“Yes?”
He walked further into the room, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable. There was no guilt. No hesitation. Nothing that suggested he had done anything wrong.
“Faye will be staying here for a while,” he said.
The words landed softly, but they echoed loudly in my mind.
“…Here?” I repeated.
“In the packhouse,” he clarified, as if that made it any better. “She’s the ambassador of our company’s platform now. It’s only appropriate that she stays within Foreshadow territory.”
Appropriate. Of course it was.
I stared at him for a moment, searching his face for any sign of awareness.
Any trace of shame. But there was nothing. Not even a flicker.
“You’re fine with that, aren’t you?” he added, tilting his head slightly.
It wasn’t really a question. It never was. I felt something tighten in my chest, but I forced it down.
“I see,” I said quietly. “If that’s your decision.”
His lips curved slightly, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.
“That’s more like it.”
He stepped closer to me, lifting his hand to cup my cheek. His touch was warm, familiar, and yet it felt so foreign now.
“I prefer it when you’re like this,” he murmured. “Not making unnecessary trouble.”
My body remained still under his touch. I didn’t lean into it. I didn’t pull away either. I simply endured it.
“Be good,” he added softly, brushing his thumb against my skin before letting his hand fall.
Then, just like that, he turned and left. As if nothing about this situation was wrong. As if bringing his mistress into our home was something I should simply accept.
The next morning, I found myself standing in front of a door I hadn’t opened in a long time.
My fingers hovered over the handle.
Hesitating.
This room… It was the one place I avoided the most. And yet, it was also the one place I cherished the most. The nursery.
I took a slow breath before pushing the door open. The familiar scent greeted me first.
My gaze softened as I stepped inside.
My chest tightened. I walked further in, my fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the crib.
“I’m here,” I whispered softly.
A habit. A foolish one, perhaps. But it was the only way I knew how to cope.
Even after a year of my miscarriage, the pain hadn’t faded. If anything, it had only settled deeper into my bones.
I closed my eyes briefly.
“Meow.”
I froze. My brows furrowed slightly.
That wasn’t...
“Meow.”
The sound came again. Louder this time.
My eyes snapped open.
“What…?”