Chapter 34

The sleek, modern office was bathed in the warm, golden hues of the sun, its rays painting intricate patterns across the floor-to-ceiling windows. The room exuded a quiet sophistication, every detail meticulously curated to reflect its occupant’s impeccable taste. On Zaviya’s pristine desk, a stack of perfectly arranged papers lay beside her sleek laptop, its screen dimmed but ready for use. An untouched cup of coffee sat nearby, tendrils of steam curling lazily upward, a small testament to the fleeting warmth in an otherwise cold atmosphere.

In the plush swivel chair at the center of it all sat Zaviya, the very picture of elegance. Her navy-blue blazer fit her perfectly, accentuating the sharp lines of her silhouette, while her crisp white blouse added a touch of understated grace. Her posture was flawless—back straight, legs crossed—but the faint tension in her jaw and the way her pen twirled idly between her fingers betrayed the battle raging beneath her polished exterior.

Her gaze drifted out toward the skyline, her deep brown eyes catching the golden glow of the sun. Yet, despite the breathtaking view, they held no light of admiration, only a distant, simmering storm. Her brows furrowed slightly, her lips pressed together, as though she were holding back words she couldn’t afford to let escape.

Two weeks. It had been two relentless, unforgiving weeks since her world had been dull and painful. Life as she knew it had shattered into fragments, and though she’d painstakingly pieced together a mask of indifference, the cracks beneath it were widening. The weight of betrayal pressed heavily on her chest, a wound too deep for time to mend.

She still lived at the mansion in Makati—an arrangement as suffocating as it was unavoidable. Alastair’s presence lingered like an unwanted shadow, a constant reminder of the deceit that had unraveled three years of her life. Gone was the Zaviya who once laughed easily, who extended warmth and tenderness to those she loved. In her place stood someone cold, stoic, and unyielding.

Hatred had taken root in her heart, a fire that burned brighter with each passing day. Alastair had not just betrayed her—she had made her a fool. And no matter how much time passed, Zaviya couldn’t shake the bitterness, the sting of humiliation, or the aching question that haunted her: What did I do to deserve this?

Zaviya's Pov......................

It's been two weeks since I returned from Denmark. I went there to breathe, to clear my mind. The memories still sting, like salt on an open wound. I was devastated when the truth was shoved in my face, undeniable and cruel. I had been fooled and betrayed by the people I loved the most. And at the top of that list? Alastair Michelle Dee. My wife. The woman I once believed was my safe haven. Now, she’s nothing but a selfish jerk to me.

But no matter how much I tried to shake her off, her presence lingered, a ghost that haunted my every thought. And that ghost turned flesh and blood when I saw her for the first time in three months.

It was at Owen’s engagement party. I arrived early, hoping to blend into the background, away from the crowd, away from her. My heart betrayed me when she walked in, stealing the breath from my lungs. Alastair. She wore a black suit with gold designs, looking every bit the handsomely beautiful enigma she always was. Damn it. I hated how effortlessly she could still take my breath away.

I told myself I was over her. That the betrayal and pain were enough to kill whatever was left of my love for her. But my heart, treacherous as it was, hammered loudly in my chest. I clenched my fists. No, Zaviya. Don’t let her see how weak you still are.

The night wore on, and I remained hidden in the shadows, silently observing her. She mingled with Klaud and Gaios, deep in conversation about business deals. Alastair was in her element, commanding the attention of everyone around her. It was infuriating.

And then came Mr. Rotherkim, a familiar face from one of our old business ventures. His question pierced through the air like a dagger.

"Where’s Zaviya? I thought you two were inseparable."

The room seemed to still for a moment. I watched as Alastair stiffened, her usually confident demeanor faltering. Her lips parted, but no words came out. And that was my cue.

I stepped forward, weaving through the crowd with deliberate grace. As I got closer, the familiar scent of vanilla reached her. Her body visibly tensed, and I knew I had her attention. I hooked my arm through hers, feeling her warmth for the first time in months. Her scent, a mix of cedar and something uniquely hers, hit me all at once. Damn it. Stay composed, Zaviya.

I wore an elegant black gown with gold accents, a deliberate choice to match her attire. The gentlemen in the room couldn't hide their admiration, their gazes trailing after me as I approached. But I wasn’t here for them. My eyes locked onto hers.

