It wasn't until I heard Dominik's anxious voice behind me that I realized he was home. "Honey, are you okay?"
His footsteps hurried to the bathroom door and when his gaze fell on the blood swirling in the toilet, his face paled. Without waiting for an answer, he crouched beside me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, his touch firm but trembling. "I'm taking you to the hospital now."
I pushed him away, though the movement drained what little strength I had. My voice came out soft but steady. "No, I don't need to go."
"Nadia," he pleaded, his voice cracking, "I was wrong. I can explain everything about Bella. But please, let's go to the hospital first."
I met his gaze, searching for even a flicker of sincerity in the pain etched into his features. But all I saw was urgency—whether for me or his guilt, I couldn't tell.
Using the sink for support, I wobbled to my feet, refusing his outstretched hand. My voice was calm, emotionless. "It's fine. It's just gastritis."
Dominik exhaled a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Ah, okay. If you say so."
But the reprieve was short-lived. As I shuffled toward the bedroom, his footsteps followed me and his voice grew soft with forced reason. "Nadia, I know Bella was out of line, but she's pregnant and going through a lot right now. Her emotions are all over the place. Please try to understand."
I climbed into bed, leaning weakly against the headboard. My hands gripped the blanket tightly, hiding the tremble in my fingers.
Dominik hovered near the edge of the bed, misinterpreting my silence as encouragement to continue. "Look, she was scared. I don't think you meant to frighten her, but you shouldn't have done that to her."
My lips curved into a bitter smile as I lifted my gaze to meet his. "Dominik, am I supposed to sympathize with the mistress carrying my husband's child?" My voice was steady, but each word carried a weight that pressed on the room like a heavy fog.
He flinched. "Nadia, I didn't mean—"
I cut him off, my tone sharper now. "Or do you, like Bella, believe I'm the one who took her place as your wife? That I'm actually the mistress here?"
Dominik ran a hand through his hair, frustration flickering in his eyes. "That's not what I meant," he muttered, his voice strained.
Perhaps realizing how pale I looked, his expression softened. He stepped closer, taking my hand in his and lowered his voice. "Nadia, no one can replace you. I won't divorce you."
He kissed the back of my hand, his lips lingering as though to reassure me. "I know you're upset about Bella's pregnancy, but I did this for your sake. I didn't want you to suffer through the pain of labor."
I stared at him, my chest tightening as he rubbed my hand gently. "You've done so much for me," he continued. "How could I bear to put you through that kind of hardship?"
I let out a dry laugh, the sound hollow in the quiet room. "But you can bear to let Bella go through it?"
Dominik hesitated, then tightened his grip on my fingers. "Bella's in better health than you," he said, his tone almost matter-of-fact. "Her pregnancy has been relatively easy so far. Don't worry. From now on, I'll make sure she doesn't bother you again. You'll always be my wife. Bella and her child will never come between us."
His gaze softened further, his eyes filled with the same tenderness he had shown me in the early days of our relationship. But the warmth that once comforted me now felt hollow, a performance I could no longer believe.
I pulled my hand away from his grasp, the chill of detachment settling over me. Reaching into the bedside drawer, I retrieved a stack of papers and held them out.
"Dominik, I can't accept you having a mistress and a child with another woman. Let's get a divorce."
His reaction was immediate, his eyes flashing red with fury. He snatched the papers from my hand, his knuckles whitening as he tore them into shreds. The pieces fluttered to the floor like ashes, his breath heavy and uneven, as though he were the one who had been betrayed.
***
The next morning, I awoke to the smell of something familiar wafting from the kitchen. When I stepped into the hallway, I saw Dominik standing at the stove, an apron tied neatly around his waist. The sight should have been comforting, but instead, it felt surreal.
He turned toward me, his face lighting up with a warm smile. "Nadia, come have breakfast."
I froze, unable to reconcile his gentle demeanor with the man who had torn the divorce papers apart only hours before. He walked over, pulling me into his arms, his familiar scent enveloping me.
"Nadia, please don't be upset," he murmured, his lips brushing against my hair. "The weather's been lovely lately. How does a staycation at the beach sound?"
His words, so tender and sweet, made my throat tighten. Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes and I swallowed hard to keep them from falling. I nodded wordlessly, too exhausted to resist.
Dominik's face lit up with joy and he kissed my forehead. "Don't worry about a thing. I'll take care of everything."
***
On the day of the trip, I forced myself to endure the nausea and weakness that gripped my body. The sharp pain in my stomach came and went, but I swallowed it down, determined to make it through.
Even though I vomited several times along the way, Dominik stayed by my side, his hand firm on my back as he murmured words of comfort. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to believe that everything might be okay.
I had made up my mind. After this trip, I would tell him the truth about my illness.
Even if the chances were slim, I would fight for treatment. I couldn't deny it—I was too weak to face this alone. I still needed him.
***
The rhythmic sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore lulled me into a deep sleep. But that night, in the small, mosquito-netted bungalow, I awoke to an unsettling emptiness.
My hand instinctively reached out, searching for the warmth of his body beside me. But instead of finding him, my fingers met only the cool, rumpled sheets.
Dominik was gone.
