CHAPTER 2: Restaurant

CLAIRE'S POV,

My hand trembled as I held the phone, Leonard’s name still glowing on the screen. I forced myself to breathe; each inhales stinging as I tried to push back the bitter ache clawing its way up my chest.

“Did you two sleep in the same bed last night?” I asked, my voice barely steady.

I could only imagine what I must have looked like—pale and hollow, shadows clinging to my face as I struggled to ask the question.

I knew he took care of her personally, that he’d go to any lengths for her, but the thought of them sharing a bed, like a couple… It was more than I could accept.

Charlotte’s chuckle drifted through the line, as light as if we were discussing the weather.

“Oh, Claire, don’t blame him,” she said, her tone laced with amusement. “He was just so exhausted last night that he fell asleep in my bed.”

The casual way she said it—like this was normal for them—cut me to my core.

My fingers turned white from clutching the phone, each word sinking deep, spreading a dull ache through my heart. I wanted to say something, to snap back—but I couldn’t find the words.

“Anyway,” she continued, her tone almost dismissive. “Why are you calling so early?” Her question was punctuated by a faint yawn as if I were the one disturbing her.

My stomach tightened.

“Today’s our anniversary. Would you ask him to meet me for lunch at our usual place?” I forced my voice to remain calm, hiding the tremble that threatened to reveal my rawness.

Charlotte made a small, breathy noise—something between a sigh and a laugh.

“I’ll let him know. Happy anniversary, Claire.” The way she said my name sent a chill down my spine, each syllable dripping with mockery, as though I were the outsider in my own marriage.

“I actually have something important to tell him. It's good—” But the line had already gone dead.

For a moment, I sat there, staring blankly at the screen.

The silence was heavy and oppressive, filling the room with an emptiness that pressed down on me.

The ring on my finger felt heavy, the weight of it all crushed me.

But despite everything, I knew I needed to see him today. I needed to tell him about the baby, about the life we’d created.

I didn’t know if it would change anything, if it would pull him back to me, but I still loved him. Even though that love sometimes felt like a wound that would never heal.

With a few deep breaths, I steadied myself and went to get ready.

I took a hot shower, letting the steam cloud the mirror, hiding the pale face staring back at me. I chose a cosy, bright red sweater I knew Leonard had always liked, adding a touch of makeup to mask the circles beneath my eyes, and left for the restaurant.

It wasn’t a fancy place. It wasn’t Michelin-starred or even well-known, but it was our place.

The restaurant looked the same as ever, with its soft lighting and cosy booths. Leonard knew I liked our lunches here, at noon, a quiet ritual we’d held to in the early days of our relationship.

He had been the one to rescue me here once, after all, back when everything was simpler, when I still believed he was my hero.

I thought back to that day, years ago, when I’d just graduated from architecture school. Back then, I was fresh-faced, eager, and hopeful—but the real world had proven harder than I’d imagined.

I was turned away from every job I applied for, and my qualifications were dismissed by men who saw me as nothing more than a woman who didn’t belong in their field.

Then I saw an ad from Leonard’s company. He was looking for a secretary. It wasn’t what I wanted to be, but I was desperate for work. I gave up my pride, applied, and got the job.

When I started, Leonard hadn’t recognized me from that awkward girl in the restaurant, the one hiding behind her brother’s old hat and looked like a tomboy. To him, I was just another face in the office.

But over time, I worked my way into his life. Slowly, he noticed me. And when he finally proposed, six months after we started dating, I thought he’d chosen me, that we’d built something real.

But as the minutes ticked by, my reflection in the polished silverware became my only company. Waiters passed by with pitying smiles, refilling the empty glasses at nearby tables, and the midday sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the room.

I tried calling him more than 4 times, but each attempt met only with the hollow, unending ring of an unanswered call.

Worry crept in, mingling with the ache in my chest. What if something had happened to him? Panic flared as I scrolled through my contacts, hesitating over a name I rarely used.

When I finally dialled, Emilia’s voice answered. “Why are you calling me?”

“Emilia, I need your help. Do you know where Leo is?”

My voice was tight and strained, my heart pounding as I held my breath, hoping for some reassurance.

Emilia, Leo’s younger sister, hated me just like the rest of his family. I was the outsider, the woman they believed unworthy of their wealth and status. A secretary turned wife wasn't a good look on their face.

“Of course. He’s at home,” she replied, her tone amused. “I thought you’d be here, considering the big celebration.”

I frowned, confusion twisting in my stomach. “Celebration? Where?”

She laughed, “Oh, that’s right. He didn’t tell you. They’re celebrating Charlotte today—at my parents’ house.”

My hand gripped the edge of the table, steadying myself against the wave of nausea that hit me.

“Charlotte?” I almost couldn’t feel the ground beneath me. “But it’s our anniversary…”

“Didn’t Leonard tell you?” Her tone was mocking, dripping with derision. “Good luck with your anniversary,” she said before hanging up.

I sat frozen for a moment, her words echoing in my head. What was there to celebrate about Charlotte? Why hadn’t Leonard told me about any of this? Why was he with her today, on a day that should have been ours?

My mind buzzed, a mix of confusion and disbelief. Before I knew it, I was outside, hailing a cab to his parents’ house. I clutched my bag tightly, Emilia’s laughter echoing in my ears as the cab wove through the streets.

When I arrived, the scene that greeted me was like a twisted dream. Charlotte sat in her wheelchair in the centre of the room, dressed in a vibrant red dress—the same shade as the sweater I wore.

She was radiant, surrounded by Leonard’s family and friends, everyone clinking glasses and celebrating her.

The house was alive with laughter, the air thick with the scent of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. My heart pounded, my chest tightening with each step as I tried to comprehend what I was seeing.

It was like stepping into someone else’s life. A creeping numbness spread through my veins.

They were celebrating her on my wedding anniversary.