Alastair froze. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. Klaud and Gaios, on the other hand, couldn’t mask their shock. Their wide eyes and slackened jaws told me everything I needed to know.

"Hello, Mr. Rotherkim," I said, my voice calm and melodic, betraying none of the storm inside me. "Nice to see you again. Apologies for being late to your son’s party. I had some matters to attend to. But, of course, I couldn’t let my beloved wife attend such an elegant event alone."

I leaned in, pressing a kiss to Alastair’s cheek, a gesture that felt like a dagger between us. Her scent, her warmth, everything about her pulled me back into the past, but I wouldn’t let her see it. No, I wouldn’t let her see the broken pieces she left behind.

The room buzzed with whispers, the perfect audience to my performance. If she wanted to act like she didn’t betray me, I could play that game too. After all, two can play at this charade.

The night blurred into fragments—strained smiles, forced greetings, and lingering tension that clung to the air. I hated it. Every second spent in that ballroom felt like a punishment, a cruel reminder of the facade we had to maintain. Alastair was there, of course. Always watching, always too close for comfort. Her Bugatti trailed my Porsche the entire drive home, the distance between our cars mirroring the emotional chasm that had grown between us.

As I pulled into the mansion, the guards, Mang Jhun and Mang Jonas, froze in shock. Their expressions mirrored the chaos inside me, though I didn’t let it show. I never did.

Inside, Nay Celia and Nalin greeted me with a flood of tears and embraces.

“Anak! Zaviya! Bumalik ka na!” Nay Celia cried, her hands trembling as they brushed over my arms, my face, checking if I was real.

“Ate Zaviya, sa wakas you’re here. Kamusta ka na po?” Nalin’s hug was tight, her voice breaking with the kind of longing only a younger sister could have.

I should have felt something—relief, comfort, anything—but all I felt was cold. Their warmth didn’t reach me, and I stood stiff, unmoving, like a statue.

“I’m fine. Thank you,” I replied curtly, stepping away from their grasp. “But let’s not make a habit of this.”

Their joy dimmed, replaced by a hesitant silence. The housekeepers scurried to collect my luggage, their initial smiles replaced by wary glances. I didn’t care. My gaze swept over the living room, landing on the wedding photo that hung in the center.

That damn photo.

My fists clenched as the memory of that day—the lies, the betrayal—came rushing back. I turned away quickly, desperate to escape to my room, but Alastair’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Zavi?”

Her hand on my arm was light, hesitant, as if she knew I could shatter her with a single look.

“Can we talk? Where have you been? I looked for you everywhere. I never stopped—not for a single day.”

I stared at her hand, then up at her face, my expression cold and unyielding. Slowly, she let go, the rejection hitting her harder than my words ever could.

“I told you I needed space,” I said evenly. “I went to Denmark to breathe. I never asked you to look for me, so don’t make it sound like I owe you anything.”

“Zaviya, I’m sorry,” she began, her voice trembling. “I know I’ve made unforgivable mistakes. But please, believe me—I did everything because I love you.”

“Love?” I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and cruel. “You call what you did love? Don’t insult me, Alastair. You destroyed me and dared to call it love.”

Her desperation grew, her voice cracking. “Please, let me explain. I had no choice—I was desperate. I did it for us, for our future. I was trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?” I stepped closer, my voice rising. “Do you think your excuses can undo the three years I lost because of your lies? Can your words bring back the life of our child? Tangina, Alastair, every night I’ve asked myself why. Why did you do it? How could you?”

My anger boiled over, my fists pounding against her chest as my voice broke. “Ginago mo ako! You betrayed me, Alastair! Every single day, you looked me in the eye and lied. How could you wake up knowing you were fooling me?”

She stood there, motionless, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t fight back—she didn’t dare.

When my strength gave out, I collapsed onto the floor, my sobs wracking my body. Alastair knelt beside me, pulling me into a hug despite my protests.

“I’m so sorry, Zaviya,” she whispered, over and over, her voice raw and trembling.

I pushed her away, wiping my tear-streaked face. My voice was cold, cutting. “I didn’t come back for you. I’m here to fulfill my part of the deal, nothing more. Outside, we’ll be the perfect couple everyone expects us to be. But inside? We’re strangers. Whatever we had—it’s over. Do you understand? It’s over.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked away, leaving her kneeling on the floor, her heart shattered into pieces.

