Olivia
The words didn’t make sense. I blinked, processing them, trying to force them to fit into the reality Leonard had painted for me earlier. “He left early today,” she added, her voice still polite. Still composed. My stomach twisted. Leonard never left early. Not when he claimed to be working late. Not when he told me he would be here. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “Alright. Thank you.” But my hands felt cold. My heart was beating faster now, my mind already spinning with questions, with doubts. I turned on my heel and walked straight to his office. The second I stepped inside, the air felt… wrong. Too still. Too cold. His cologne still lingered, faint but there, but the room itself-his desk, his chair, the papers neatly stacked-was untouched. Like he hadn’t been here for hours. Liar. I inhaled sharply, my hands trembling as I reached for my phone. I scrolled to his name, my thumb hovering over the call button before I pressed it. It rang. Once. Twice. Three times. The longer it took for him to pick up, the more something dark settled inside me. Four times. Five. Then…. “Olivia?” His voice was calm. Too calm. Like he wasn’t expecting me to call. “Where are you?” I asked, and I could already hear the sharpness in my own tone, the way I wasn’t in the mood to be played with. “I’m in your office.” A pause. Then, a small shift in his breath. “I’m… I’m with a client.” I closed my eyes for a second. And then I opened them. “You’re with a client,” I repeated slowly, my fingers tightening around the phone. “At this hour?” “Yes.” His voice was too even, too prepared. Like he had been expecting this. Like he had been waiting for me to call. I didn’t buy it. “Which client?” I asked. “Where are you?” Another pause. Longer this time. A pause long enough to confirm everything I already knew. “Olivia, I told you I’d be late. I’m handling something important.” Important. More important than our anniversary? More important than me? My breath came in shallow, uneven bursts as I pulled my phone away from my ear and swiped up, checking his location. Nothing. “Location unavailable.” My chest tightened. He turned it off. My husband, the man who had never once turned off his location in all our years together, had turned it off. The room suddenly felt too small. Too suffocating. My pulse was roaring in my ears, my hands numb. “Leonard,” I muttered with a low tone that was so deep and sounded dealt at the same time. “Where are you?” A sigh. “I told you, I’m with a client.” “In town?” Silence. The longest silence yet. Then, finally, his answer. “No. I’m… out of town.” The floor beneath me seemed to shift. Out of town. He was out of town. I opened my mouth, but before I could say a word. Click. The line went dead. My breath caught. I looked down at my phone, staring at the screen like it would somehow change what just happened. He hung up. He switched off his phone. Leonard had lied to me. And whatever he was hiding… It was bad. “I can’t believe the nerve of this man”. I paced around his office, my heels clicking against the marble floor, my breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts. My fingers tangled in my hair, tugging slightly as if that would somehow ease the frustration coursing through me. Out of town? With a client? Nonsense! My instincts screamed that something was off, and now I had proof. He wasn’t where he said he was. He lied to me. On our anniversary. And worse he had the audacity to hang up and shut off his phone like I was some clueless, helpless fool who wouldn’t dare question him. No. I wasn’t just going to sit here and drown in my suspicions. I was going to find out exactly what was going on. I yanked open my bag, digging through it until my fingers wrapped around the sleek surface of his laptop. My pulse quickened as I set it on his desk, flipping it open as I quickly pulled up the browser. My hands shook slightly as I typed in the search bar -Bintu Hospital contact number. Seconds later, the number appeared. My heart slammed against my ribs as I grabbed my phone and punched it in. The line rang. Once. Twice. Then, a soft, professional voice answered. “Good evening, Bintu Hospital. How may I assist you?” “Hi, I’d like to inquire about a patient. Her name is Elena.” A pause. “Are you a relative?” I bit my lip. “No, but it’s important. I just need to know if she had any visitors today.” Another pause. The soft clatter of keys typing on a keyboard. My entire body tensed as I waited, every second stretching endlessly. Then, finally… “Yes, she did,” the nurse confirmed. I exhaled sharply. My fingers tightened around the phone. “And who visited her?” The response came without hesitation. “Leonard Crawford.” Damn. I felt the breath leave my lungs. The room spun slightly as the words settled in my head. Leonard. My husband. He was with another woman on our anniversary.OliviaHe was home.I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just lay there, staring at the bedside lamp while my mind spun in circles. Same questions. Same ache. Same silence. The bedroom door creaked. The mattress dipped.Warmth pressed against my back. His body was molding into mine like nothing had changed. But everything had. His breath brushed my shoulder, warm and familiar. His arm slid around my waist, tugging me close with that soft, careful grip. The one he used when he knew he was guilty.“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, lips barely grazing my temple. “Work ran late. I didn’t mean to miss our anniversary.”Liar.I knew the second his scent hit me. His usual cologne was there. It was crisp and clean but underneath, I smelled something sharp. Hospital air. Bintu Hospital.My fingers curled into the sheets. Cold metal slid over my wrist. A bracelet. Diamonds, bright and blinding, wrapped in gold. Expensive. Beautiful. Another sorry gift.“It’s beautiful,” I whispered. My voice didn’t e
