All night long, sleep eluded me. My eyes stayed open, staring into the darkness as silent tears streamed down my face. The minutes dragged into hours, the hollow ache in my chest intensifying with every passing second. The sky outside began to lighten with the approach of dawn, but there was no relief in its arrival—only a dull, gnawing emptiness where peace used to reside. Every creak of the house seemed to echo the weight of my loneliness.

Then, I heard the familiar sound of the front door clicking open. Finn, thinking he could sneak back in without being noticed, had returned. I dragged myself out of bed, my body heavy with exhaustion and made my way to the hallway. With a quick flick, I turned on the light, the sudden brightness startling him. His eyes darted up, meeting mine for a brief moment before he looked away, his guilt palpable.

“Up so early?” was all he muttered, barely audible as he shuffled inside.

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over my chest, my gaze fixed on him with a cold intensity. “Back to change clothes?” The words fell from my lips, coated in bitterness, each syllable carrying the weight of my disappointment.

Finn’s eyes flickered with something—nervousness, perhaps—before he quickly diverted his attention, mumbling a vague, “Mm.” He toed off his shoes and moved toward me, arms outstretched, his expression softening into a poor imitation of affection. The attempt felt like a mockery.

Without warning, he wrapped himself around me from behind, his breath hot against my neck as he whispered in that familiar, too-smooth voice, “I’m sorry, Honey. I’ve been so busy with work lately. I know I’ve been neglecting you. How are you gonna punish me?” He let his words linger, teasing the air as his lips brushed my skin. His grip tightened around me, his hands roaming, as though he thought he could erase everything with a few empty words and wet kisses. A wave of revulsion swept over me, stronger than I could bear. The feeling of his touch, once comforting, now made my skin crawl. I shoved him away, stepping back with force, the cold distance between us growing palpable. The silence that followed felt like a suffocating shroud.

Finn’s expression froze, his hands hanging awkwardly in the space between us.

“Still mad about last night?” he asked, his voice laced with confusion, as if he couldn’t fathom why I would still be upset. I didn’t bother to answer. I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, speechless. The echo of my footsteps seemed to mock him as I retreated to the sanctuary of the bedroom.

Back in the bedroom, I sat down on the edge of the bed, my hands trembling with anger and disgust. Moments later, I heard him moving about the house, the rustle of fabric as he changed clothes in the cloakroom. Each sound felt like a reminder of the betrayal I had endured.

When Finn reappeared, he was immaculately dressed, his sharp suit tailored to perfection, making him look every bit the successful businessman he pretended to be. His eyes skimmed the room until they landed on me, the slightest hint of discomfort in his gaze.

“There’s a reunion this evening,” he said casually, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt as if nothing had happened between us. “I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up for me.”

I stared at him, my voice cold as ice when I finally spoke. “A reunion and you’re not taking me along?”

For a brief second, Finn faltered. He paused mid-step, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve always hated noisy places,” he said smoothly, his tone too light. “Unless you’ve changed your mind, of course. You can come along if you don’t mind the noise.”

He tilted his head, waiting for my response, his expression full of fake politeness. I met his gaze, unflinching, before slamming the bedroom door shut in his face. The finality of the action reverberated through the house, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake.

Just last month, after Tonia reappeared in our lives, Finn asked me to quit my job and stay at home. He phrased it kindly, saying his income was more than enough to support us, that I didn’t need to exhaust myself anymore. At the time, I thought he was simply being considerate, caring even. But now, in the cold light of everything I had learned, the real reason became painfully clear. He didn’t want me anywhere near the company—near him and Tonia—where I might notice something suspicious. The more I thought about it, the more aggrieved I felt, like the walls of my world were slowly closing in on me.

That evening, unable to suppress my mounting anger and sorrow, I reached out to a classmate and managed to get the address of their so-called "reunion." It wasn’t hard to find—the Midnight Pulse nightclub, a place I’d heard Finn mention in passing. I dressed myself up, a small act of defiance and drove there, my heart pounding in my chest. Room 305. I stood outside the door, my hand hovering just above the doorknob before knocking, each knock resonating with my pent-up frustration.

