There was nothing else I could do now. She was asleep. Waking her would only make things worse. I’d apologize in the morning. I headed upstairs, loosening my tie fully this time, shrugging out of my jacket as I walked into my bedroom.
I shrugged out of my jacket and tossed it over the chair, unbuttoning my shirt as I moved.
I didn’t notice the shape in my bed.
Didn’t notice the slight rise and fall beneath the duvet.
Didn’t notice the body curled up on my side.
I reached the bathroom and flipped on the light, the brightness stinging my eyes momentarily.
Leaning over the sink, I gripped the counter and looked at my reflection.
“You’re so stupid,” I muttered quietly.
After quickly freshening up, I shut off the bathroom light and walked back into my bedroom, still drying my hands on the edge of the towel. The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that made every small sound feel louder than it should’ve been.
I was halfway to my dresser when I saw her.
Vani.
In my bed.
For a full second, my brain refused to accept it. My body reacted before my mind caught up—my shoulders jerked back, and I took a sharp step away, like she might spring up and accuse me of something just because my eyes had landed on her.
She didn’t move.
She was sprawled across the mattress as if it had been made for her, one leg bent, the other stretched out beneath the sheet. My sheet. Her hair had slipped free from whatever band she wore, curling around her cheek and across the pillow. The bedside lamp was off, but the glow from the hallway cut a pale strip across the bed, outlining her profile and the slow rise and fall of her chest.
I stared for another moment, like staring harder would change the fact that she was there.
I’d asked Maria to put her in one of the guest rooms. And yet, there she was, sprawled out on my bed like it was the most natural thing in the world.
My first instinct was to say her name. To walk over, tap her shoulder, and ask what she was doing. But the moment I took a half-step forward, I stopped myself. She looked too comfortable, too settled. Waking her up felt…wrong. Like I’d be dragging her out of whatever peace she’d found.
And I didn’t have the heart to do that.
I sighed quietly, the sound barely leaving my chest.
I could climb into bed anyway.
But the thought made my stomach tighten. I didn’t want to climb into bed with her and offend her. I didn’t know how she’d react if she woke up and realized I was there, and the last thing I needed was for her to feel like I’d crossed a line.
So I did the only thing that felt remotely safe.
I backed out of my room as quietly as I could, careful not to let the door latch click too loudly. Then I stood in the hallway for a second, looking at the closed door like it had personally betrayed me.
19- Evania
When I got to Callahan’s house and found out that he had my things put into a guest room, I was oddly annoyed.
Maria stood politely at my side as one of the movers emptied the last box in the guest suite. It was a beautiful room- queen-sized bed, soft cream bedding, tall windows that would let in the sound. Anyone else would have been happy and impressed.
The more I stood there looking around, the more irritated I became. It felt intentional. Like he was building a wall before we’d even started, creating unnecessary distance. I refused to let him get away with it.
I was his wife, fake or not.
“Maria,” I said sweetly.
