I flung the door open without thinking twice about it.
If I let myself consider it for even a second, I wouldn't find the courage to approach them.
A part of me felt that I was being too impulsive and dramatic, two traits that were foreign to me considering all the warnings Rowan had ingrained into me over the years.
I had to learn to live double lives; one where he and I were the poster child for a perfect couple with our wide fake smiles and adorable poses, and another where I was practically invisible to him.
Two pairs of eyes stared back at me and my gaze flicked to Rowan's hands clasped around Camille's. I pushed down a ball of spittle.
"What are you doing here, Maya?" Rowan asked with a frown.
Ignoring his question, I limped to the side of the bed.
"I want to know how you're doing, Camille," I said calmly but Camille recoiled, moving closer to Rowan.
"Please don't come any closer, Maya. What do you want this time?"
I was about to respond when Rowan stood.
"Maya, that's enough. Come with me. Now."
His commanding tone left no room for protest.
I offered a small, tight smile to Camille before limping out.
Out in the hallway, Rowan closed up the space between us, his arms on either side of me, practically caging me.
"What were you thinking coming in there? And why are you limping?"
I could tell he was trying to keep his tone neutral. We were, after all, still the perfect Randalls and the last thing he wanted was for someone to see us exchanging words in public.
"You really think I did that to her?" I asked, not bothering to explain my sprained ankle.
"It's not unlikely. I'm guessing you decided to take your frustrations out on her just because the trip didn't work out," he whisper-shouted, his words making me shake my head.
"What has come over you, Rowan? I would never do such a thing! You wouldn't believe me even if I tried to explain anyway. You're the one who owes me an explanation." My throat tightened while hot tears gathered behind my eyes.
Rowan's eyes widened, then narrowed. "What explanation?" His voice dropped to a dangerous decibel.
"Camille's pregnant," I responded and clenched my chin, praying desperately not to cry in front of him.
"I know that too. What does that have to do with anything…" he paused, going quiet and I watched his eyes slowly narrow. "Hold on, you think I'm responsible for it?"
"There's no need for the pretense, Rowan," I shook my head.
Rowan raised his index finger and repeatedly tapped the side of his forehead.
"Think, Maya. Use your head for once."
To my surprise, there was no trace of guilt or fear on his face.
"So the baby's not yours?" I asked quietly.
"Of course it's not!" Rowan huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose as though I had been blabbering rubbish the whole time. "You're just… exhausting. You keep imagining things and jumping to conclusions because of how insecure you are. You should be really thankful that I tolerate your flaws."
I clenched my fists, not wanting to believe him. There was no way he'd devote so much time and energy for her unless the child was actually his.
"Go back to the room, Maya. We'll talk when you're no longer so sensitive and emotional."
I continued to shake my head. He was making me feel like I was the only one in the wrong here.
"You do know that having a child with her would affect the division of your assets right? People will talk. And they're not going to say nice things about you."
"It's. Not. Mine! For heaven's sake. Stop jumping into conclu…"
The doctor walked out of a door before Rowan could get the rest of his sentence out and as though controlled by a remote, Rowan and I suddenly wore fake smiles on our faces.
"I've written out a prescription for her," he held out a paper to Rowan while I looked away to hide the tear escaping my eyes.
"Like I said, there's only little we can do for her here and she needs to be taken to a hospital for proper check-up."
"Sure, doctor," Rowan smiled to him.
I noticed the doctor's eyes linger on me for a while before he nodded and walked back into his office.
"Is everything alright out there?" Camille asked, her tone soft and filled with concern.
"I need to go." Rowan turned but I held him back.
"I didn't hurt her, Rowan, I swear. It's not just about the trip, it's not about what happened today, it's…"
Rowan's hand suddenly cupped my chin before I could finish the rest of the sentence.
"You're not in the right state of mind right now, Maya. Go back to the room."
His words had a finality to it and I knew it would be pointless to argue.
A humorless laugh escaped my lips as he released my chin.
"Fine, I'll leave now. But from this moment on, we're done. I'm not doing this anymore," I waved my hands between the both of us.
The smirk on his face showed he didn't believe me, and that strengthened my resolve even more.
For the first time in years, I felt completely confident and certain, without a trace of fear.
"I'll meet you in the room soon," he said instead and as he opened the door, I heard Camille's voice.
"Is everything alright? Is she…" the rest of her sentence was swallowed up when the door banged shut in front of me.
I took in a deep breath and smiled bitterly one last time before walking away.
I was done taking any more disrespect from Rowan. If he wanted to be with Camille, so be it.
I knew that my feelings for him had grown over the years but I still had enough dignity to know when my boundaries were being tampered with.
Rather than go back to our room, I moved to the hotel's reception and smiled widely to assure them my limp was just because of a sprained ankle and that I was fine.
Once outside at the parking lot and partially hidden between cars, I decided not to overthink as I took out my phone and dialled the one number I had not had the courage to call for years.
The call was answered barely five seconds later.
"Ethan?"
"Hello there, who am I speaking with please?"
His voice, warm and friendly as always, brought back memories that I had since pushed away from my mind.
"It's Maya," I forced the words out my parched throat while looking around. A limo and a pick up stopped in front of the hotel's entrance and about a dozen bodyguard marched out.
"M-maya?" Ethan stuttered. "From art school? Maya King?"
He remembered.
The thought instantly brought me to tears and I placed a hand over my mouth to silence any noise.
"Maya? Are you alright? What's wrong?"
The concern in his voice did little to stop the tears from pouring down to my fingers.
Noticing that some of the suited guards glanced in my direction as they walked into the hotel, I quickly hid my face and wiped my eyes.
"Send me your location. I'm coming to get you," Ethan ordered, his voice both commanding and calm and just like that, hope flickered within me.