The door creaked open, revealing Tonia. Her presence was striking, seductive even, her perfectly styled hair and clingy dress all too familiar. She was wrapped around Finn like a second skin, her smile wide and unbothered as she took me in with a cursory glance. The scent of her perfume hit me first—the same scent I had smelled on Finn before—and there it was, the lipstick mark on his collar, confirming everything I had suspected. The sight was a brutal confirmation of my worst fears.

“Oh, hi there,” Tonia said with a sugary tone, her voice dripping with false politeness. She probably didn’t know I was Finn’s wife. “Sorry, but I think you’ve come to the wrong room. This room is booked for a private party.”

Finn stepped forward, his eyes widening in panic. Before I could say anything, he blurted out hastily, “Don’t you hear her? Go away. You’ve got the wrong room.”

My heart sank. It wasn’t the words themselves—it was the cold indifference, the way he slammed the door shut in my face, cutting me off completely. He didn’t even offer an excuse or an apology. I stood frozen for a moment outside that door, unable to move, the weight of betrayal so heavy that I felt crushed beneath it. The world seemed to spin around me, the reality of my shattered trust settling in with cruel finality.

When I got back home, the emptiness swallowed me whole. I collapsed onto the couch, the tears coming in a flood as I cried bitterly for the neglect and injustice I had suffered. I reached for a bottle of red wine that had been stored for a special occasion—ironic, given the day’s events—and uncorked it. I poured myself a glass, then another and another, the liquid doing little to numb the pain. I turned the TV volume up to drown out the deafening silence, but all I could hear were my own thoughts, spinning with images of Finn and Tonia together.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, wallowing in my grief and disappointment, before the door creaked open again. Finn stumbled in, his body reeking of alcohol. He frowned when he saw me, quietly changing his shoes and then settling down beside me on the couch, as if nothing was wrong. The contrast between his demeanor and the pain he had caused was jarring.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, his voice thick with the effects of the night’s drinks. “Most of the people at the party were men and things just got a bit out of hand…”

I kept my eyes on the TV, staring blankly at the screen. My voice was wooden, devoid of any emotion as I responded. “It’s okay. I understand. You all have to curry favor with the boss’s daughter and hope for her help at work.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He blinked, surprised, before quickly nodding in agreement. “Right… exactly. Don’t be angry, though. It was just a social event. There’s nothing between us, I swear.” He reached out, trying to pull me into an embrace, but I moved away, just enough to make it clear I didn’t want him near me.

“Okay,” I muttered, my tone final.

But even as I said the words, my mind replayed the scene from that night—the two of them, entangled in each other’s arms on that hotel bed. Finn had become a stranger to me, someone who lied with ease, as if it had become second nature. I had seen a classmate’s post on social media earlier; the party had ended two hours ago. Yet, here he was, offering more empty words and excuses. What else was he hiding?

Finn went to shower and I heard the faint sound of something falling from his coat pocket. Curious, I picked it up and realized it was a small blue pill, some sort of Viagra. My lips curled into a sneer as I inspected it—he was already taking pills? Was this what it took to keep up with Tonia’s demands? We had only been married for three years, not even close to the so-called seven-year itch, yet the cracks in our relationship were deepening fast, hastened by Tonia’s return.

I was the daughter of the Delacroix Family—a family that ran the most prestigious company in the area. I had grown up with privilege, wealth and pride. Drivers, maids, a sheltered life where I had never needed to lift a finger. He knew very well that I was far more capable than him, both academically and professionally. And yet, I had humbled myself for him, made myself small to fit into his world, becoming the perfect supportive wife. I had stood behind him in every way, even when I could have easily outshone him. My sacrifices seemed to fade into insignificance compared to the betrayal I now faced.

My family had provided everything, yet here I was, cleaning up after him, chasing after his needs like some servant. For what? For him to throw it all back in my face, for him to cheat on me with some girl who had barely entered the workforce?

Tears welled up again as I took another large gulp of wine. My chest ached with a sadness I couldn’t even begin to put into words. The bitterness of the wine did nothing to counteract the bitterness of my reality.