For the rest of the week, I kept my distance. The master bedroom was mine, its door forever closed to her. We spoke only when necessary, my words sharp and few. In those moments, I could see the pain in her eyes, but I didn’t care. She deserved it. She deserved to feel the same emptiness she left me with.

And every night, when the house fell silent, I sat alone in the nursery of our unborn child, staring at the empty crib. The ache in my chest was unbearable, but I welcomed it. It was the only thing that reminded me I was still alive.

Two days after Zyair’s proposal to my friend Reika, it was late—9 in the evening—and the silence in the house was deafening. I stood by the door of the master bedroom, the warm steam from my shower still lingering on my skin. My hair dripped lazily onto the floor, strands sticking to my neck as I tightened the sash of my bathrobe. The knocking had stopped, but I could feel the weight of her presence on the other side of the door.

I sighed, irritation bubbling to the surface. Alastair. Her persistence grated on my nerves, yet there was a part of me—small, fragile, and buried deep—that wondered what she could possibly want this time. With a resigned pull, I opened the door.

And there she was.

She froze like a deer caught in headlights, her tall frame looking suddenly unsure. Her hands fidgeted, one clutching a crumpled piece of paper like it was the most important thing in the world. She stared at me, her sharp features softening for a moment, and I hated the way her gaze lingered—as if I was some unattainable star she couldn’t quite reach.

“What do you want?” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. My tone was colder than I intended, but I didn’t care. I wouldn’t let her see the crack in my armor, not tonight.

She shifted awkwardly, her eyes darting to the floor. “I… uh… I wanted to give you this.” She extended the invitation toward me, her fingers trembling ever so slightly.

I raised a brow but took it nonetheless. The weight of her stare was almost suffocating as I skimmed the text. An awards night. Best Young CEO of the Generation. Her name printed in bold, a testament to everything she’d achieved. It should have made me proud. Once upon a time, it would have.

“I’ve been nominated,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. “It’s a… prestigious event. All the major young CEOs will be there. I thought… maybe you’d want to come with me.”

Her words hung in the air, and I found myself staring at the invitation for far too long. She was nervous—her hands fidgeted at her sides, her breath uneven. This was supposed to be a monumental moment for her, and here she was, standing in front of me, asking for something I wasn’t sure I could give.

I handed the invitation back, my expression neutral. “I’ll check my schedule,” I said simply, my voice devoid of emotion. “If I’m free, I’ll let you know.”

Her face fell slightly, though she tried to hide it. “Oh. Okay,” she muttered, her tone hollow. “That’s all I wanted to say. I… I won’t bother you anymore.”

“Good,” I replied, stepping back into the room. “I’d like to rest now.”

I closed the door with a quiet click, leaning against it for a moment as my chest tightened. The muffled sound of her retreating footsteps echoed in the hallway, and I let out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

Why did she still have this effect on me? Why did she still look at me like I was the only thing that mattered when all we had now were the broken pieces of what used to be?

I pushed off the door and walked to the bed, determined not to think about the look on her face when I turned her away. But even as I lay down, pulling the covers over me, her voice lingered in my mind.

"Zavi, I know it’s a lot to ask…"

And somehow, I hated how I wished she’d ask again.

Two days passed and the night felt heavy, and I couldn’t quite pinpoint why. Maybe it was the sight of Alastair stepping out of her car, her striking presence commanding attention without even trying. I hated that about her—the way she made everything seem effortless while I scrambled to keep my walls intact. From the shadows, I watched her straighten her suit, her jaw set in that infuriatingly confident way. Her polished exterior never betrayed the chaos underneath. She was perfect, at least to everyone else.

But I knew better.

I wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. I told myself that over and over again. Yet, as the clock ticked closer to the event, I found myself dressing up, my hands shaky but determined. I knew Alastair would look for me, and the world would, too. The media loved their narrative of the “power couple” we were pretending to be. It was exhausting, playing this game of make-believe. But here I was, gliding past the crowd and slipping into her world like I belonged.

The host’s voice floated toward me, her animated tone grating against my nerves as she interviewed Alastair. I lingered in the distance, watching as the cameras devoured her every move. She wore that tailored white suit like a second skin, exuding charm and elegance that made her untouchable. My throat tightened when they mentioned me—her wife. The words felt foreign, like they belonged to someone else.

And then, without thinking, I made my move.

