Allison POV:
Gabriel stood frozen, Kaia hovering behind him, her innocent facade wavering. It was a stark contrast to the screaming matches, the hurled accusations, the furious tears that used to define these encounters. My calmness was a weapon, and it unsettled them both.
"Dinner?" Gabriel finally managed, his voice strained. "Allison, what is going on?"
I walked past them, into the kitchen, the scent of fresh bread and simmering stew already filling the air. "What' s going on, Gabriel, is that you' ve finally decided to come home. And Kaia," I glanced over my shoulder, meeting her surprised gaze, "is here. So, we' ll have a meal."
Kaia looked at Gabriel, then back at me, her blonde head tilted. "Mrs. Kaufman, I can just… I can go. I wouldn' t want to intrude."
The politeness was a thin veneer, barely concealing the triumph in her eyes. She thought she had won. They both did.
"Nonsense," I said smoothly, reaching for a third plate. "You' re here now. And Gabriel brought you. He always takes care of his people, doesn' t he, darling?" My eyes flickered to Gabriel. The corner of his mouth twitched, a muscle in his jaw clenching. He was utterly confused. Good.
We sat at the dining table, a bizarre tableau. Gabriel, stiff and silent. Kaia, picking at her food, occasionally glancing at me with a mixture of fear and curiosity. And me, eating with a calm I hadn't felt in years.
"So, Kaia," I said, breaking the strained silence, "Gabriel tells me you' re an incredibly talented junior architect. He' s often praised your eye for detail."
Kaia' s cheeks flushed. "Oh, um, thank you, Mrs. Kaufman. I just try my best."
Gabriel cleared his throat. "Allison, can we talk? Privately?"
I put down my fork. "Is there something you wish to discuss that Kaia shouldn' t hear? Surely, as a valued member of your team, and apparently, your personal life, she should be privy to all important conversations, shouldn' t she?"
His eyes flashed, but he bit back his retort. He was trapped.
"Allison," he said, his voice dropping, a forced tenderness. "About… about everything. I know things have been difficult. And I want to make it right."
"Make what right, Gabriel?" I asked, meeting his gaze. "The years of neglect? The public humiliation? The countless times you chose her over me?"
"I… I didn' t choose her," he stammered. "She' s just… she needed me. And you were so… angry."
Kaia coughed delicately. "Gabriel, maybe we should just leave…"
"No!" Gabriel snapped, then softened his tone for Kaia. "It' s fine, Kaia. Allison just needs to understand." He turned back to me, his gaze pleading. "Allison, you know how much our family means to me. Our shared history. Everything we built."
"Yes, I do," I said, my voice flat. "And what about our future, Gabriel? Is Kaia a part of that too?"
He hesitated, looking from me to Kaia. "Kaia is… she' s an important part of our company' s future. She' s indispensable."
My lips thinned. "I see. Indispensable. So much so that she needs to wear my things now?" My gaze dropped to Kaia' s wrist. She was wearing the delicate pearl bracelet Gabriel had given me on our tenth anniversary. My stomach clenched, but I kept my face impassive.
Kaia' s eyes widened. She quickly tucked her hand under the table. Gabriel' s face went rigid.
"Allison, don' t be ridiculous," he growled. "It' s just a bracelet. Kaia admired it. I offered it to her."
He had offered it to her. The symbol of our decade together. It was a tangible severing.
"Of course," I said, nodding slowly. "How thoughtless of me. She should have it. In fact…" I pushed my chair back and stood up. "There' s a matching necklace. A sentimental piece. Our first Christmas together. Would you like that too, Kaia?" My voice was sweet, but my eyes were ice.
Kaia looked horrified. "No! No, Mrs. Kaufman, I couldn' t possibly…"
"Nonsense," Gabriel cut in, his voice firm, trying to take control. "Allison, if you' re offering, Kaia should accept. It' s a gesture of… goodwill."
I walked to my dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled out the delicate silver chain, the tiny star pendant glinting under the light. Our first Christmas, when we were struggling, building our first small development. That star represented a promise, a dream we shared. Now, it was just a piece of metal.
I walked back to the table, holding it out to Gabriel. His eyes flickered, a hint of something unreadable there. Was it regret? Shame? I watched him take it from my hand. It was an invisible parting, a silent goodbye to a lifetime of memories.
"Thank you, Allison," Gabriel said, his voice surprisingly soft. He handed it to Kaia, who took it as if it were a venomous snake, her face pale.
"You' re… so calm," Gabriel said, his confusion palpable. "I expected… more."