Just one sentence—“Go away. You’ve got the wrong room”—erased everything. All the years, the love, the trust, the sacrifices I had made. Seven years of love, four years of courtship, three years of marriage… all gone in an instant.

This was the man I had given my heart to. Seven years, wasted.

A few minutes later, Finn emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, humming some carefree tune. When he saw me glaring at him, his smile faltered, awkwardly hanging in the air.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

I sneered. “You look like a man in love.”

Finn blinked, taken aback for a moment before forcing a nervous laugh. “What are you talking about? Go take a shower too—you smell of alcohol.”

By the time I was out of the shower and back in the bedroom, Finn was already sprawled across the bed, waiting. As soon as I lay down, he moved to press himself on top of me, his intentions clear.

I pushed him away with more force than I intended, my words sharp and cold. “Aren’t you tired? I don’t want you to exhaust yourself. Just sleep.”

Finn looked stunned, clearly not expecting rejection. For a brief moment, confusion clouded his face, but then he simply deflated, rolling to the side like a balloon losing all its air.

The next morning, as he headed to the bathroom, I dragged myself out of bed, preparing to follow my usual routine. Picking out his clothes had become a habit, one that seemed automatic after years of playing the role of a dutiful wife. But as I opened the wardrobe, something felt off. His clothes were already laid out—bright-colored shirts and flashy ties, nothing like what I would have chosen. Finn had always preferred dark, muted tones. His once staple black and navy suits had been replaced by a sleek silver-gray, a color that softened his usual sharpness.

I stood there, glaring at the outfit, bile rising in my throat. These weren’t my choices. I had built his wardrobe. I had shaped how he presented himself. Now, someone else had slithered in and taken over, piece by piece. Tonia, of course. I clenched my fists. She was already sinking her claws into every part of him.

Instinctively, I reached into the pocket of one of his suits and pulled out a box of blue pills. A sneer tugged at my lips. So this was what it took for him to keep up with her? Every day, just to satisfy Tonia? The disgust simmered in my gut. It didn’t surprise me when he didn’t bother to come home that night or even send a message.

Late into the night, I received a call from Marcie, the maid who had been with the Delacroix Family for as long as I could remember. Her voice was strained as she told me that my father had suffered a heart attack and was in critical condition. He had asked for me—asked for Finn, too.

Panic seized me as I fumbled for my phone, my fingers trembling as I dialed Finn’s number. The phone rang endlessly, each beep gnawing at my nerves, feeding the growing pit of dread in my stomach. Just as I was about to hang up, there was a soft click. The call connected, but no one spoke. The silence was unnerving—until I heard it.

Heavy breathing. Faint, breathless moans. My heart clenched as a woman's voice echoed through the receiver, laced with pleasure.

“Ah, I can't take it anymore. You're just so good, baby!”

Rage surged through me, hot and suffocating, nearly boiling over. I ended the call with a trembling hand, my entire body shaking with fury. Every fiber of my being screamed for release, but there was no time to fall apart. My father was waiting.

I rushed to his side, my heart heavy with grief, arriving just in time to see him before he slipped away. His frail hand gripped mine, his strength fading fast. His eyes, once sharp, were now clouded with pain and disappointment.

“Your husband... where is he? Why didn’t he come with you?" His voice was barely a whisper, each word a struggle.

Through my tears, I forced myself to lie, choking on the words as they left my mouth. “He’s working late, Dad. He couldn’t answer the phone.” My voice cracked under the weight of the falsehood, but I couldn’t bear to tell him the truth.

His eyes darkened, filled with a deep sadness I had never seen before. He squeezed my hand with the last of his strength, his final words piercing through the haze of my grief.

“Finn... is unreliable. You should... divorce him.”

And then he was gone. His hand slipped from mine as I held his lifeless body, the sobs breaking free from my chest in violent waves. I wept until I could hardly breathe. And still, Finn didn’t come.

Hours later, as I sat in the cold, empty hospital room, my phone buzzed. Finn’s name flashed across the screen and for a brief moment, I hoped—stupidly—that he’d finally come to his senses.