“I’m sorry, babe. I got stuck in traffic,” I said, my voice steady, though my heart pounded against my ribcage. Sliding my arm through Alastair’s, I leaned in, brushing a kiss to her cheek. It was calculated, like every interaction we’d rehearsed before. But the warmth of her skin against mine was disarming. I hated how it felt real, even if it wasn’t.

Her body stiffened at first, but then she relaxed, the faintest sigh escaping her lips. The host’s excitement doubled, and I could feel the cameras zeroing in on us. I plastered on my most convincing smile, one that hid the tension simmering between us.

“Miss Zaviya, what can you say about your wife’s nomination?”

The words caught me off guard, but I recovered quickly. “As her wife, I’m so proud of her,” I said, my tone light and sincere. “I’ve known Alastair since we were five years old. When she focuses on something, she makes sure she perfects it. She’s so good at what she loves, so I wasn’t shocked at all when I heard she was nominated for this award.”

The lie rolled off my tongue with practiced ease. But as I glanced at her, something inside me shifted. Her expression was unreadable, yet there was a flicker of something raw in her eyes. Vulnerability, perhaps. I pushed the thought aside and tightened my grip on her hand.

The interview wrapped up, and we were ushered into the event. Alastair guided me to our table, her hand lingering at the small of my back. It was for the cameras, of course. Everything was. But my pulse betrayed me, quickening at the subtle touch.

We settled into our seats, and the room buzzed with chatter. Tycoons and moguls filled the space, their smiles wide and their laughter hollow. I felt Alastair lean closer, her voice low enough that only I could hear.

“Zavi, I thought you weren’t going to make it. You didn’t give me your answer when I invited you,” she said, her words hesitant, almost vulnerable.

I turned to her, my smile slipping into something sharper. The warmth I had shown earlier was gone, replaced by the icy demeanor I always wore around her. It was my armor, my way of keeping her at a distance.

“I’m already here. What seems to be the problem, pa?” I replied, my tone clipped.

Her confidence wavered, and for a moment, I saw the cracks in her carefully constructed facade. “Okay, I just thought that maybe you were too busy. I hope my request wasn’t a burden and didn’t take too much of your time.”

I let out a bitter laugh, leaning back in my chair, the memory still fresh in my mind. The image of her, lying next to a naked woman, kept replaying in my head, each time slicing through me like a shard of glass. My heart felt like it was breaking, crushed under the weight of what I had witnessed.

I closed my eyes, fighting the overwhelming urge to scream, to hurt her the way I had been hurt. All the memories flooded back—the betrayal, the confusion, the anger that had built up inside me ever since.

“Oh, come on, Alastair. Don’t even try that with me.” My voice, cold and sharp, echoed in my mind as if I had said it just moments ago. “If I hadn’t come, who would you have brought as your date? Another woman to parade around? Such a womanizer. Manloloko noon, manloloko pa rin hanggang ngayon. Tsk. I told you I wouldn’t let you tarnish my image.”

I could still feel the bitterness in my words, the frustration, and the pain. How could she do that to me? How could she be so careless, so reckless with my heart? She had never been the kind of person who would think of anyone other than herself, and yet, here she was, breaking me apart in the cruelest way.

Even now, as I sat here, I couldn’t shake the image of her with someone else, that ache deep inside me. And I hated myself for still caring.

Her eyes glistened, and for a split second, I felt a pang of guilt. But I shoved it aside, unwilling to let her see that she could still affect me.

“Zavi, it’s not like that. I was just worried about you,” she said softly, her voice trembling.

I scoffed, picking up my wine glass and taking a sip. “Whatever,” I muttered, dismissing her entirely.

The truth was, I hated how easily she got under my skin. I hated the way her presence pulled at something deep within me, something I didn’t want to name. Most of all, I hated that no matter how much I tried to push her away, a part of me always wanted her to stay.

The evening felt stifling, a heavy weight pressing on my chest. Every stolen glance from Alastair across the table seemed like an unspoken plea, but I refused to meet her gaze. I kept my face impassive, my fingers tracing idle patterns on the edge of my wine glass.

Then came the announcement, the host’s voice echoing through the grand hall, listing the nominees for the award everyone coveted. I sat straighter, my expression betraying nothing, but my heart hammered in my chest.

Alastair turned to me, her dark eyes searching mine as if seeking reassurance. Before I could react, she leaned in, her lips brushing softly against my forehead—a gesture so gentle, so intimate, that it sent a ripple of unease down my spine.

