EMILY’S POVI stand in front of the courthouse. Carlos and I finally decided to get the divorce today. I glance at my watch for the third time in the past five minutes.Carlos is late.I let out a slow breath, trying to ignore the dull ache in my chest. He isn’t the type to be late—not for something this important. Our divorce signing was supposed to be a clean, professional exchange, just ink on paper before we walked away from each other for good.But he isn’t here.I pull my phone from my coat pocket and dial his number. The call rings once, twice, three times.No answer.I try again.Still nothing.A pit forms in my stomach. Carlos may have been many things during our marriage—distant, impossible to read—but unreliable was never one of them. He wouldn’t just forget. He wouldn’t just disappear.I shake my head, pushing the thoughts aside as I scroll through my contacts and press the number of the next best person to give me an answer.Sarah.“Good morning, Miss Emily,” she says.“
EMILY’S POVI stood frozen in the doorway. My heart is pounding so violently I could feel it in my throat. My breath came in shallow gasps as I took in the scene before me. Carlos and Lina. Together. In bed. Tangled in each other’s arms like they had all the time in the world.A I had been waiting for him all day, watching the clock tick by second after agonizing second. Today was supposed to be the end—the day we finally signed the divorce papers, the day I closed this chapter of my life and moved forward. And yet, here he was, tangled in silk sheets with the very woman he was leaving me for.Alexander, standing beside me, murmured something. I could hear the disbelief in his voice, but I couldn’t turn to look at him. My eyes were glued to Carlos, to the way he lay so peacefully.How could he sleep so soundly after what he had done?Rage spread through me like wildfire. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. I could feel my body trembling with the anger I felt. I turned to Alexand
CARLOS’ POVI still feel groggy. My head feels like it's stuffed with cotton. As Emily leaves, I try to piece together what the hell just happened. The last thing I remember is lying down, exhausted but restless. The night feels like it has slipped through my fingers like sand, and I don’t understand why.Then I hear the sharp sound of a door slamming. Emily.My heart clenches, and confusion grips me. Why did she leave like that? My muscles protest as I try to think. Something isn't right. There’s a bitter taste on my tongue and my mind screams at me that I’ve been out for much longer than I should have been.Across the room, Lina stands near the window with her arms folded, watching me with an unreadable expression.“What the hell just happened?” I ask.Lina exhales “You overslept”My mind reels, connecting pieces that don’t fit. “Wait… why do I feel like I’ve been drugged?”Lina's silence is deafening.My stomach drops. A feeling of dread goes down my spine.No…She wouldn’t….“Lina
EMILY'S POVThe moment I step out of the hotel, I can’t help the tears that fall from my eyes. My heels click angrily against the pavement as I march away, blinded by tears. My breath shudders with the weight of my emotions. My hands shake as I clutch my purse.The world is spinning.Carlos delayed our divorce hearing once again. Why? Because of Lina. The hold that woman has on him makes me jealous."Emily!" Alexander's voice echoes behind me. I can hear the sound of his footsteps as he struggles to catch up with me "Wait!"I don’t stop. I can’t. If I do, I’ll fall apart, and I refuse to let anyone—especially him—see me this way. But my legs betray me. out of my control, my legs slow down because deep down, I want someone to stop me. To tell me I’m not crazy. That I’m not overreacting. That I matter.Footsteps pound behind me, quicker, stronger, until Alexander finally catches up. His hand closes gently around my wrist. I jerk away instinctively, but he doesn’t let go completely, just
EMILY'S POVEMILY’S POVThe past few days have been a blur of exhaustion, nausea, and an overwhelming need to rest. I spend most of my time curled up in bed, trying to ignore the waves of sickness that come and go like the tide. The air in my room feels heavy, suffocating almost, and I long for something—anything—to ground me.Then, my phone rings.I glance at the screen. My heart skips when I see the familiar name flashing across it. Grandma.Taking a deep breath, I answer. "Grandma?""Emily, sweetheart!" Her voice is warm, full of love "How have you been, dear? It’s been too long since we talked."I swallow hard, forcing a smile even though she can’t see it. "I’m okay, Grandma. Just… taking it easy.""You don’t sound okay," she notes, "Are you eating well? You need to take care of yourself, darling."I hesitate, pressing my fingers against my forehead. "Yeah, I am. Just tired, that’s all."She hums in disapproval, but thankfully doesn’t push. "Why don’t you come over today? I’ve mis
EMILY’S POVThis is it. No more delays, no more second-guessing. We have dragged this out long enough. Today, I am going to finalize my divorce and close this painful chapter of my life.“Emily,” his voice comes through the receiver, hesitant. “I—”“We need to finalize the divorce,” I cut him off before he can start with any pleasantries or excuses. “No more games, Carlos. It’s time.”There is a pause, then a sigh. “I know,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the court the other day. I—”“It doesn’t matter.” My voice is firm. “We’ve delayed this long enough. I just want this to be over.”Carlos exhales deeply, and for a moment, there is nothing but silence between us. I hear the faint rustling of papers in the background, as if he is searching for something—perhaps an excuse, another reason to put this off. But I am not going to let him.“Emily… are you sure this is what you want?” His voice is softer now. “Like, right now?”My grip on the phone tightens. “Yes.”“Separate
