I walked to the kitchen, shoulders sagging, heart sinking. I remembered how this day used to be. Roses scattered on the floor. A candlelit dinner he personally prepared. A gift waiting at the end of it all.
This was our anniversary.
But not this year.
This year, he brought another woman. Pregnant with what I could never give him.
I bit my lip, trying to hold it together as I heard them walking in. I signaled the maids to help.
“The beef tapa is for Sasha. She’s been craving it. She’s exhausted. I don’t want to wait for a new order,” Darius said.
Moments later, I heard him pull the chair beside the head of the table. His usual spot. It used to be mine too, right next to him. He would always serve me first.
Now someone else needed serving. That wasn’t me.
I silently placed the dishes in front of them and took a seat at the farthest end of the table. The space between us was filled with food, but the silence was louder.
“Let her eat first, Rosella,” he said.
I blinked, confused.
“There’s plenty of food. Why wait? I’m hungry too,” I answered without emotion.
He glared at me. “She eats first. She’s pregnant.”
“She can’t eat everything, Darius. There’s a lot of food.”