“Hey, honey! What’s up?” His voice was casual, as if nothing had happened, as if my world hadn’t just crumbled around me. “Sorry I missed your call—I was so busy with work. If it’s not urgent, I’ll catch up with you later.”

My fingers tightened around the phone, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak. I buried my father alone. I arranged everything—the funeral, the burial, the final goodbyes—while Finn remained absent. During that time, not once did he call, not once did he send a message to check on me. He was as distant as ever, completely detached from the pain he’d caused.

When I finally returned home, the house felt foreign. I noticed things that didn’t belong—a half-empty bottle of wine I never bought, a pair of women’s slippers by the door. Another woman had invaded my life, taken over my place in this house while I had been consumed by grief. Fury surged through me again, bitter and sharp.

I didn’t hesitate. With disgust curling in my chest, I gathered everything that didn’t belong—every trace of her—and threw it all into the trash.

Then I heard Finn humming happily behind the bedroom door, his carefree tune grating against my nerves. The sound of muffled voices reached me before the door creaked open. When he stepped out, Finn wasn’t alone. Tonia trailed behind him, her presence clinging to the air like stale perfume. Both of them froze, startled to find me sitting on the sofa, waiting like a predator watching its prey.

“Nina? I-I didn’t know you were back,” Finn stammered, his voice shaky as he fumbled to regain composure. His eyes darted nervously between me and Tonia, the color draining from his face.

Ignoring him, I let my gaze shift to Tonia. She was wearing a sleek, tight-fitting dress that screamed of attention, her lipstick slightly smudged, but she made no move to fix it. My voice dripped with sarcasm as I spoke, my words sharp and cutting. “Did I surprise you?”

Tonia’s eyes flickered with discomfort. She hesitated for a second, then forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Hi, I’m Tonia. Finn and I work together.” Her tone was too light, too forced. “You must be his wife?”

“Nina,” I said flatly, my lips barely moving as I spat the name out like a bitter pill. I didn’t bother to offer a smile or any pleasantries—there was no need for that anymore.

Finn’s face twisted in awkwardness, his gaze shifting from me to Tonia, then back again, like a man caught in a trap. He tried to explain, words stumbling out of his mouth. “W-we were just heading to meet a client and… Tonia needed to use the bathroom. So, I thought we’d stop by here for a minute.”

Tonia, sensing the tension, quickly nodded, jumping in to back him up. “Yes, exactly! Just a quick stop.” Her voice was high-pitched, strained, as she tried to keep up the facade. “But we should get going now. We’re in a hurry, right?” She threw a glance at Finn, eager to escape.

They turned their backs to me without another word, walking out of the house hand in hand like I was nothing but a shadow in the corner. The door clicked shut behind them and I sat there, watching them go, my hands clenched into fists. The room felt suffocating, every breath a reminder of the betrayal that had long settled between us.

A wave of cold, bitter self-mockery washed over me. I’d given up so much—my pride, my independence—all for him. And here he was, slipping out the door with another woman as if I didn’t even exist.

But now, there was no more doubt. The decision I had been avoiding for so long was suddenly crystal clear. I had finally made up my mind.

After the two of them left, I didn’t waste any time. With cold determination, I began packing my belongings, eager to rid myself of every trace of this toxic life. The apartment, once our shared space, now felt suffocating, tainted by betrayal and lies. As I rummaged through the bedroom, looking for my charger, my hand brushed against something beneath the sheets. I froze, pulling back the duvet to reveal several crumpled, used condoms stuffed under the pillows, like dirty secrets hidden away. My stomach churned in revulsion and I could feel bile rising in my throat.

I forced myself to keep going, but my disgust only deepened when I found a discarded box of blue pills tossed carelessly in the trash can. My hands shook as I picked it up, staring at the box with a mixture of disbelief and nausea. So this is what it takes now? I thought bitterly. I threw it back into the trash with a force that sent the lid clattering to the floor. Feeling utterly revolted, I rushed to the bathroom and scrubbed my hands clean with disinfectant, scrubbing until my skin was red and raw. No amount of soap could wash away the filth I felt clinging to me.

