He brought me water, checked my temperature every hour, and even tucked me in when I drifted off to sleep. It felt strange, this tender care, but I couldn’t bring myself to trust it. I knew better. I knew the truth, even if he didn’t think I did.
By the third day, the fever had broken. I was exhausted, but I could stand without swaying. The ache in my chest from everything that had happened didn’t fade, but at least the physical pain was gone.
Late that night, I couldn’t sleep. My throat was dry, and I felt the hunger creeping in, so I decided to go downstairs to grab something to eat. The house was quiet, too quiet, as I crept down the stairs, hoping not to wake anyone.
But as I turned the corner into the living room, I stopped dead.
Troy was sitting on the couch, his arm draped over Bianca’s shoulders. She was sleeping, her head resting against his chest, her legs tucked under a blanket. I was about to turn around and go back to my room when I saw it. Troy leaned down and kissed Bianca softly on the lips. My heart stopped.
He pulled away for a second, his voice low, barely audible. “I love you, Bianca. I’ve always loved you. I couldn’t say it before, but you’re the one for me.”
My breath hitched, a wave of cold nausea washing over me. I stepped back into the shadows, too stunned to move, my mind reeling.
I already knew the truth. I’d seen the way he looked at her, the way he took care of her, always defending her, always putting her first. But hearing him say those words—those words that were meant for me, once—cut deeper than I expected.
I fought to stay calm, to breathe through the pain. I wasn’t going to break down again. Not this time. I turned away and made my way back to my room, my mind a whirlwind of anger and heartbreak.
That night, as I lay in bed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. Everything was clearer now. The facade, the pretense, the lie that had been my life with Troy—it all collapsed in that moment. I couldn’t stay here anymore.
I pulled my laptop from the drawer and checked my email. The subject line made my heart race: Your Visa Has Been Approved.
And right beneath it, a message from my lawyer: The Divorce Papers Are Ready.
I stared at the screen, my hands trembling. It was happening. It was finally happening. I could leave. I could escape this nightmare.