I couldn't take it anymore. The house felt like it was closing in around me, with Sarai's presence suffocating every corner of what had once been my sanctuary. Three days of watching her parade around in my clothes, use my things, and flaunt her pregnancy while Malachi did nothing to stop her.
I found him in his study, hunched over his laptop, his brow furrowed in concentration. Without knocking, I pushed the door open.
"We need to talk," I said, my voice stronger than I expected.
Malachi looked up, irritation flashing across his face before he masked it with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Johanna, I'm in the middle of something important."
"This can't wait." I closed the door behind me and leaned against it. "You need to choose, Malachi. Either Sarai leaves, or I do."
He sighed, setting down his pen. "Don't be dramatic."
"Dramatic?" I stepped closer, my hands trembling. "She's wearing my clothes, using my things, and you're letting her. She's pregnant with your child, and you've moved her into our home."
Malachi stood, running a hand through his hair—a gesture I once found endearing but now recognized as a sign of his discomfort. "It's not that simple."
"Actually, it is." I planted my palms on his desk and leaned forward. "Choose. Me or her."
He was silent for a long moment, his eyes not quite meeting mine. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold in a way I'd never heard before.
"My mother made it clear what my duty is to the Stone family." He straightened his tie, a nervous tic I'd noticed whenever he was about to deliver bad news. "Producing an heir is my responsibility. The bloodline must continue."
"And I wasn't good enough for that?" The words felt like glass in my throat.
"It's not about good enough." His tone softened slightly, but his eyes remained distant. "I do still love you, Johanna. But I can't abandon my responsibilities to the Stone name."
Before I could respond, the doorbell rang. Malachi's expression shifted to something unreadable.
"That'll be Mother," he said, moving toward the door.
---
Mrs. Stone swept into our home like a queen inspecting her territory. Her gaze skimmed over me dismissively before settling on Sarai with calculated warmth.
"Darling girl," she cooed, taking Sarai's hands in hers. "How are you feeling? Have you been to Dr. Whitmore yet?"
"Yesterday," Sarai replied, her voice honey-sweet. "He says everything looks perfect."
"Excellent." Mrs. Stone's smile was radiant. "Strong Stone genes. That's what matters."
I stood silently in the corner of our living room as they discussed nursery colors and baby names as if I weren't there. Mrs. Stone's voice carried clearly to me, each word a deliberate jab.
"We'll need to prepare the east wing," she said to Sarai. "It has the best light for a child. None of that modern nonsense about keeping the nursery dark."
"Of course," Sarai agreed. "Whatever you think is best."
Mrs. Stone's eyes flicked to me momentarily. "Unlike some... genetic imperfections, a Stone heir needs the proper environment to thrive."
The implication hung in the air like poison. My deafness. My "imperfection." The reason I was never truly accepted into this family.
---
I spent hours preparing for tonight. Candles. Roses. The small jazz ensemble that had played at our wedding. I wore the blue dress Malachi had once said brought out the silver in my eyes.
"Remember our first date?" I asked when he came home, my heart pounding as I gestured to the dining room transformed with candles and our wedding song playing softly in the background.
Malachi's expression softened as he took in the scene. For a moment, I saw a glimpse of the man I'd fallen in love with.
"Of course I do," he said, stepping closer.
Hope fluttered in my chest. Maybe this could work. Maybe we could find our way back to each other.
Then his phone rang.
Sarai's name flashed on the screen. His eyes met mine apologetically.
"I need to take this," he said.
"Malachi, please—"
"It's important." He answered the call, turning away from me. "Sarai? What's wrong?"
I watched his face drain of color as he listened.
"Complications? How bad?... Hold on, I'm coming right now."
He pocketed his phone, already moving toward the door. "I'm sorry, Johanna. Sarai's having some complications with the pregnancy. I need to go to her."
"But—" I gestured helplessly at our romantic setup.
"We'll reschedule," he said, not meeting my eyes as he grabbed his keys.
The door closed behind him with a soft click that echoed through my heart.
I stood alone among the flickering candles and wilting roses, the music playing on, a mockery of what should have been a night of reconciliation.
The untouched dinner grew cold on the table as I sank into a chair, wondering if there was anything left of us to save.