EMILY'S POVI walk into the police station. The air is thick with the scent of coffee and sweat. My heels click against the floor as I approach the front desk. At this point, my patience is hanging by a fragile thread."I'm here to pay Carlos Carter’s fine," I state, sliding my credit card across the counter.The officer behind the desk, a middle-aged man, barely spares me a glance as he retrieves the necessary paperwork. "You his wife?" he asks, flipping through a file."Soon to be ex-wife," I correct. I am irritated, and my voice shows it.The officer lets out a low hum."Happens a lot," he says, stamping a form. "But if you ask me, divorces drag longer when one of the parties doesn't really want it."I stiffen. "Trust me, officer. One of the parties definitely wants it."I take the receipt and follow him through the secured hallway. And then, I see him.Carlos. My husband—soon to be ex-husband—leaning lazily against the wall of the holding cell, looking like a mess of expensive bad
CARLOS' POVThe world spins when I first open my eyes. My head pounds like someone is slamming a hammer against my skull. My throat is dry, and the bitter taste of regret lingers in my mouth. The fluorescent lights above make me wince, and when I shift, a dull ache spreads through my stomach.The last thing I remember is throwing up on a pavement before everything goes black.I groan softly, bringing a hand to my face. My whole body feels like it has been wrung out and left to dry. Then, I hear a voice—soft, but filled with frustration."You're awake."Emily stands at the side of my hospital bed, arms crossed. Her lips are pressed together, and her eyes—God, her eyes hold so much emotion. Concern, exhaustion, and something else I can't quite place.I manage a weak smirk, though it probably looks more like a grimace. "Hey, angel. You here to scold me?"Emily sighs, shaking her head. "Carlos, you drank yourself into a hospital bed. What were you thinking?"I shrug, regretting it instant
EMILY’S POVThe air in the room thins until it feels like I’m breathing through a straw.I stare at Lina in shock. For a moment, I think I’m seeing things.What the hell is she doing here?My mouth is dry and my heart is hammering so loud I can barely hear anything else. She stands there in the doorway like she owns the place, hips cocked to the side, perfectly manicured nails tapping against her tablet. Her red dress clings to her body like it’s painted on. Her hair falls down her shoulders in perfect, glossy waves.I force my voice to work. "Lina? What... what are you doing here?"“Lina?” Bridget echoes in confusion.Lina smiles. That smug, superior smile she’s perfected so well. It’s like she’s drinking in the chaos she’s just unleashed, savoring it. She catwalks into the room as if she belongs there.Around me, the board members shift uncomfortably. I hear low whispers.Bridget, from the side of the room, mutters under her breath, "Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me."Victori
EMILY’S POVThe trip to Paris was great. Alexander’s driver drops me off at home. I didn’t have anything to drink but for some reason, I feel hungover.I’m barely through the front door when my phone buzzes again. A maid opens the door for me.“Good day, Miss Emily” she greets.“Hi” I say to her with a smile “How are you?”I go in, slipping out of my shoes, and glance at the screen. It’s an email.I tap it open, expecting another promotional message or maybe something from the clinic — but when I see the subject line, my heart leaps into my throat.Partnership Proposal: Maison de Lune Fashion House.I blink once. Twice. Just to make sure I’m not seeing things. No, I’m not imagining it.My fingers fumble a little as I click it open, reading the words over and over again. They’re inviting me — me — to a meeting. They want to talk about bringing my designs to life. They’re interested in opening a studio. With me.A squeal rips out of me before I can stop it. I spin around in the middle o
DANIEL’S POVI sit at my desk. My fingers are tapping on the table as the monitor in front of me flashes search results. Lina. Lina. Lina. Dozens of articles. Hundreds of names. None of them her.Each time I think I've found a lead, it slips through my fingers like smoke. A "Lina Morales" in Boston — no match. A "Lina M." in Los Angeles — wrong face. Wrong age. I close each tab one after another. With each second, I get more frustrated."She's a ghost," I mutter under my breath. Not even a damn traffic ticket. Not a whisper of scandal. Nothing. And that, in itself, is the biggest red flag of all.Nobody's that clean. Not unless they have a reason to scrub their past.I know nothing about her apart from the fact that she was married which I find absurd.I lean back in my chair, running a hand through my hair.Why are you hiding, Lina? What the hell are you so desperate to erase?I can't shake the feeling — that itching intuition that something big is sitting just beneath the surface, h