I stiffened immediately, my face a mask of cold indifference. She pulled back without a word, her movements slow and deliberate, then rose to walk toward the stage as her name was announced.

The applause that followed was deafening. It was a sound I knew well—a symphony of admiration that had followed Alastair Michelle Dee all her life. I hated how easily it came to her. Hated how the world seemed to bow to her brilliance.

She stood in the spotlight, her tailored suit impeccable, her aura commanding. As the host teased the audience with the unopened envelope, I found my fingers gripping my glass tighter. And then it came: “And the winner is… Alastair Michelle Dee!”

The room erupted again. I joined the applause, my claps measured and precise, careful not to betray the storm of emotions brewing inside me. Pride? Resentment? I couldn’t tell.

Alastair took the stage, the glass trophy in her hands reflecting the bright lights overhead. She began her speech, her voice resonant and laced with raw emotion.

“This award is not just for me but for everyone who believed in my vision…”

I tuned out after a few sentences, my gaze fixed on her. The crowd hung on her every word, their admiration palpable. She was magnetic up there—poised, eloquent, and undeniably powerful. And yet, as her words flowed, her eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on me.

I froze.

Her gaze softened, the polished mask she wore for the world slipping for just a moment. Then came the words that made my breath catch.

“And to my wife, Zaviya…”

The crowd turned to me as if on cue, their eyes full of expectation. My throat tightened as her words washed over me. She spoke of my strength, my patience, my love—things I wasn’t sure I had given her. My heart clenched as her voice cracked, her vulnerability laid bare for all to see.

I swallowed hard, willing myself to stay composed. A single tear escaped, betraying me. I quickly wiped it away, forcing a small, polite smile for the audience. The applause surged again as Alastair concluded her speech, and I stood, making my way to the stage as decorum demanded.

As I reached her, she extended a hand, pulling me closer into a brief, public embrace. The cameras flashed, capturing what the world believed was a perfect moment between a perfect couple. I leaned in, whispering just loud enough for her to hear, “You’re a good actor, Alastair.”

Her grip on me faltered for a split second, but her smile for the cameras remained intact.

The hours dragged on until the event finally ended. I made sure to network, securing more partnerships for my business, while Alastair played the role of the ever-supportive wife. By the time we got into her Rolls Royce, the silence between us was unbearable.

She broke it first. “Zavi, thank you for accompanying me tonight,” she said, her voice soft, tentative.

I turned to her, my expression icy. “Don’t thank me,” I said flatly. “I didn’t do it for you. I used the opportunity to secure more partnerships for my company.”

The words felt cruel even as I said them, but I couldn’t stop myself. Her silence that followed was deafening, the pain in her eyes cutting deeper than I expected. She nodded, her jaw tightening as she focused on the road ahead.

When we reached the mansion, I unbuckled my seatbelt slowly, almost reluctantly. I hesitated before stepping out, turning to look at her one last time. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes… they held a kind of sadness I couldn’t ignore.

“Have a great night,” I said, my voice devoid of warmth.

I stepped out, shutting the door behind me, and walked up the grand staircase leading to the front door. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. Because if I did, I might see the cracks in the walls I’d so carefully built around myself. And I wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

End of Pov...................

The echoes of the past were relentless, like an endless storm raging in Zaviya's mind. No matter how much she tried to shake them off, they clung to her, tormenting her every waking moment. She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to focus on the documents sprawled across her desk. Work had become her refuge, her anchor in a sea of turmoil.

But at 11 in the morning, the fragile wall she had built around herself came crashing down. Her friends—Cass, Yevhen, Reika, Violet, Oliana, and Khali—burst into her office, their arms laden with lunch bags and their faces lit with the kind of warmth she had forgotten she needed.

"Surprise lunch break!" Cass announced, her voice cheerful yet laced with concern.

They settled into her office, the atmosphere light at first. Their chatter filled the room as they shared stories and laughter, but beneath the surface, Zaviya knew her friends were watching her closely.

It was Yevhen who broke the pretense. She set her drink down and leaned forward, her eyes narrowing with curiosity and worry. "Zavi, what’s going on with you and Alastair? I’ve noticed something… different. I asked Cadence, but she just said it wasn’t her story to tell."