Olivia I couldn’t sleep.Patricia’s words had lodged themselves in my mind, sharp and relentless. Elena was the girl who sold her eyes. I sat in the dim light from the bedside lamp, my fingers curling around the edge of my phone. The screen was warm against my palm, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. If I did, I would make it real. If I did, I would chase a truth I might not survive.But the doubt was suffocating.I needed the truth.I scrolled through my contacts, the steady thrum of my pulse in my ears as I landed on the number I hadn’t dialed in years. Dr. Samuel Greene. The surgeon who had given me my sight. Without thinking, I pressed the call.The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Then…A click. “Dr. Greene speaking.”I swallowed, trying to steady my voice. “Dr. Greene, it’s Olivia. Olivia Crawford.” A pause. A breath. Then, wariness. “Olivia. It’s been a long time. What can I do for you?”“I need information.” There was a short silence then “About?”“I need to know who
Laughter filled the grand hall, clear and bright. It bounced off the chandeliers, surrounding the guests. But to me, it wasn’t lighthearted. It was painful. The sound twisted in my guts, reopening old wounds. I stood by the window, fingers tightening around the edge of my glass, watching small figures darting through the courtyard, their feet slapping against the cobblestone, their giggles bursting like firecrackers into the night air during festival periods. An orphanage.Fitting, isn’t it?I’ve always loved children and wished to have lots of kids when I become a woman but it would seem life has a way of laughing at one's face. And now?Now, I stand here.In a charity event with my husband. But not one of them is mine.Because life is cruel like that.Because fate has a twisted sense of humor.I forced my gaze away, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. But before I could take a step…. I heard these heart wrenching whispers. “Five years of marriage and still no child. Poor t
Olivia Later at night, I stepped out of the bedroom, lost in thought, my damp hair wrapped in a towel. The cool air kissed my skin, sending a shiver down my spine as I pulled my robe tighter around my body. I need to speak to him about my pain. I need him to know how desperately I want a child. I was so lost in thoughts when I heard a knock on the door. I exhaled slowly, steadying myself. Great. What now?“Coming,” I called out, forcing my voice into something that didn’t betray my exhaustion. When I opened the door, Mrs. Roger stood there, her face impassive, a silver tray balanced in her hands.“Madam, your tonic.” A bitter taste filled my mouth before I even took a sip. My stomach twisted violently, recoiling at the mere sight of it.Lord Have Mercy. This. Again. That damn concoction-dark, murky, reeking of herbs that never failed to churn my insides. I didn’t need to ask who had sent it, but I did anyway.“Did my mother-in-law send this?”Mrs. Roger hesitated, and that tiny fli
OliviaThe next day, my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, tangled and relentless. Who was this Elena woman? What kind of relationship did she have with my husband? Why was her name in a message from the very same hospital where I had my eye transplant?But I forced myself to push it aside.Focus on today, Olivia.Because guess what? Today is our wedding anniversary! Ihad planned the most splendid dinner night.Now, let’s be honest, folks-I am not a great cook. I mean, if survival depended on my cooking skills, I’d be in deep trouble. But that’s not the point, right? It’s the intention that matters. The love. The effort. So, I decided to help Mrs. Roger in the kitchen, determined to prepare something exquisite for my dear husband.Because that’s what a good wife does, right?I was elbow-deep in chopping vegetables, the rich aroma of spices filling the air, when I heard footsteps descending the stairs. And then, there he was.Leonard.With a smile stretched so wide across his face it
Olivia I couldn’t sleep.Patricia’s words had lodged themselves in my mind, sharp and relentless. Elena was the girl who sold her eyes. I sat in the dim light from the bedside lamp, my fingers curling around the edge of my phone. The screen was warm against my palm, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. If I did, I would make it real. If I did, I would chase a truth I might not survive.But the doubt was suffocating.I needed the truth.I scrolled through my contacts, the steady thrum of my pulse in my ears as I landed on the number I hadn’t dialed in years. Dr. Samuel Greene. The surgeon who had given me my sight. Without thinking, I pressed the call.The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Then…A click. “Dr. Greene speaking.”I swallowed, trying to steady my voice. “Dr. Greene, it’s Olivia. Olivia Crawford.” A pause. A breath. Then, wariness. “Olivia. It’s been a long time. What can I do for you?”“I need information.” There was a short silence then “About?”“I need to know who
