ANIKA'S POV

One week.

That was how long I stayed in the hospital. There were no visits, no calls, not even a message to check up on me.

I had devoted 4 years into this marriage, poured all my love, my time, and my affection, and in the end, I had come to terms with the fact that the person that I loved the most would never even see my value.

He was occupied with my own sister.

Honestly, I thought I would have felt terrible, more miserable, or even cry some more, but instead, I felt this peaceful emptiness. It was like I had finally just accepted the truth that had been inside of me for years, and now I was finally free.

When I was finally discharged, there was no one there to pick me up, not like I had any expectations. I booked an Uber to take me back home.

The house was empty, untouched, like Simon had not stepped in here for the entire week that I was away, probably spent the entire time with Bree.

I waited for the hurt, waited for the pang of betrayal to pierce my heart, but that feeling of emptiness was still there.

Simon now felt like a stranger to me.

"Madam, you're back."

Martha rushed up to me and engulfed me in a hug. She was the head maid and probably the closest thing to a friend that I had in here.

"How is the baby?" she asked worriedly, and tears welled up in my eyes again.

"I'm so sorry," she said and hugged me tighter.

I allowed her to hold me for a few more minutes, just basking in the warmth before I finally pulled away, wiping my tears.

"Has Simon been home recently?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer to all of that. She shook her head. "No, Madam." I simply nodded my head.

When I got to my room, I began feeling disgust... In the earlier stages of our marriage, I had insisted that our wedding portrait be left in my room. A large picture of him and me on the day we got married, hanging over my bed.

We looked so happy, although now, as I took a closer look at it, I realized that it was only me that was happy.

I treasured it so much, and for years, I had made sure that there was not a single speck of dust on it.... Now, I could not even bear to look at it.

"Martha!" I called out, and she hurried over. "Yes, Madam?"

I pointed to the portrait. "Get rid of it," I said.

Her eyes widened. "But, Madam, you love this portrait," she said.

I gave her a pointed look. "I said throw it away."

She nodded. "Yes, Madam."

And with that, she called the men, and they quickly brought it down. I stared at the empty space where the picture used to be, and I felt nothing.

Later that evening, I was in the living room sipping some chamomile tea while watching some cheesy telenovelas that I could not even tell you the name of when the front door opened, and Simon walked in.

Before, I would be waiting for him at the front door to take his bags and make sure he got changed into comfortable slippers that I had pre-warmed, but now, I did not even look in his direction, just continued watching the movie.

I heard his footsteps walking over to me. "Anika."

"What?"

When I looked up at him, his brows were scrunched up in a mixture of anger and confusion. "I heard you were back, so why were you not waiting for me with warm slippers?"

I stared blankly up at him.

In all the time I had been doing that, he never appreciated it, sometimes he even called me annoying, and now he dared ask me that?

I shrugged. "I won't be doing that for you anymore, Simon," I said simply.

He ran a hand through his hair. "I know you are mad that I did not visit you in the hospital, but I was busy... no need to throw a tantrum," he said.

"Believe what you want," I said.

He looked even more puzzled. Before, I would have apologized, begged, looked for a way to appease him, but now I just did not care.

"What has gotten into you, Anika?" he asked.

I stood up. "If you have nothing more to say, then I am going to my room now."

"Wait." He held my arm before I walked away, and I snatched my hands from him. Then he heaved a sigh and brought out a bracelet from his pocket. "Here, so stop being angry."

The bracelet was cheap, the paint was already chipping off.

A dry laugh came out of my throat. "Is this what you think of me?" I threw the bracelet to the ground. "You're pathetic."

His eyes turned angry. "You ungrateful bitch—"

His phone rang immediately, cutting him off.

It was Bree.

I could see the way his gaze softened once he took her call, a smile settled its way on his face like she could just lighten up his mood with one phone call.

That used to be me.

"Hi, how are you?" he asked immediately.

Her voice was annoyingly loud at the other end. "Thank you so much for the jade bracelet, Simon. It's beautiful."

"I already told you, I will get you anything you want, no need to thank me," he said.

"Umm... I hope Anika takes the freebie and forgives me," her voice was sickeningly sweet.

I scoffed and folded my hands.

He seriously wanted to give me Bree's remains as a gift. He could not even so much as put some thought into his so-called apology gift, just passed me scraps like I was a dog.

I wasn't hurt, not in the slightest. I was fucking livid.

How could he humiliate me like this?

"I will call you soon, okay, Bree. Just take care of yourself before you get sick," he said softly and hung up. He turned to me with a guilty expression. "Anika, it's not.... It was—"

I folded my arms, my face hard and my mind already made up.

"Let's get a divorce."

ANIKA'S POV

"What?"

He said it like he could not believe what I was saying, which, to his credit, was understandable. In his wildest dreams, he had probably never imagined that I would ask for a divorce.

Unfortunately for him, I was no longer the person I used to be.

Now, I could not care less about him.

