Andrius’s expression froze for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected me to agree so easily.
A flicker of panic rose in his chest, and for the first time in days, a trace of guilt surfaced as he remembered his neglect and the harshness of his earlier words.
His tone softened, tentative and almost pleading. “Maxine, I only need a child to appease my father. I know you’ve been wronged all this time. Bear with it a little longer. After Trisha gives birth, I’ll make it up to you.”
I drew a slow, steadying breath, forcing down the nausea that churned in my stomach, and said only, “Alright.”
Without another word, I went upstairs and began packing my luggage.
Since I was leaving, I wouldn’t leave a single trace behind.
Every item in the villa had been chosen by both of us, some even handmade with our own hands.
The ceramic mugs in the cupboard bore our cartoon figures, hand-fired during our newlywed days. Now, a layer of dust lay at the bottom, untouched for a long time, a silent testament to what we once were.
The travel journal lay in the drawer, a relic of promises we once made to explore a new country every year for our “honeymoon.” It held memories of laughter, sunsets, and stolen moments, but it stopped five years ago, abandoned and untouched.
On the bedside table, the faint fragrance of grapes lingered, a trace of a past I could almost reach.
I drifted toward the terrace, remembering how I had once mentioned that as a child, our yard had a grape trellis where my mother would hold me beneath its shade, telling me stories of princes and princesses.
The very next day, Andrius had come home with a truckload of grapevines, and together we built a trellis in the garden.
“If you miss your mother, just sit here. The little grape elves will carry your longing to her.”
Back then, he had seen the quiet ache in my heart and tried to ease it.
Now the garden was covered in Trisha’s favorite lavender. The trellis had been torn down during my five-year coma, never to bear fruit again, never to carry that familiar, comforting fragrance.
Every object decorating this unrecognizable home felt like a jagged blade, slicing into my already shattered, bleeding heart.
I endured the ache, discarding them one by one, packing my things with steady hands, and finally signed the agreement.
As I approached the study door, ambiguous sounds drifted out.
“Andrius, no! Maxine is home!” Trisha’s voice sounded soft and flirtatious, a feigned refusal that twisted my stomach.
Andrius’s lazy drawl floated out, low and possessive. “You tease me, isn’t it, because you want me to take you while Maxine is here?”
“Isn’t that more exciting?”
A sudden, loud cry from Trisha cut through the air. I didn’t need to imagine what had happened next; the sounds alone twisted my stomach. The papers in my hand crumpled slightly from my tightening grip.
Want excitement? Fine.
I stepped back a few paces, letting the sound of my movement echo on purpose.
The noises from the study stopped at once.
I knocked lightly on the half-closed door, then pushed it open with a calm expression.
Andrius’s hand hovered over his buttons, frozen mid-motion, while Trisha stood beside him, both hands pressing down her skirt.
I raised an eyebrow. “Busy?”
His face flickered for a moment, but he quickly regained control. “What is it?”
I held out the documents in my hand. “Sign this.”
“What is that?”
“Property paperwork,” I said evenly, hiding the storm inside. “If you want me to give up this room, then you should compensate me with a house. Reasonable, isn’t it?”