OliviaHe was home.I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just lay there, staring at the bedside lamp while my mind spun in circles. Same questions. Same ache. Same silence. The bedroom door creaked. The mattress dipped.Warmth pressed against my back. His body was molding into mine like nothing had changed. But everything had. His breath brushed my shoulder, warm and familiar. His arm slid around my waist, tugging me close with that soft, careful grip. The one he used when he knew he was guilty.“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, lips barely grazing my temple. “Work ran late. I didn’t mean to miss our anniversary.”Liar.I knew the second his scent hit me. His usual cologne was there. It was crisp and clean but underneath, I smelled something sharp. Hospital air. Bintu Hospital.My fingers curled into the sheets. Cold metal slid over my wrist. A bracelet. Diamonds, bright and blinding, wrapped in gold. Expensive. Beautiful. Another sorry gift.“It’s beautiful,” I whispered. My voice didn’t e
Olivia The words didn’t make sense. I blinked, processing them, trying to force them to fit into the reality Leonard had painted for me earlier. “He left early today,” she added, her voice still polite. Still composed.My stomach twisted. Leonard never left early. Not when he claimed to be working late. Not when he told me he would be here.I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “Alright. Thank you.” But my hands felt cold. My heart was beating faster now, my mind already spinning with questions, with doubts. I turned on my heel and walked straight to his office.The second I stepped inside, the air felt… wrong.Too still. Too cold. His cologne still lingered, faint but there, but the room itself-his desk, his chair, the papers neatly stacked-was untouched. Like he hadn’t been here for hours.Liar. I inhaled sharply, my hands trembling as I reached for my phone. I scrolled to his name, my thumb hovering over the call button before I pressed it.It rang.Once.Twice.Three times.The lo
OliviaThe next day, my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, tangled and relentless. Who was this Elena woman? What kind of relationship did she have with my husband? Why was her name in a message from the very same hospital where I had my eye transplant?But I forced myself to push it aside.Focus on today, Olivia.Because guess what? Today is our wedding anniversary! Ihad planned the most splendid dinner night.Now, let’s be honest, folks-I am not a great cook. I mean, if survival depended on my cooking skills, I’d be in deep trouble. But that’s not the point, right? It’s the intention that matters. The love. The effort. So, I decided to help Mrs. Roger in the kitchen, determined to prepare something exquisite for my dear husband.Because that’s what a good wife does, right?I was elbow-deep in chopping vegetables, the rich aroma of spices filling the air, when I heard footsteps descending the stairs. And then, there he was.Leonard.With a smile stretched so wide across his face it
Olivia Later at night, I stepped out of the bedroom, lost in thought, my damp hair wrapped in a towel. The cool air kissed my skin, sending a shiver down my spine as I pulled my robe tighter around my body. I need to speak to him about my pain. I need him to know how desperately I want a child. I was so lost in thoughts when I heard a knock on the door. I exhaled slowly, steadying myself. Great. What now?“Coming,” I called out, forcing my voice into something that didn’t betray my exhaustion. When I opened the door, Mrs. Roger stood there, her face impassive, a silver tray balanced in her hands.“Madam, your tonic.” A bitter taste filled my mouth before I even took a sip. My stomach twisted violently, recoiling at the mere sight of it.Lord Have Mercy. This. Again. That damn concoction-dark, murky, reeking of herbs that never failed to churn my insides. I didn’t need to ask who had sent it, but I did anyway.“Did my mother-in-law send this?”Mrs. Roger hesitated, and that tiny fli
Laughter filled the grand hall, clear and bright. It bounced off the chandeliers, surrounding the guests. But to me, it wasn’t lighthearted. It was painful. The sound twisted in my guts, reopening old wounds. I stood by the window, fingers tightening around the edge of my glass, watching small figures darting through the courtyard, their feet slapping against the cobblestone, their giggles bursting like firecrackers into the night air during festival periods. An orphanage.Fitting, isn’t it?I’ve always loved children and wished to have lots of kids when I become a woman but it would seem life has a way of laughing at one's face. And now?Now, I stand here.In a charity event with my husband. But not one of them is mine.Because life is cruel like that.Because fate has a twisted sense of humor.I forced my gaze away, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. But before I could take a step…. I heard these heart wrenching whispers. “Five years of marriage and still no child. Poor t