Chapter 5 Chapter 5
Chapter 5
SELENE
The apology felt rehearsed, like he had practiced it on the way home and was just going through the motions., There was no real emotion behind it, or any genuine remorse.
"Thank you," I said quietly, because what else could I say?
He nodded once, as if checking an item off a list and moving on to the next one. "Did you receive the invitation to the gala?"
Of course. That's what this was really about, not that he cared about my feelings, but he was placating me just enough making sure I'd play my part at his grandmother's event. The apology was just for show.
"Yes, I saw it."
"Good." He stood, putting more distance between us, as if sheilding himself from having a guilty conscience over it. "My assistant will contact you tomorrow to arrange a dress fitting. Grandmother wants us there by seven. The event starts at eight, but she'll want photos of the family beforehand, I suggest that we comply with her wishes, I wouldn't want to stress her."
His tone was completely businesslike, as if he were briefing an employee rather than talking to his wife.
"What color should I avoid?" I asked, playing my role. "So I don't clash with Jasmine's dress?"
The words slipped out before I could stop them, sharp and bitter. I saw Derek's jaw tighten as he glanced at me, his eyes filled with something, but I couldn't interpret it.
"Jasmine will be attending as a guest, not family," he said coldly. "What she wears is irrelevant to your choices. All you have to do is show up and play your part, the rest don't matter."
But we both knew that wasn't true. Jasmine's presence at the gala mattered very much—to him, if not to me.
"I'll coordinate with your assistant," I said, retreating back, into a safe zone, not pushing my luck any further.
"Fine." He moved toward his closet, pulling out fresh clothes. "I have work to finish in my study. Don't wait up."
He disappeared into the bathroom, and I heard the shower start moments later. I sat on the bed, staring at my hands, wondering how we'd gotten here. How had I become so invisible to him that he could shower in our bathroom, sleep in our bed, touch me in the darkness, and still treat me like a stranger?
The shower shut off, and Derek emerged dressed in casual clothes, clothes he wore, when he was heading to his home office, to avoid spending time with me. Doing other things that wasn't really work.
"Derek?" I called as he headed for the door.
He paused, not turning around. "Yes?"
"Will Jasmine be at the gala with a date?" The question burned in my throat, but I needed to know. Needed to prepare myself for what I'd have to witness.
He was quiet for a long moment. "I don't know her plans, Selene. You'll have to ask her yourself if you're so concerned."
The dismissal in his tone was clear. He left, closing the door behind him.
I listened to his footsteps descend the stairs, heard the door to his study open and close. Then silence settled over the house like a graveyard.
I should eat something. The baby needed nutrition, even if I had no appetite. But the thought of food made my stomach turn. Instead, I changed into pajamas and crawled back into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin.
My phone buzzed again—another text from Sarah.
Netflix and ice cream tomorrow? I'm working from home.
That sounds perfect, I typed back. At least someone wanted to spend time with me.
I closed my eyes, trying to will myself back to sleep, but my mind wouldn't quiet. The gala loomed in my thoughts, it was going to be a nightmare where I'd have to smile and make small talk and pretend my marriage wasn't crumbling under fake love. Where I'd have to watch Derek and Jasmine orbit each other, their longing and intensity towards each other barely concealed from everyone but his grandmother.
How many more of these events could I endure? My hand moved to my stomach again, that unconscious gesture of protection. "I'm sorry," I whispered to the baby. "I'm so sorry you're being born into this mess."
But even as I apologized, a small seed of determination planted itself in my chest. This baby deserved better. I deserved better. And maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop waiting for Derek to see my worth and start seeing it myself.
The thought was terrifying and liberating all at once.
Downstairs, I heard Derek's voice through the floorboards—muffled but audible. He was on the phone, his tone warmer than it had been with me. I closed my eyes, not wanting to know, not wanting to confirm what I already suspected.
But sleep wouldn't come. And as the hours ticked by, as midnight came and went, I lay awake in the darkness, staring at the ceiling and wondering how much longer I could keep living this lie.
Sleep had abandoned me completely. I'd been lying in bed for hours, listening to the house settle around me, hyperaware of every creak and groan. The clock on the nightstand glowed 2:47 AM, mocking me with each minute that passed.
My throat was dry, parched from crying earlier. I needed water. I needed to move, to do something other than lie here drowning in my thoughts.
I slipped out of bed quietly, though there was no one to disturb. Derek's side remained untouched, the pillows perfectly arranged. He was still in his study, had been there for hours. Working, he'd said. Always working.
The hallway was dark except for the soft glow of nightlights plugged into outlets along the baseboards. I padded down the stairs in bare feet, my hand trailing along the bannister.
I was halfway to the kitchen when I heard his voice.
Derek's study door was ajar, a sliver of warm light spilling into the hallway. I should have kept walking. Should have gotten my water and gone back upstairs. But something in his tone made me stop, made me move closer to that crack of light.