As I explained, her face softened. “Sometimes letting go is the bravest act,” she murmured, patting my hands. “You must walk your own path, Sami.”
I nodded and embraced her tightly. “Thank you.”
Evening came, and I drove home slowly, savoring the quiet. No rush, no need to arrive precisely when Zaldy demanded, no fear of disapproval. In the past, I would have pushed the car to every limit to reach the manor on time; even meals had been rituals, strict rules he enforced to remind me of my “duties.”
I never understood why he clung to these routines when there was no love, no partnership. Perhaps it was for show, proof to the family and household that we were a “proper couple,” though we lived apart, slept apart, existed entirely separate.
But when I entered the manor, my chest tightened.
Gritte, Zaldy’s younger sister, lounged on the couch beside Maria, shopping bags from designer boutiques scattered around them.
“Oh, you’re back,” Gritte sneered, dripping entitlement. “Why so late? We’re hungry. The chef hasn’t prepared anything. Go fix it.”
Her words stung, a reminder of all the thankless labor I had poured into this house. Maria didn’t look at me, fussing over a new handbag as though I were invisible.
Zaldy emerged from the shadows of the hallway, his presence effortless and commanding. “No need to cook Samight. We’ll dine out,” he said smoothly, his voice softening the instant it fell on Maria. “What would you like, Lily?”
Her face lit up. “Steak! The place from college—our favorite.”
Without hesitation, he grabbed the car keys. Watching them together, so naturally at ease, I moved toward the door, hoping to escape witnessing their private reunion.
His voice cut through the room, sharp and controlled. “You’re coming with us. You must be hungry too.”
I paused, keeping my tone steady. “No, thank you. I’m not.”
“That wasn’t a question,” he said, darker now, irritation edging every word.
I exhaled, the weight of his authority pressing down, and relented. “Fine,” I murmured.
In the car, Zaldy and Maria shared the front seat, laughing and reminiscing as if the world existed only for them. I was relegated to the back with Gritte, who kept as much distance as possible, treating me like a stranger.
The city lights blurred past the window while they talked and laughed. Their comfort and connection stabbed at my chest, a sharp reminder of the life I had never truly shared with him.