Chapter 1
Colette lay in bed, just as Matheo had left her twelve hours ago. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t eaten, and barely blinked. It was as if she had lost the will to do anything but breathe. The weight of the impending decision pressed down on her chest, making it hard to draw in a full breath. She loved Matheo dearly and didn't want to leave him, but tonight, if he failed to give her even a glimmer of hope that their marriage could survive, she would have to make the hardest decision of her life.
She lay there, unmoving, wondering what her life would be like without Matheo. Dread clutched at her stomach, twisting it into painful knots. Where would she go? What would she do? He was her only family; she had no one else. Her uncle and aunt had been all too glad to finally get rid of her after she married Matheo right out of college. They wouldn’t take her back now. She felt foolish for ever thinking they might.
It was 9 o'clock at night. Her dry eyes shifted to the clock on the wall, watching the minute hand move faster and faster. That morning, she had begged Matheo to return home early so they could go out somewhere together, alone. He had nodded and dismissed her with the same monotonous tone he used for all her pleas, like the mechanical beep of a machine. Over breakfast, she had asked him again, “Where do you think we should go for dinner?”
“Wherever you want, darling,” he had replied, not even looking at her. She hadn’t kissed him goodbye, a habit she had stopped a month ago. He hadn’t noticed. Sometimes she felt like he wasn’t even aware she was there, except when he wanted sex at night or to show her off at fancy parties as arm candy. At those events, he would charm investors and talk business, always standing next to that damned blonde secretary.
And she had been so foolish, so naive. At 19, having never known love of any kind, she had been desperate for it. Her uncle and aunt provided everything she needed materially but never love or affection. She had been a decorative vase in their grand lives, always on the periphery. When Matheo came into her life, she thought she had found a man who loved her unconditionally. They had been engaged for the shortest two months, during which he showered her with attention, flowers, gifts, and wonderful dates. She believed he loved her. Foolish Colette!
She hadn’t known the real Matheo then. She had only seen what he wanted her to see: the caring, loving, adoring fiancé and the sensual husband who couldn’t stay away from her during their honeymoon. But the honeymoon ended, and the real world encroached. Matheo was a workaholic who seemed to care about nothing but his job. No, that wasn’t entirely true—there was someone else he cared about: his cold, blonde secretary, Iris.
In the early blissful days of their relationship, Colette hadn’t known about Iris. She wasn’t using the word “possessive” lightly. Iris clung to Matheo with a fierceness that made Colette feel like she was the intruder. Sometimes, it seemed Iris was the real wife, attending business meetings, important dinners, and galas with Matheo while Colette was left behind. Colette felt like the other woman, her sole purpose to satisfy Matheo’s desires in bed. He never shared his life outside their home with her, never mentioned his day, who he met, or what he did. He only seemed to care about his work and his secretary.
They had fought countless times about Iris. Colette had begged him to put some distance between them, but he always defended Iris. “She’s my personal assistant of ten years, long before you came into my life!” he had shouted during their last fight. “And she will be here long after you’re gone,” he hadn’t said that, but the meaning was clear. Tears had welled up in Colette’s eyes, and seeing her like that, Matheo muttered something vicious under his breath and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
Even if Iris had stayed within the professional boundaries, Colette might have made peace with it. But Iris was everywhere—weekends, late nights—always there with Matheo. Colette was sick of it, sick of being brushed off as if her feelings didn’t matter. Everything came to a head last night at 3 a.m. when Matheo’s phone rang. It was Iris. A feeling of sickness spread through Colette as she watched her husband answer the call and start packing his things while still talking to Iris.
“Mat, where are you going?” she asked, though she knew it didn’t matter. Wherever he was going, Iris would be there, and she would be left imagining the end of her marriage in their cold, empty bed.
"Brisbane," Matheo muttered without even looking at her as he continued packing his clothes. His bare chest moved rhythmically with each breath, his rare hums barely audible. The phone was still clutched to his ear.
"When will you be back?" Colette asked, her voice tinged with desperation.
Matheo didn't reply, absorbed in his conversation with Iris. He walked into the bathroom to gather his toothbrush and toiletries.
"Matt?" she called out, her frustration mounting.
"What?" came his muffled reply as he packed his shaving kit.
"When will you be back?" she repeated, even more desperate this time.
"Can you shut up for a second?" he snapped. "No, I wasn’t talking to you. Please continue, Iris," he soothed, his tone gentle for the other woman on the line.
Colette stood a few feet away, shocked beyond belief. Her face turned ghostly pale as she realized what had just happened. Her patience snapped. She marched into the bathroom, snatched the phone from his hand, and hurled it across the floor. The screen shattered into countless pieces.
"Colette!" Matheo roared, his face flushing an angry red as he glared at her.
At least he was looking at her now.