When I finally managed to force my heavy eyelids open, the first thing I saw was a stark white ceiling.
My entire body throbbed with a deep, crushing ache. The pain was suffocating, but it was nothing compared to the profound emptiness in my abdomen.
I instinctively reached down, my hand finding only flat skin where my swollen belly had been. A hollow ache bloomed in my chest, as if a piece of my soul had been carved away.
"Darling, you're awake!" Justin, who had been keeping vigil by my bedside, shot up, his eyes bloodshot.
I turned my head away. I couldn't bear to look at his deceptively gentle face.
"We couldn't save our child," he said in a low voice, a flicker of sadness in his eyes. "But thank God you're safe. I didn't lose you. Just pull yourself together. When you recover, we can have another baby!"
Bitterness rose in my throat. Was our child just a medical instrument for Cassandra? I shook my head weakly, a dull pain radiating through every nerve.
Justin tried to comfort me, forcing a smile. "You must be starving. Hold on, I'm heading to the record store to grab that limited-edition vinyl you wanted."
I stared into his smiling, gentle eyes, wondering how he could so perfectly conceal his devotion to another woman.
As night fell, he still hadn't returned.
When the nurse came to change my dressing, her eyes were filled with pity. "Has your family been by to see you?"
I took a deep breath and dragged my aching body to the fourth floor.
Through the glass of the VIP ward door, I saw him. Justin was gently placing that same vinyl record onto a player for Cassandra, who lay propped up in bed. His gaze was soft, utterly focused.
Cassandra's face was pale, but she was still arrestingly beautiful.
When she noticed me, she shot me a defiant look, then grabbed Justin's arm, cooing that she wanted to hear the song he wrote for her.
I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms until I drew blood.
Justin picked up a pen. On the sheet music titled "For S," he crossed out the "S" and wrote, "Cassandra's Serenade."
A bitter sting flooded my senses, and tears streamed down my face, hot and unstoppable.
This proud man I had married was now kneeling before her like a devout worshipper. And I was nothing but a pathetic thief, coveting a happiness that had never been mine.
When he turned, with Cassandra in his arms, a flicker of panic crossed his face. He hastily let her go and strode toward me. "Darling, let me explain! Asher's swamped, so he asked me to watch over Cassandra for him."
"Where's my record?" I asked, my voice a hoarse whisper.
He handed me a regular CD, his tone apologetic. "Cassandra said she prefers the sound quality of vinyl, but the content is the same. Give it a try, darling. I'm sure you'll like it!"
Cassandra drifted over, her face pale, her voice soft. "Kayla, I didn't know that was your record. I'm so sorry."
Justin looked at Cassandra's frail form, his eyes swimming with love and pain. I bit my tongue until I tasted blood, forcing down the words I wanted to scream.
"It's okay," I conceded. Did he forget that hearing those tender love songs would only make me weep for the child we lost?
When Cassandra was present, there was no room for anyone else in Justin's world. She was always his first priority.
There was a time I thought his gaze was reserved only for me.
Three years ago, when he rescued me from the waves, soaking wet, he knelt before me, revealing a sparkling ring shaped like a delicate musical note. "Kayla, let me spend the rest of my life composing a symphony just for you."
I remembered the pink diamond bracelet on Cassandra's wrist, the one he'd bought with his first prize money from an international competition.
I still remembered the thrill of watching his acceptance speech on TV. When the host asked for his source of inspiration, he had smiled brightly and replied, "I want to dedicate this to the muse in my heart, who shines as brightly as the stars!"
The audience was captivated. Even my best friend called, teasing me about having such a devoted husband.
But the star in his heart had never been me.
