Chapter 5: Apartment on Willow Lane

The next day, our family bodyguard found out the truth.

He knocked on my door, his face grave. I knew before he spoke that it would be bad news.

"The woman is named Emily Chen, the younger sister of Mr. Nathaniel's old friend. They were close, just the two of them. Three years ago, her brother died saving Nathaniel from an accident."

His words were careful, measured. As if he was trying to soften the blow. I gripped the arm of my chair, knuckles white.

The bodyguard paused, then said carefully, "Maybe he just felt sorry for her. Nathaniel bought her a two-bedroom apartment on Willow Lane."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. I felt my world shift, the ground tilting beneath me.

The room was silent, only the sound of maple leaves outside. I sat in the big chair, trying to hold it together. When I picked up my mug, I realized my hands were shaking so much the mug rattled against the table.

I tried to steady myself, but the tears came anyway—hot and silent. The housekeeper came over, her arms warm and safe.

A two-bedroom apartment. We only had a three-bedroom suite at Willow Court.

The comparison stung. I wondered if Nathaniel had ever thought about that, if he realized what it meant.

The housekeeper took the cup from me. I buried myself in her arms, tears welling up.

She stroked my hair, murmuring soothing words. But nothing could ease the ache inside me.

Before marrying into the Pierce family, my dad and brothers made sure Nathaniel was a good man.

They had grilled Nathaniel over dinner, asked him about his plans and dreams. I remembered how proud my father looked when he shook Nathaniel's hand.

After settling on Nathaniel, my mom did her own digging. The Pierce family had a clean reputation, and Nathaniel's life didn't even have an ex-girlfriend in the picture.

She had always been thorough. Wanting only the best for her only daughter. I felt her love now, fierce and protective, even from miles away.

There was no ex. Only a beloved confidante.

The realization hit me like a punch. I wondered how I could have missed the signs.

Everyone in the Pierce family lied to me, treated me like a fool.

The thought made me angry. Then numb. I wondered if they pitied me, or if they thought I would never find out.

Nathaniel still returned late that night.

The house was quiet, the clock ticking in the hallway. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the sound of his footsteps.

The porch light I'd left on for him was turned off. By the time he entered the room, I was already asleep.

I kept my back to him, pretending to sleep. I heard him sigh, then slip under the covers, careful not to touch me.

When Nathaniel got into bed, his voice sounded tired. "What's wrong today? Still not feeling well?"

His voice was soft, almost pleading. I kept my eyes closed, willing him to go away.

I sat up and looked at him in the soft light from the window.

The moonlight cast strange shadows on his face, making him look older, sadder.

Nathaniel looked confused by my stare. He came forward to hug me, and just as he was about to kiss me, I gently blocked him with my hand.

He froze. Hurt flickered in his eyes. I wondered if he would fight for me, or if he would just give up.

"What's wrong?" Nathaniel tried to comfort me. "Is it because I've been coming home late?"

He reached for my hand. I pulled away, unable to meet his gaze.

I stayed silent. He sighed helplessly. "It's my fault. Work is busy, I truly have no choice."

His excuses sounded hollow. Rehearsed. I wondered if he believed them himself.

"Is it really work?" I smiled. "Nathaniel, isn't it exhausting, running between Willow Lane and here?"

My words were calm, almost gentle. But inside, I was screaming.

Nathaniel's smile faded bit by bit. He held my hand. "Is it worth all this, over something so small?"

He sounded tired, annoyed. I wondered if he realized how much he was asking of me.

As if it were only natural, unconcerned, Nathaniel tapped my nose. "A proper lady like you, getting jealous over a mistress?"

The words stung. I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing.

My fingertips grew cold. I stared at him blankly, as if I never knew him before.

He looked back at me, his expression hardening. I wondered if he saw the pain in my eyes, or if he just didn't care.

"How silly, to be angry over this." Nathaniel softened. "Emily is all alone, she can't compare to you. Why get upset over her?"

His words were meant to comfort. But they only made things worse. I felt like I was being erased, bit by bit.

My nose burned, my chest tight and bitter. At that moment, I felt a great absurdity.

I almost laughed, the situation so ridiculous it barely felt real.

The pain of betrayal burned through me. He was my husband, the man I loved. Those sweet days after the wedding had made me foolish. I thought fidelity went both ways. I was naive.

I realized then. How little I knew about love, about marriage. I wondered if anyone ever really knew.

Right. He's a man.

I repeated the words in my head, as if they could explain everything.

A man can have his secrets, his affairs—that's just how it is, right?

I thought of all the stories I'd heard growing up, of wives who looked the other way. Who smiled through their pain. I wondered if I was destined to become one of them.

Tears made my cheeks go cold.

I wiped them away, ashamed of my weakness.

I pushed Nathaniel away. "I'm not well today. Please sleep in the other room."

My voice was steady. But inside I was shaking.

"I've bent over backwards, and you're still sulking." Nathaniel frowned. "Jealous over a mistress—don't you have any pride as a wife?"

His words were sharp, cutting. I wondered if he would ever see me as an equal, as someone worth fighting for.

It felt like someone yanked the knife out of my heart. I stared at him for a few seconds, as if the gentle man who called me Lila-belle on our wedding night was a different person.

The man I loved was gone. Replaced by a stranger.

"I never had much pride, and the floral scent on you makes me want to vomit."

The words surprised even me. Nathaniel's eyes widened, shock and anger flickering across his face.

Nathaniel's eyes went hard. He swallowed his anger and said coldly, "The husband is supposed to lead the house. Jealousy isn't the mark of a good wife."

His voice was cold, final. I turned away, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

I turned my back to him.

Nathaniel tossed his suit jacket aside and left. "You're just being unreasonable."

The sound of the door closing echoed through the house. I lay in the darkness, tears soaking my pillow, wondering if I would ever feel whole again.

The beaded curtain swayed. The lights flickered. I closed my eyes, and bitter tears soaked my pillow.

The house was silent, except for the distant sound of the wind in the maples. I drifted into a restless sleep, haunted by dreams of what could have been.