The heavy oak doors of the penthouse swung open with a soft click, but the silence Mia expected wasn't there. Instead, the air felt thick, charged with a betrayal she had sensed coming but had refused to name.
She walked toward the living area, her heels clicking rhythmically against the marble floor a sound that usually commanded respect in the boardroom, but here, it felt like a countdown. As she rounded the corner, the sight hit her like a physical blow. Peter and Tessa were together on the sofa, lost in a moment of intimacy that Peter hadn't shown Mia in months.
The betrayal wasn't just in the act; it was the ease of it. They looked like they belonged together, while Mia felt like an intruder in her own home.
Peter looked up, his eyes widening as he realized Mia was standing there. He didn't scramble or apologize immediately; instead, there was a flash of guilt quickly replaced by a cold, defensive mask.
"Mia," he said, his voice steady but hollow. "You weren't supposed to be home for another hour."
"In our home, Peter?" Mia's voice was a whisper, sharp and trembling. "You brought her here? To the life we built? To the company we run together?"
Tessa stood up, smoothing her hair with a look that wasn't quite apologetic it was triumphant. She didn't say a word, but she didn't have to. The silence in the room confirmed everything Mia feared: the arranged marriage, the business partnership, the years of trying to win him over it was all crumbling.
Mia didn't cry. Instead, she felt a coldness settle over her. She turned her back on them, her mind already racing toward the grandmother's birthday party. She realized then that trying to be the "perfect wife" wasn't working. If Peter wanted to live in the past with his first love, she would stop fighting for a seat at a table where she wasn't wanted.
She thought of the dress she had bought for the party. She thought that if she dress pretty, if she made him jealous maybe he would love her again.