Simon stared at me like I had just announced that the sky was green, like I had just made the most absurd statement imaginable.

He probably thought I was insane.

After all, I was Anika—the woman who loved him so much it was pathetic.

The same girl who used to follow him around like a lost puppy.

The same girl who begged him to marry her.

The same girl who tolerated every insult, every humiliation, every late night he never explained.

And now, that same girl was asking him for a divorce.

I could practically see the disbelief swirling inside his head.

I watched his face carefully.

Just observing.

Because I knew exactly what he expected.

He was waiting for me to take it back.

To laugh and say I was joking.

To apologize.

To tell him I was being irrational.

I was supposed to beg for his forgiveness like always.

But I didn't.

Instead, I stood there with my arms folded, staring him directly in the eyes as though I had simply stated a fact.

"You can't be serious, Anika," he said.

I hissed before I could stop myself.

"I am dead serious, Simon. I can't keep doing this with you."

The room went still.

Something dark flickered across his face.

Suddenly, he stepped forward and grabbed both my arms.

Hard.

His fingers dug painfully into my skin.

He looked like he was on the verge of losing control.

"What are you even talking about, Anika?" he demanded. "You are my wife."

My arms throbbed under his grip.

I struggled against him.

"Let go of me, Simon. You're hurting me."

He didn't.

So I yanked my arms back as hard as I could until they finally slipped free.

My skin stung where his fingers had been. I rubbed the sore spots gently.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I asked.

He began pacing around the room like a trapped animal.

"You are seriously acting out right now," he muttered. "Is it because of something so trivial that you're doing this?"

For a second, I thought I had heard him wrong.

Trivial.

The word kept repeating itself inside my head like a cruel tune that would probably haunt me forever.

I scoffed, my eyes blazing.

I pointed at myself.

"I lost our child, Simon," I said, my voice trembling with disbelief. "I had a fucking miscarriage, and you're calling it trivial?"

The silence that followed felt heavy.

I thought he would at least pretend to feel remorse.

Even if it was fake.

But there was no sadness.

No guilt.

Nothing.

He just looked irritated.

Then, without warning, he grabbed both my hands.

"If it's about the baby, you don't have to worry," he said calmly. "We can always make more."

Before I could even process his words, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine.

My body froze.

I tried to move, but it was as if my limbs refused to cooperate.

Too many emotions crashed into me at once.

Disgust.

Anger.

Rage.

Everything exploded inside me.

I tried to push him away, but he only deepened the kiss, as though he thought I was playing some stupid game.

As though I was playing hard to get.

Without warning, my teeth sank into his lower lip.

He jerked back immediately.

His hand flew to his mouth.

He wiped at the blood with his thumb and glared at me.

"You—"

Before he could finish the sentence, my hand moved.

The slap echoed through the room.

His head snapped to the side.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

The silence was deafening.

Then he slowly turned back to face me.

"Why the fuck did you slap me?" he demanded.

My chest heaved with anger, and my eyes burned with unshed tears.

"You disgust me."

My words were sharp.

And I meant every single one of them.

The hatred in my voice surprised even me.

Simon stared at me as though he could not recognize the woman standing before him.

"You don't even care that our son is gone," I continued. "How shameless can you be?"

He folded his arms as though none of this mattered.

"I just wanted to spend some time with my wife," he said. "I don't see the problem with that."

I laughed bitterly.

"You're ridiculous. You don't even want me. Go to Bree."

The moment her name left my mouth, he paused.

A smug smile slowly spread across his face, as though he had finally solved a mystery.

"So that's what this is about," he said. "You're jealous of Bree?"

I didn't respond.

"She's your little sister, Anika. Stop being childish."

Still, I remained silent.

He actually thought I was jealous of my sister.

At this point, he could do whatever he wanted.

I wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

The fact that I had asked for a divorce should have made that clear enough.

He smirked.

"You said it yourself. Don't come bitching about it later."

Then he grabbed his keys and walked straight out the door.

I didn't stop him.

I simply stood there and watched him leave.

The house fell silent.

I remained standing there for a long time, staring at the door.

I expected disappointment.

I expected heartbreak.

Instead, that familiar hollow feeling settled in my chest once again.

Later that night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling when my phone buzzed.

Once.

I ignored it.

Twice.

Then a third time.

Frowning, I reached for it.

A message from Bree.

Of course.

My stomach twisted as I opened it.

The first image loaded slowly.

Then the second.

Then the third.

My breath caught in my throat.

Bree was half-naked in bed.

Her hair was messy against the pillow.

The sheets barely covered her body.

And beside her...

Simon.

My husband.

Sleeping peacefully as though nothing in the world was wrong.

But that wasn't even the worst part.

It was the bright red hickey resting on her neck.

Visible.

Obvious.

Practically screaming for my attention.

My fingers began to tremble.

Another message appeared beneath the photos.

Bree: Guess where your husband is tonight?