reveal Mrs. Stella, dressed impeccably as always, her expression calm yet laced with an air of urgency. She stepped into the room, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor.

“Good morning, Valeria,” Mrs. Stella greeted, her tone warm but brisk. “I hope I didn’t wake you too early.” Valeria shook her head, sitting up straighter and brushing her hair out of her face. “No, it’s fine. Is everything alright?” she asked, her voice still carrying the sleepiness of the morning.

Mrs. Stella walked closer, her gaze briefly scanning Valeria’s face before softening. “I wanted to speak with you before I leave,” she said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Valeria’s eyebrows furrowed. “Leave? Where are you going?”

“There’s some urgent business I need to attend to abroad,” Mrs. Stella explained, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “It’s something that requires my immediate attention, and I may be gone for a while.”

Valeria’s heart sank slightly. Mrs. Stella’s presence in the household had been her only source of comfort in recent weeks, a steadying force amidst all the tension and heartache. The thought of her leaving left Valeria feeling even more isolated. “I see,” Valeria said softly, her gaze dropping to her hands.

Mrs. Stella reached out, placing a hand gently over Valeria’s. “I know things haven’t been easy for you, my dear,” she said, her tone kind but firm. “But you’re carrying the Moreno heir, and that is no small responsibility.”