"I'm sorry I couldn't pick you up, had a crucial meeting today," he said, hugging me, his neck nuzzling against mine, his shirt carrying a faint, unfamiliar perfume.
It was a subtle scent, but my senses were sharp; I caught it immediately.
Lies seemed to flow from him as easily as breathing, without a hint of guilt.
Disgusted, I played along, "It's fine, doesn't matter who picks me up."
He stroked my back, his eyes pretending to be full of sorrow.
Inside, I was seething at his audacity to act so concerned.
"I'm going back to the office tomorrow," I declared.
A flicker of concern crossed his face. "Tomorrow? That soon? Maybe take a little longer to rest."
The recent events had wrung genuine tears from me, mingling with those I forced.
Holding back my emotions, I added, "I need to distract myself, you know... after losing our baby..."
My voice broke, and tears followed, Lucas quickly moved to comfort me, his panic evident.
Too trusting, I had been, especially after handing over the business reins to him post-pregnancy.
As my health waned, I entrusted him with full custody of the company and our finances.
He had everything under control, after all.
Clearly, men can be heartless.