The room fell silent. The laughter died in their throats as everyone turned to Zaviya. Cornered, she felt the weight of their concern pressing down on her.

And so, with trembling hands and a voice that cracked with the weight of her pain, Zaviya began to speak. She recounted that night 3 years ago—the night she stumbled upon Alastair, naked and asleep beside another woman. The confrontation that followed was filled with accusations and betrayal. She spoke of the stormy night when she left their mansion, the rain blurring her vision as much as her tears. And then came the accident—a cruel twist of fate that not only took away her memories but also claimed the life of her six-month-old unborn child.

Her voice broke as she revealed the truth: how Alastair had manipulated her for three long years, recreating their past to make her fall in love with her all over again. How her parents had conspired with Alastair, leading her into another arranged marriage without her knowledge of their shared history.

Tears streamed down her friends' faces as they listened. Even Oliana, usually the calmest of them all, was wiping her eyes. None of them had known. They had only believed Zaviya’s accident was a random tragedy. They had no idea about her first arranged marriage in New York, kept so private that even her closest friends were unaware.

"Olga was the one who hinted at the betrayal," Zaviya continued, her voice laced with bitterness. "And when I confronted my parents, they confirmed everything. Alastair wasn’t even here—she was in Sweden for a business conference. When she came back, I confronted her, and the truth came out. That’s when I left. I stayed in Denmark for three months, just trying to breathe again."

Her friends sat in stunned silence, their emotions a chaotic mix of anger, disbelief, and heartbreak. Cass clenched her fists, her voice shaking with fury. "How could Alastair do that? How could your parents do that to you, Zaviya?"

Reika’s face was pale, her eyes fierce with anger. "You deserve so much better than this, Zaviya. You deserve to be free. To be happy."

But Khali interjected softly. "I understand your pain, Zavi. But… do you ever wonder why would Alastair go to such lengths? There has to be a reason. Don’t you think you should talk to her before making any decisions?"

The group divided. Reika, Yevhen, and Cass urged her to sever all ties with Alastair. They believed Zaviya deserved peace, and being alone might be the only way to achieve it. But Khali, Violet, and Oliana pressed her to confront Alastair and hear her side of the story.

Zaviya shook her head, her eyes blazing with determination. "I don’t need her explanations. I want her to feel what I felt. I want her to hurt as much as I did."

Her declaration was met with a heavy silence. Her friends exchanged worried glances.

"Zavi," Violet said gently, "we know you love her. If you go down this path, you might end up hurting yourself more than you hurt her."

"Love?" Zaviya let out a bitter laugh. "I stop loving her. It's a big mistake. That’s weakness. And I won’t be weak again."

But even as she spoke, the tears streaming down her face betrayed her. Her friends saw through her resolve, saw the broken pieces she was trying so hard to hold together.

"Just… be careful," Oliana said softly, her voice trembling. "Revenge has a way of backfiring when your heart is still involved."

Zaviya didn’t respond. She turned her gaze to the window, her vision blurred by tears. She had made her decision. No matter the cost, she would make Alastair pay. But deep down, a small, fragile part of her wondered if her friends were right. If in trying to hurt Alastair, she would end up destroying herself instead.

******************After a week, the car hummed steadily along the road, the faint buzz of the engine filling the otherwise quiet air. Alastair’s hands gripped the wheel tightly, knuckles pale, as her mind wandered back to the storm that had become her life in the past three weeks. She had just left an investor meeting, her body physically drained, but it was the heaviness in her chest that weighed her down the most. Three weeks. Three weeks since Zaviya returned from Denmark, and it felt like a lifetime. Everything had changed.

Gone was the warmth that had once defined their relationship—the laughter, the soft whispers, the shared dreams. In its place was an emptiness, a chasm carved out by words too painful to forget and actions too hurtful to ignore. Zaviya, her beloved wife, had pulled away in ways Alastair hadn’t anticipated. It stung. The betrayal stung. But what hurt the most was how the distance between them seemed to stretch, growing wider with each passing day. Every word exchanged was a dagger wrapped in a smile, every touch now a cold reminder of what once was.

She wasn’t ready to give up, though. Not before, not today. Despite the turmoil tearing her apart, Alastair was determined. She would fight for them—for her wife—for their love. Her heart ached, but it was a pain she was willing to endure if it meant saving the fragile bond they still shared.

