When I arrived home—our pathtic home—I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. Something was wrong.
The moment I stepped inside, I felt it. The air was heavy. The house, too quiet. Then I heard a soft, mocking laugh from upstairs.
My chest tightened. I followed the sound, my heart pounding. The bedroom door was open.
And there she was. Selena. In my bed. Wearing my wedding ring.
She smirked as she lazily stretched, the silk sheets barely covering her body. “Took you long enough.”
I froze in the doorway. And then… Marco walked out of the bathroom, buttoning his shirt.
My breath caught. He wasn’t even surprised to see me. If anything, he looked amused.
“Like what you see?” he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. “You bastard.”
Selena laughed. “Oh, Olivia, don’t look so heartbroken. Did you really think you were his one and only?”
I ignored her and glared at Marco. “You humiliated me. You accused me of having an affair while you were screwing your mistress in our bed?”
His lips curled into a smirk. “I just sped up the inevitable.”
I shook my head, voice trembling. “How could you do this? After everything we—”
Marco cut me off, his expression turning cold. “You were never meant to be my wife in the first place.”
The words sliced through me like a blade. I felt my body sway.
Selena giggled and held out her hand, admiring my wedding ring on her finger. “I think it suits me better, don’t you?”
I clenched my fists. I wanted to slap that smug look off her face. I wanted to scream, to break something—to break him.
But instead, I took a slow, shaky breath. Then, I walked to the desk, grabbed the divorce papers, and signed my name without hesitation.
I gave them one last look before turning on my heel. I wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not in front of them.
-
For the next three days, I kept a low profile. No one knew where I was, not even my mother. I needed time—to think, to grieve, to gather my strength.
The cemetery was quiet. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the marble tombstones. I knelt in front of Celeste’s grave, my fingers tracing her name on the cold stone.
"Hey, baby," I whispered. "Mommy’s here."
The wind blew gently, rustling the leaves around me. I closed my eyes, feeling the ache in my chest grow.