Chapter 5

ARIA'S POV

I stood there, feeling my heart race, as I looked from Dante to Linda, then to Agatha, and finally back to Dante.

The words were burning on the tip of my tongue, begging to be unleashed. I wanted so badly to scream. But as I opened my mouth, ready to let it all out, I saw Agatha's face.

There was worry obvious in her expression, and the way she leaned on Linda for support. It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over me. The fight drained out of me in an instant.

What good would it do to cause a scene? Especially with the servants hovering nearby, their curious eyes darting between us. I already felt humiliated enough, and I could see the way they looked at me as they walked by.

"I... I just needed some time alone," I said at last, the lie tasting bitter in my mouth. "I should have let you know. I'm sorry."

Agatha's eyes narrowed slightly. "You needed some time alone?" she repeated, her voice laced with doubt. She shook her head, sighing heavily. "I don't have the strength for long talks right now."

"I'm sorry," I apologized again, the word seeming to be the only one I could freely say at that moment.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my stomach, similar to what I had felt in the hospital. I clenched my teeth, determined not to show any weakness. I couldn't let them see that I was sick and vulnerable.

Dante must have noticed the grimace on my face because he stepped closer, his brow furrowed. "Is there a problem?"

I forced a smile, hoping it didn't look as fake as it felt. "I'm fine."

Agatha chose that moment to speak. "I'm starting to feel hungry,” she said, looking at me. “Make me some porridge soup."

The pain hit me again, stronger this time, but I kept my face neutral. "Of course, I would be happy to," I started, then hesitated. "But... maybe it might be better if one of the servants prepared it?”

I immediately regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. Agatha's expression changed from surprise to anger in a heartbeat. She turned to Dante. "Just look at the woman you chose to marry. I can't even ask her to make me a simple bowl of porridge."

Dante sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Mother, I apologize." Then he turned to face me, his eyes hard. "Aria, I don't understand why you're being so difficult. Linda would never—"

"Don't," I cut him off, my voice barely above a whisper. "Please, don't compare me to her."

However, Dante wasn't done yet. He continued, his words like knives. "Linda knows how to take care of this family. She understands her responsibilities. Why can't you be more like her?"

As he unleashed his hurtful words, I looked away, avoiding his eyes and trying to endure the persistent sharp pain in my stomach.

I shouldn't be going through this. I should have just gone home with Adam. Why was I still here, getting insulted by people who clearly cared so little about me?

Dante was still talking when Linda suddenly cut in, her voice overly gentle. "It's alright, I'll go make the porridge. It's no trouble at all."

"See?" Agatha said as she smiled at Linda. "This is the perfect example of how a daughter-in-law should act.”

Dante shook his head. "No, Linda, you've done enough. You are not supposed to stress yourself." He turned back to me. "Aria, go make the porridge. And be quick about it."

I just stood there, staring at him. The look in my eyes could have bored a hole right through him. He called my name again, impatience creeping into his tone.

I shook my head slightly, then forced out, "I heard you the first time."

Before heading to the kitchen, I went to my room to drop off my stuffs. As soon as I closed the door behind me, I leaned against it and let out a shaky breath. I then walked to the mirror, dropping my bag on the bed as I passed.

The reflection that stared back at me was almost unrecognizable. My eyes were red and swollen, and my skin looked pale. As I touched my cheek, I felt the wetness of tears I hadn't even realized I had shed.

Another sharp pain ripped through me, and I winced, clutching my stomach. "Hang in there, little one," I murmured, rubbing my belly gently. "We'll figure this out."

I wondered, not for the first time, if I had made the right choice in coming back. Deep down, I knew it wasn't. But I loved Dante, more than I loved myself. And that love was slowly destroying me.

I shook my head, trying to clear the dark thoughts. I had a job to do, so I quickly washed my face in the bathroom, hoping to erase any signs of my breakdown.

As I made my way downstairs to the kitchen, I couldn't help but feel like I was walking to my own execution. The house felt cold, unwelcoming. It was hard to believe that just a few months ago, I had thought of this place as my home.

In the kitchen, I gathered the ingredients for the porridge, my movements slow. As I stirred the pot, my mind wandered.

"You know, you don't have to do this," a voice said from behind me, making me jump.

I turned to see Linda standing in the doorway, her arms crossed against her chest.

"I'm perfectly capable of making porridge," I said, turning back to the stove.

Linda sighed, moving closer. "That's not what I meant, Aria. You don't have to stay here, enduring all of this."

I laughed, but there was no humour in it. "Where should I go, Linda?”

"You have a family, don't you?" She shrugged.

I raised my head to look at her, and oh, how I wanted to slap that smug look off her face. The urge was so strong that my palm actually tingled. But I held back, swallowing the bitterness that threatened to choke me.

Instead, I just sighed, feeling exhausted. "Leave me alone, Linda. I'm busy."

She scoffed loudly, the sound irritating on my already ragged nerves. As she turned on her heel and walked out, I muttered under my breath, "Bitch."

When I was finally done cooking, the servants helped me serve the meal. My stomach was in knots, the pain becoming more intense with each passing minute. All I wanted was a hot bath and to crawl into bed.

As I started up the stairs, Agatha's voice could be heard from the dining room. "This porridge has no taste at all. It's like eating warm water!"

I paused, listening, hoping to hear Dante defend me. But his voice joined his mother's, agreeing with her criticism. Then came the laughter, sharp and mocking.

Hurt bloomed in my chest, spreading like poison through my veins. I shook my head, continuing up the stairs.

It wasn't their fault. It was mine for being so stupid, for believing in love and happily ever afters.

After I got my room, I closed the door behind me and leaned against it. My hands cradled my stomach, feeling the slight swell there.

"I'm only trying to endure all of this for you," I whispered to my unborn child, tears sliding down my cheeks. "But I really don't know how much more I can take."

The silence of the room was my only answer.