Alastair’s car pulled up at the familiar driveway of Reika’s mansion, the sleek gates opening with a soft whir. She parked and waited. She wasn’t early; Zaviya had always been punctual. But the seconds dragged on like minutes, and her mind began to wander again. She sat there, staring blankly at the door, waiting for Zaviya to step outside, to see her, to remind her of the woman she married, not the stranger who had taken her place. She's picking her up cause Zaviya's parents instructed them to go the designer shop to have their gown and suit for Morten's upcoming birthday party.

As she waited, her gaze flickered to the side. There, parked next to her car, was Cadence’s vehicle. Her eyes lingered on the sight of her friend stepping out of the car, a soft smile on her face as she made her way toward the front door. It was clear that Cadence was here to pick up her girlfriend, Yevhen, one of Zaviya’s closest friends. The girls had spent the afternoon inside, catching up, sharing laughter over lunch, their voices mingling like old friends reunited after too long.

Alastair sighed softly, a knot tightening in her stomach. It was so hard to watch from the sidelines, knowing how much her wife still spent time with her friends—people who seemed to understand her, while Alastair felt increasingly alien to the woman she had once known so well.

As Cadence approached, her smile faltered slightly, eyes full of understanding and pity. She didn’t speak immediately, but her gaze was enough. A silent acknowledgment of the hurt Alastair carried, the kind of pain that lingered beneath the surface, impossible to hide.

“I’m sorry, Alastair,” Cadence murmured, her voice soft but sincere as she placed a hand on her shoulder. The weight of her words hung in the air between them, unspoken condolences. "Don’t give up on her. Please. She needs you… even if she doesn’t know it yet."

Alastair felt the tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now. Her throat tightened as she nodded, her voice caught in the whirlwind of emotions choking her.

"I won’t," she said, her voice a fragile whisper, a promise she wasn’t sure she could keep. But she had to. She had to try.

A few moments later, Alastair and Cadence stood rooted to the ground, their bodies stiff as statues, eyes set on the approaching figure of Zaviya. Reika, Cass, and Yevhen followed closely behind her, their footsteps heavy with tension. As Zaviya exited the house, the air grew thick with an unmistakable heaviness. When Yevhen’s gaze fell on Alastair, the fury in her eyes ignited like wildfire. Before anyone could react, she lunged at Alastair and slapped her across the face. The sound of the slap echoed in the quiet surroundings, like a cruel reminder of everything that had gone wrong.

Alastair stood frozen, too stunned to speak. The sting on her cheeks was nothing compared to the ache in her chest. She deserved this. She knew it, felt it in every fiber of her being. It didn’t take much for her to realize that Zaviya had already confided in her friends, shared the painful truth.

Yevhen’s voice was raw with anger and betrayal, her words cutting through the silence like a knife. She cried, her tears mingling with her fury, as she poured out her rage at Alastair's heartless actions. "How could you, Alastair? How could you betray Zaviya like this?" Her voice broke, her chest heaving with emotion. Alastair remained still, her head bowed low, her own heart a tangled mess of guilt. She wanted to say something, to explain, but she knew there was nothing she could say that would make it right.

Cadence, standing to the side, tried to step in, her voice soft but firm, trying to calm the storm that Yevhen had become. “Please, baby, Yevhen. Stop,” she pleaded, but the words fell flat in the face of Yevhen's fury.

“I won’t stop!” Yevhen snapped, turning on her lover with a venomous glare. “Why should I stop, huh, Cadence? It’s her! It’s Alastair, the one who played with Zaviya’s heart like it was nothing. You think I should just let this slide?” Her voice rose with each word, louder and sharper.

"Tarantado tong kaibigan mo! Ginago niya si Zaviya. Manloloko! Such a selfish jerk. Hindi nababagay si Zaviya sayo. Tangina mo, kilig na kilig pa ako sa mga ginagawa mo kay Zaviya pero gago ka!" Yevhen’s voice broke once more, but her words continued to flow, unfiltered. She gave another hard slap to Alastair. "How could you do that to her?"  Her voice was a guttural cry of pain, the kind of anger that only comes from deep betrayal.

Zaviya, walking to her friend, placed a hand on her shoulder, a silent plea for calm. "Yevhen," she whispered softly, "it’s okay, please stop." Her voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the storm brewing around her.

