The fever had taken its toll. I was burning up, my skin flushed and clammy, but Troy insisted on taking care of me, hovering over me as if it would make up for everything he’d done.

He brought me water, checked my temperature every hour, and even tucked me in when I drifted off to sleep. It felt strange, this tender care, but I couldn’t bring myself to trust it. I knew better. I knew the truth, even if he didn’t think I did.

By the third day, the fever had broken. I was exhausted, but I could stand without swaying. The ache in my chest from everything that had happened didn’t fade, but at least the physical pain was gone.

Late that night, I couldn’t sleep. My throat was dry, and I felt the hunger creeping in, so I decided to go downstairs to grab something to eat. The house was quiet, too quiet, as I crept down the stairs, hoping not to wake anyone.

But as I turned the corner into the living room, I stopped dead.

Troy was sitting on the couch, his arm draped over Bianca’s shoulders. She was sleeping, her head resting against his chest, her legs tucked under a blanket. I was about to turn around and go back to my room when I saw it. Troy leaned down and kissed Bianca softly on the lips. My heart stopped.

He pulled away for a second, his voice low, barely audible. “I love you, Bianca. I’ve always loved you. I couldn’t say it before, but you’re the one for me.”

My breath hitched, a wave of cold nausea washing over me. I stepped back into the shadows, too stunned to move, my mind reeling.

I already knew the truth. I’d seen the way he looked at her, the way he took care of her, always defending her, always putting her first. But hearing him say those words—those words that were meant for me, once—cut deeper than I expected.

I fought to stay calm, to breathe through the pain. I wasn’t going to break down again. Not this time. I turned away and made my way back to my room, my mind a whirlwind of anger and heartbreak.

That night, as I lay in bed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. Everything was clearer now. The facade, the pretense, the lie that had been my life with Troy—it all collapsed in that moment. I couldn’t stay here anymore.

I pulled my laptop from the drawer and checked my email. The subject line made my heart race: Your Visa Has Been Approved.

And right beneath it, a message from my lawyer: The Divorce Papers Are Ready.

I stared at the screen, my hands trembling. It was happening. It was finally happening. I could leave. I could escape this nightmare.

I smiled to myself, a genuine smile. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a glimmer of hope.

The next morning, I made a call to my brother. “See you soon,” I whispered, the excitement in my chest blooming. “I’ll be there. I’ll be free.”

But fate had other plans.

As soon as Troy left for work, I started gathering my things. I couldn’t wait any longer. I was leaving today.

But the house felt wrong. The air was thick, and I couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at the pit of my stomach. I had just finished packing a bag when I heard the first crash. The sound of glass breaking echoed from downstairs. My heart leaped into my throat.

I rushed to the window and saw men—thugs, their faces obscured by masks—sneaking through the yard. The alarm system was blaring, but it was too late. They were already inside, and bodyguards were knocked out.

I ran to the door to warn Bianca, but I wasn’t fast enough.

They stormed into the room, grabbing me by the arms and pulling me away from the door. Bianca screamed as she tried to fight them off, but they overpowered her, too. We were trapped.

“Get them both,” one of the men growled, his voice rough.

My head throbbed. My limbs ached. The air stank of gasoline and mildew, and the floor beneath me was rough concrete. When they finally pulled the hood off my head, the sudden brightness stung my eyes.

Beside me, Bianca screamed.

Her voice pierced the air like a siren, high-pitched and panicked. “Where are we?! What do you want from us?!”

We were in some kind of abandoned warehouse—rusted beams, flickering lights overhead, empty crates and coiled wires scattered around. The space was vast but suffocating.

“Shut up!” I snapped at her, my throat dry and voice cracking. “You’re not helping!”

Bianca turned to me, disheveled and wide-eyed. “Thalia, I don’t understand—why are we here? What’s going on?”

I stared at her. “You’re seriously asking that? You’re Troy’s precious little sister—or should I say, wife? You’re always beside him, whispering into his ear. How can you not know anything?”

Her lips parted, shocked. “I don’t know—I swear. I didn’t do anything!”

“Of course you didn’t,” I scoffed bitterly. “You just played your perfect little role while I got shoved into hell.”

Before she could respond, a steel door banged open and two men entered. Tall, masked, with weapons at their sides. One of them sneered, clearly enjoying the fear in our eyes.

“You two need to keep it down. Not that it’ll matter soon,” he muttered.

“What do you want from us?” I demanded, trying to steady my voice even though my legs were trembling.

“This isn’t about you,” the other man said. “This is payment. Someone has to bleed for what Troy did.”

Bianca whimpered beside me. “Please… please, just let us go. We didn’t do anything!”

They ignored her. One of them pulled something from his belt—thin, metallic straps and a rectangular device blinking red.

“What is that?” I whispered, my gut sinking.

They forced us to our knees and began strapping the devices around our waists. When the cold metal locked around me, I knew.

It was a bomb.

“No,” I gasped, trying to jerk away. “No! You can’t do this!”

“Stay still,” one of them barked, gripping my shoulders. “You move, you blow.”

Bianca screamed again. “No, no, no!”

“Cry all you want,” the other said. “After we get the money, you both go boom. Simple.”

They left us in the center of the room, the bombs blinking ominously, the air heavy with doom.

Bianca crawled toward me, sobbing. “What do we do? We’re going to die!”

I clenched my fists. “We’re not dying. Someone’s going to come. He has to.”

But even saying that felt like a lie. I couldn’t count on him anymore.

Minutes dragged into what felt like hours. We tried screaming, yelling, kicking the walls, but no one came.

Suddenly, the door burst open.

Troy.