I looked at him, truly looked at him. My past self would have been screaming, crying, begging him to see what he was doing. My past self would have been clawing at him, demanding explanations, tearing down his mistress. But what good had that ever done? It only solidified his narrative that I was the hysterical wife, the inconvenient obstacle.
I remembered the early days. The countless arguments over Kaia. Gabriel' s initial apologies, his promises. "It was a mistake, Allison. A momentary lapse. She means nothing. You' re my wife. My partner." Lies.
He' d slowly, imperceptibly, pulled away. The shared laughter disappeared. The late-night talks became silent voids. He was there, but he wasn' t. He was a ghost, haunting our home, his heart somewhere else. The colder he grew, the harder I fought. I begged, I reasoned, I tried to rekindle the flame that had long since died for him. I became the caricature he painted: the desperate, angry wife.
My mother-in-law, bless her heart, had tried to intervene. She saw through Kaia' s innocent facade. But Kaia was a master manipulator. A few well-timed tears, a story of an overbearing boss, a whispered accusation of my own instability. Gabriel, blinded, always took her side.
My lowest point? The charity gala. I' d walked in, head held high, only to see Gabriel and Kaia on the dance floor, her hand resting on his chest, her eyes adoring. I' d made a scene. A public, humiliating scene. And Gabriel, in a fit of rage, had come home and systematically destroyed my art studio, the one place I found solace. He smashed canvases, ripped paintings, threw my sculptures to the floor.
"This is what you get, Allison!" he' d screamed, his face contorted with fury. "This is what happens when you embarrass me! You think your little hobby matters more than my reputation?"
He called me a selfish bitch, a talentless hack. I' d curled up on the floor amidst the wreckage, shattered more than the pottery. That night, something broke inside me. The fight left. The despair set in.
I retreated, a ghost in my own life. I lost weight. I barely slept. The world became dull, muted. Then, a miracle. A tiny flicker of hope in the darkness. I was pregnant.
A baby. A piece of me, a piece of us. A chance at a new beginning. I clung to that hope, terrified but fiercely protective. I imagined a life where this child would heal us, bring Gabriel back to the man I once loved.
One evening, he brought Kaia home again. She claimed she was feeling unwell, a sudden migraine. Gabriel, ever the White Knight, insisted she stay. I watched them, a silent fury simmering beneath my calm. I brought her tea, a specific blend I knew she preferred. She tasted it, then suddenly clutched her throat, gasping for air.
Panic. Gabriel rushed to her side, his face pale with fear. "What did you do, Allison?!" he yelled, his eyes blazing.
"Nothing!" I cried, genuinely bewildered. "It' s just chamomile tea!"
He didn' t listen. He dragged me to the kitchen, his grip bruising my arm. On the counter was an open packet of peanuts, a snack I sometimes kept for Arnulfo. Kaia was severely allergic to peanuts.
"You tried to poison her!" he accused, his voice shaking with a rage I' d never seen before, even when he destroyed my studio. "You tried to hurt her baby!"
I was stunned. "Her… baby? Gabriel, I swear, I didn' t…"
He didn' t let me finish. He grabbed a handful of peanuts. Before I could react, he shoved them into my mouth, forcing them down my throat. "If she suffers, you suffer too, Allison!" he screamed.
My throat closed. My vision blurred. A searing pain erupted in my abdomen. I collapsed, gasping for air, the world spinning. My last conscious thought was the excruciating cramp, the warm gush between my legs.
When I woke, I was in a hospital bed. The doctor' s face was grim. "I' m so sorry, Mrs. Kaufman. You' ve had a miscarriage."
The words echoed in the sterile room, flat and lifeless. My baby. Our baby. Gone. Because of him. Because of Kaia.
Gabriel came in later, his face strained, a performative sorrow in his eyes. "Allison, I' m so sorry. I didn' t mean for this to happen. I thought… I thought you were trying to hurt Kaia. She said you threatened her child…"
I just stared at him, numb. He left me then, in the sterile white room, the tears finally coming, silent and endless. My body was a battlefield, ravaged and empty. He returned hours later, smelling of Kaia' s perfume, holding a bouquet of white lilies. He sat beside my bed, holding my hand, playing the dutiful husband for the nurses.
"It' s going to be okay, Allison," he whispered, patting my hand. "We' ll get through this."
He then got up, walked to the bathroom, and ran a bath for me. "You need to clean up," he said, his voice flat. He helped me into the tub, the warm water a brief comfort against the searing pain in my heart and body. He left me there, the water slowly cooling around my broken body, just as he had left me in every other way that mattered.