CARLOS’ POVThe sun is too damn bright.I squint as I step out of the car, watching Lina prance ahead of me toward the massive baby boutique like she’s heading into a candy store. Her heels click confidently on the pavement and her hand waves behind her as if to say come on, slowpoke. I catch up because I have to—not because I want to.Truth is, I feel like I’ve been dragged here. Like a leash has been tied around my neck, pulling me along with every smile, every “Carlos, this’ll be fun,” As the glass doors slide open, I hear the sound of lullabies inside the store. Everything is shiny. Expensive. The kind of place where cashmere blankets are folded like art and cribs cost more than some people’s rent.“Isn’t it beautiful?” Lina’s voice is sugar. She spins on her heel and takes my hand, tugging me forward. “I’ve been dying to come here.”I give her a faint smile. “Isn’t it a little early to be shopping?”She waves me off. “It’s never too early. We’re gonna be parents, Carlos! We nee
CARLOS’ POVIt’s nearly midnight by the time I pull into the driveway.I don’t move.My hand rests on the steering wheel. My fingers are clenched around it like I’m hanging on to something that isn’t there anymore. I stare at the door. The light above it is on—of course it is. Lina always waits up. Whether it’s out of care, obligation, or suspicion, I still haven’t figured out.I lean back into the seat and close my eyes, trying to breathe through the weight that presses down on my chest.Emily.Her name slips into my thoughts. No matter how hard I try to shove her into some corner of the past, she always finds a way to creep back in. Her laugh. The way she used to greet me at the door in those big, fuzzy slippers with her hair pulled back and a smile that felt like home.God, I’m such a damn idiot.I divorced her. Why?Because it started as a contract. That’s what I keep telling myself. It was supposed to be transactional. Practical. We were never meant to feel anything.Except we do
Emily’s POVThe silk of the green dress shimmers under my fingertips as I smooth it down over my hips. I stare at my reflection one last time. The sweetheart neckline is modest yet elegant.The dress is perfect. Absolutely perfect.I snap a few pictures, biting my lip as I angle my phone just right. Then I hit send—to Bridget and Helen, because of course I have to. Almost immediately, my phone buzzes.Bridget: Girl, are you trying to end him? 😍🔥Helen: You’re a goddess. If he doesn’t faint on sight, I will.I laugh out loud. With one last spritz of perfume and a shaky deep breath, I step into the hallway and make my way down the elevator.Alexander is waiting in the lobby.The moment his eyes land on me, his eyes widen in surprise. He straightens to his full height. His eyes are locked on me like I’m the only woman in the world. Slowly, he walks to me with his lips partly open.He stops just in front of me, reaching for my hand as though it’s sacred. Then he lifts it to his lips.“Y
EMILY’S POVBack at the hotel, I slip off my shoes and finally exhale. After a quick shower, I pull on an oversized t-shirt Alexander gave me and crawl into the ridiculously soft hotel bed. I grab my phone and snap a couple of photos—the city skyline glowing from the window, the luxurious bathroom, the impossibly fluffy robe hanging on the door.I send them to Bridget and Helen.Bridget replies almost immediately: You’re one kiss away from falling for this man.I snort. Not gonna happen. He’s just… being sweet.Helen sends three heart-eyes emojis. Sweet is a slippery slope.I toss my phone aside and lie back, staring up at the ceiling. The room is quiet. I should feel relaxed, but instead, my mind won’t shut off. I’m grateful, absolutely. This whole surprise trip is thoughtful and generous. But not romantic. Not for me. And yet…I wonder if I’m being unfair. Am I giving Alexander the wrong idea? Should I have drawn a clearer line? He’s sleeping in the next room, probably thinking thi
EMILY’S POVThe jet touches down in Paris, and even though I’m tired to the bone, I press my face to the window like a kid. The city lights sparkle below us, and off in the distance, the Eiffel Tower glows like something out of a dream.I’m here.I’m actually in Paris.I can hardly believe it.Sure, I’ve traveled to a lot of places. But the fact that Alexander brought me here is still surprising to me. I mean, what guy takes you on his private jet to Paris all because you were having a stressful time? It says a lot about him and I don’t know how to process it.I rub my belly, smiling down at my child.“Hey baby” I whisper “We’re in Paris”As we step off the plane, the cool night air hits me. I shiver a little, and Alexander places a hand lightly on my back.“Welcome to the City of Lights,” he says with a smile in his voice.I smile back, trying to hide how overwhelmed I feel. “I still can’t believe you brought me here.”He gives me that look—like he’s proud of himself. “Just wait unti
EMILY’S POVThe dining table is a beautiful mess this evening. My laptop is open. Pencils are scattered and swatches of fabric are laid out beside sketches I’ve been working on all week. The sun has just started to set. It makes the colors in my designs look warmer, more alive. I’m in my zone, sketching out a flowy blush-toned evening dress while clicking between email drafts. I’m working on proposals to send to luxury boutiques and a few eco-friendly fabric brands, pitching my ideas for potential collaborations.For once, I’m not just dreaming—I’m doing. I’m really serious about starting something for myself. A fashion studio, my own label. Maybe I’ll even enroll in fashion school later on. This makes me happy. It’s always been my dream and it’s never too late to start.On my iPad, propped up by a napkin holder, a Facetime call with Bridget and Helen plays in the background. Bridget’s laugh is as loud as ever, and Helen looks effortlessly cool as always.“Okay, but that jumpsuit?” Br