Their friends stood frozen, their faces a mix of disbelief and sorrow. Oliana, Violet, and Khali emerged from the mansion, their expressions mirroring the shock and heartbreak of the moment. None of them could comprehend the hurt they were witnessing. They had never seen Alastair so broken, so vulnerable. She's just looking at her feet willingly accept all Yevhen's wrath.

Zaviya glanced at her friends, and her own heart ached at the sight of their tears, the anguish in their eyes. She couldn't bear to see them like this, but at the same time, she couldn't bring herself to stop Yevhen’s outburst. Alastair deserved it. She deserved every word of anger, every ounce of pain that came her way.

As the weight of the moment settled around them, Alastair's voice cracked, a mixture of guilt and sorrow spilling out. "I’m sorry," she whispered, barely audible. "I created this mess. I’m such a selfish jerk, and all the things you could name. I can’t undo what I’ve done, but please—don’t hate my friends, Zaviya’s parents, or my own. It’s all me. They tried to stop me, but I insisted. I begged them. Sa akin kayo magalit, murahin niyo ako, saktan niyo ako. But please, don’t do that to them. They don’t deserve to be hurt like this. Don’t make them suffer because of me.”

Her voice broke, the emotion too much for her to bear. She wanted to disappear, to erase the pain she had caused, but she knew it was impossible. She was the source of all the hurt.

Zaviya stood still, her expression unreadable, but her heart heavy. She looked at her friends, her gaze pleading. "Please," she said softly, "stop. I’m okay. Don’t hurt her anymore."

Yevhen, still shaking with rage, glared at Alastair one last time before turning on her heel. “The audacity... You really think you can ask us for favors? After everything you’ve done?” Her words dripped with disgust. “I hope Zaviya wakes up and realizes just how much better she deserves than someone like you. I hope she leaves you.” And with that, Yevhen stormed off, slamming the car door so hard that it shook the air around them, leaving an aching silence in her wake.

"Dude I'm sorry for Yevhen's outburst". Cadence said with her worried and apologetic voice and she tap Alastair's shoulder before going after her girlfriend.

Zaviya forced a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. She turned to her friends, bidding them goodbye before walking towards the car. The weight of the world was on her shoulders as she opened the door of Alastair’s car, letting out a tired sigh.

"I'm sorry again" Alastair vows to the girls before turning her back and walk to her car.

Still reeling from the onslaught of anger, Alastair looked at Zaviya, they exchanged no words as she slid into the driver’s seat, the silence between them thick and suffocating. Neither one of them knew how to begin the conversation that had been brewing between them for so long.

The drive began in painful silence. Alastair, her face still flushed from the slap, kept her eyes on the road, her lips bruised from the violence of Yevhen’s fury. Her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white, her whole body tense with the need to hold herself together. But inside, she was unraveling.

Zaviya broke the silence after what seemed like an eternity. "Pull up the car, Alastair," she said, her voice quiet but firm. Alastair, confused but obedient, slowly guided the car to the side of the road. Zaviya glanced at her, then at the bloodstains on her lips and the red marks on her cheeks. She hissed softly, reaching for her handkerchief, her hands trembling slightly as she wiped the blood from Alastair’s face.

Alastair’s heart skipped a beat. She was still stunned by Zaviya’s actions—kindness amid all the chaos. She stared at Zaviya, lost for words, as the woman silently worked to clean the blood from her. The contrast between Zaviya’s gentle touch and the rage that had just unfolded was like a cruel reminder of the pain she had caused.

"I’m sorry for how Yevhen acted earlier," Zaviya murmured, not looking at Alastair. She fiddled nervously with her fingers in her lap, as though trying to find a way to deal with the tension between them.

Alastair shook her head, the words heavy on her tongue. "It’s okay, Zavi. I understand. It’s all my fault. Don’t worry about me. I deserve all of that. Let’s move now. The designer is waiting for us." Her voice was hollow, the façade she tried to put up doing little to mask the devastation inside her. She started the car and maneuvered it back onto the road.

The journey to their destination was one of unbearable silence. Neither of them spoke again, both of them lost in their thoughts. Alastair’s chest was tight with sorrow, her heart aching with every passing second. She had no idea how to fix this, how to repair the damage she had caused. The guilt weighed heavily on her soul, suffocating her from the inside. She was drowning in it, and she didn’t know how to breathe again.

-----------------------Updateeeeeee.

Tissue for  2025. 🎉😅🤧🤧

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