[Danica, I’ve got to meet a client about a project. Won’t be back until tomorrow night. Don’t wait up. Go have fun or whatever you want. If you need anything, call your husband. Love you.]
My fingers tightened around the phone.
A tear slipped down and blurred the word husband on the screen.
He could build the same life twice.
Same house. Same love. Same everything. But he could only belong to one woman.
And it wasn’t me.
Just one wall away, he was with his real wife.
And me? I felt like a dirty secret. Like something hidden in the dark. Like a mistress he couldn’t show the world. My chest hurt, but this time… I didn’t cry.
Not anymore.
It was almost over anyway.
I wiped my face and turned away from the mansion. I didn’t stay. I went home.
And I worked.
I picked up my instruments, both hands stiff but steady enough now, and forced myself to focus. I had only passed the preliminary stage. If I wanted to go further, I had to be better. Stronger. Faster.
Better than everyone else.
Maybe it was everything that had just happened… but decisions started coming to me fast. Sharp. Precise. Like pain had carved something open inside my mind, turning hesitation into instinct.