My heart leapt at the sight of him—sweat on his brow, panic in his eyes. He rushed in, scanning the room.

“Troy!” Bianca shrieked. “Troy, help me!”

He ran to her instantly.

I waited. My mouth opened, but no words came. I watched frozen, as he knelt beside Bianca, his hands trembling as he unlatched the bomb from her waist.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you. I’m sorry. They will not hurt you anymore. I took care of it already.”

And then… nothing. No glance in my direction. No rush to help me.

“Troy,” I croaked, finding my voice. “I’m still—”

But he didn’t look back.

He scooped Bianca into his arms. “Hang on, baby. We’re getting out.”

I was still tied to a bomb. Still shaking. Still pleading.

“Help me! Please!” My voice cracked. “Troy!”

He paused.

He turned his head halfway.

Our eyes met for a split second.

Then he turned away and ran with Bianca in his arms.

The door slammed shut.

My vision blurred. Was it tears? Smoke? I couldn’t tell. The blinking of the bomb was the only thing keeping me grounded.

This was it.

This was the moment I realized—I truly meant nothing to him.

I couldn’t scream anymore. My lungs were raw. I slid to the floor, tears falling silently, and braced for the end.

Seconds passed. Then—an explosion outside. The walls rattled. Gunshots echoed. Chaos.

The door burst open again.

A different man—masked, dressed in black, someone I didn’t recognize—rushed in.

“Hold still!” he shouted.

He knelt beside me and worked fast, unstrapping the bomb, hands steady but hurried. My breath hitched as the blinking stopped.

“You’re safe now,” he muttered. “Stay awake.”

I nodded weakly.

And then, everything faded.

My body ached, my throat was dry, and the sting in my chest was worse than any injury—because I remembered everything.

The bomb. The betrayal. The moment Troy ran… but not for me.

I was in a hospital. Alive. Barely. Saved by a stranger, abandoned by my husband.

The nurse said I’d been unconscious for almost a full day. I had cuts and bruises, but nothing too serious—at least not on the surface. She offered me water. I asked for silence.

There was no point in staying. I waited until the nurse left, then pulled the IV from my arm and stood, dizzy but determined. I grabbed the hospital robe tighter around my body and left the room.

In the hallway, I saw him.

Troy.

He was on a call, his face blank as ever. When he saw me, his eyes widened with surprise—but not relief.

“You’re awake,” he said simply. “Where are you going?”

“Somewhere that’s not here.”

He glanced at his watch. “I have to fly out. Handle a business mess. I’ll bring back something for you.”

That was it. No questions. No apology. No guilt. Just another excuse to run. I couldn’t believe this.

I nodded, even smiled faintly, but inside, something finally broke. Quietly, completely.

I left the hospital and went straight home. The house was exactly as I left it—cold, neat, unloved. I took my time gathering my things, moving slowly, deliberately. I didn’t cry. I’d run out of tears days ago.

Before leaving for the airport, I sent one last message.

To Bianca.

“Meet me.”

She replied within minutes, probably thinking I was coming to beg, to fight, to start another pitiful argument over Troy, but no.

I chose the café near the pier—the one with the wide windows and the sound of the waves crashing just beyond the glass. A place that once felt calming. Today, it just felt final.

“If you’re here to start something, Thalia, I swear—when Troy comes back—”

I cut her off by sliding a small velvet box across the table.

She blinked, confused.

“Open it.”

She did.

Inside was my wedding band.

She frowned. “What is this?”

“Try it on.”

“What—?”

“Just do it.”

Hesitantly, she slipped the ring onto her finger. It fit. Perfectly.

Her face twisted in confusion, but I didn’t let her speak.

“You’ve always wondered why he hesitates with you,” I said, my voice calm, sharp. “You think it’s guilt. You think it’s because of me. But it’s not.”

I leaned forward. “He’s in love with you, Bianca. Not platonically. Not like a brother. Not innocently.”

Her eyes widened.

“There’s a hidden room in the estate. He kept things in there—photos of you, sketches. And also recorded videos of you that he watched every night while pleasuring himself.” I let the weight of my words settle.

She froze.

“That ring? He didn’t have it sized for me. He made it for you. You were always the one. I was the stand-in.”

Bianca went pale. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

“I thought you deserved to know,” I said.

I stood and placed the signed divorce papers in front of her. “Give this to him. Tell him it’s done.”

She stared at the papers, hands shaking. “Where will you go?”

I gave her a smile, small and empty. “Anywhere that’s mine.”

Then I left the café.

I didn’t look back.

The airport smelled of strong coffee and long goodbyes. I wheeled my suitcase toward the gate, my stomach hollow but my mind clear.

While waiting in line at security, I glanced across the terminal.

Troy was there. He wore a black coat, dragging his suitcase, walking toward the VIP lounge.

He didn’t see me. He didn’t even look up.

I didn’t call his name. Didn’t wave. I just watched him pass. He disappeared behind glass doors as if I never existed.

My phone buzzed.

Troy: Just landed. Got you something.

A picture followed—a thin silver bracelet, cheap-looking, no box. A souvenir from the duty-free aisle.

I stared at it for a long second. Then I laughed—soft, bitter, detached.

So that was it. He bought Bianca a necklace worn by royalty once. Of course, I know that the business trip wasn’t business but an auction to get what Bianca wants! And me? A bracelet from the airport.

I opened our thread. Scrolled through the years of messages. Lies. Half-hearted apologies. Silent treatments. Gaslighting wrapped in charm.

I blocked his number.

Then I boarded my plane without looking back.

Because love should not feel like begging to be seen.

And I would never, ever beg again.