The apartment, now filthy in more ways than one, was no longer mine. With one last look around, I grabbed my suitcase and walked out, leaving that chapter of my life behind without a second glance.

As soon as I stepped into the grand foyer of the Delacroix mansion, my old home, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Finn’s name flashed across the screen and a wave of resentment surged through me. I answered with barely contained irritation.

“Honey, I need your help. It’s urgent!” Finn’s voice sounded panicked, almost desperate, but all I felt was a cold detachment.

“Talk.” I replied, my voice sharp and impatient.

“It’s... Tonia messed up a payment contract for Mr. Hall. She accidentally added an extra zero and now we’re on the hook for ten times the amount—five million! It’s a huge screw-up and even Mr. Hall can’t cover it. The other party is demanding full payment. I remember you’re close with that supplier. Do you think you could talk to them and try to renegotiate?”

I almost laughed at the absurdity. When my dad was dying, Finn couldn’t even bother to answer my call because he was busy having a good time with Tonia. And now? He’s falling over himself, begging for my help because of her mistake. This is the man I wasted seven years on?

I swallowed my anger and replied coldly, “I can help, but you need to come to the old house with me.”

“Great, thanks, Honey! I’ll do whatever you ask, even if it means going to the ends of the earth.” His eagerness was almost pathetic, a sharp contrast to his absence when I truly needed him.

My father’s death had been his regret, a missed opportunity to show up as a son-in-law in his final moments. But for me, this was my chance—my chance to confront him, to make things clear and finalize the divorce. There was no going back now.

After hanging up, I called the supplier myself. He had been an old friend of my father’s and all it took was a simple conversation to settle the matter. The contract was renegotiated, effortlessly handled with one call—something Tonia and Finn couldn’t manage between the two of them.

Later, Finn called me back, his voice filled with relief and excitement. “Honey, you don’t need to worry anymore. Tonia sincerely apologized to the other party and they’ve agreed to renegotiate the contract. Everything’s fine now—Tonia won’t be fired and Mr. Hall won’t have to worry about explaining things to the head office.”

Hearing him speak of Tonia with such warmth, such familiarity, sent a wave of cold bitterness through me. My grip on the phone tightened as I sneered inwardly.

“Good. Come to the old house. I’ll pick you up.” My voice was calm, but underneath, a storm was brewing.

There was a long pause on the other end before Finn hesitated, “Well… honey, I have to work overtime, you see…”

Without another word, I hung up abruptly. Overtime, I thought bitterly. I knew exactly what that meant. I wanted to see if his so-called overtime involved crawling back into Tonia’s bed.

Since it was still work hours, I drove straight to Finn’s company. I stormed into the building, my heart pounding with anger. The receptionist greeted me warmly, unaware of the turmoil raging inside me.

“Ms. Delacroix, it’s been a while. Are you here to see your husband?” she asked, smiling politely.

I nodded curtly, my jaw clenched. Without waiting for further pleasantries, I marched down the familiar halls, heading straight to Finn’s office. The closer I got, the louder the sound of muffled voices became. And then, as I neared the door, I heard it—moaning and groaning from inside. My blood boiled.

Ignoring the startled glances from the passing staff, I kicked the office door open. The scene that greeted me was vile—Tonia was perched on Finn’s lap, her blouse half-unbuttoned and both of them looked like they had been caught mid-act. Tonia shrieked and jumped off Finn’s lap, scrambling to straighten her clothes. Finn, his face flushed with both anger and embarrassment, glared at me.

“Nina, are you crazy? Why didn’t you knock before entering?” he barked, his voice filled with indignation, as if I was the one at fault.

“So this is what you call working late?” I spat, my voice thick with disgust and despair. 

Finn’s face darkened as he closed the door behind him, his posture stiff, his expression hard. He met my gaze coldly, his voice low and venomous. “Since you know now, what do you want to do?”

I took a deep breath, my decision final. “Since you’ve fallen for someone else, I have nothing left to say. Let’s get a divorce.”

Without waiting for his response, I turned on my heel, pulling the door open with a force that rattled the frame and walked out. There was nothing left for me here—nothing but the bitter ashes of a love that had long since burned out.