As she forced a bite of food past the lump in her throat, her gaze drifted past the kitchen, wandering up the shadowed staircase toward the second floor. Toward the two empty, immaculate guest bedrooms.
Our lives are too full, Rose,David had told her gently but firmly three years ago, closing the door on the conversation forever.We travel, we work hard, we have our freedom. I don’t want to share you, and I don’t want to bring a child into a life where we never have time for them.
She had accepted it. She loved him, and she had convinced herself that a thriving career and a devoted husband were enough to build a life on. Most days, she genuinely believed it. The sharp, maternal ache she used to feel had dulled into a quiet, dusty resignation.
But tonight, the emptiness was a physical weight. If not a child, she wished David would at least compromise on a dog. A clumsy, shedding golden mutt whose paws would scuff the perfect hardwood floors. Something warm and breathing to greet her at the door. Something that would look at her with adoration. Just a heartbeat to break the deafening, sterile quiet of a home that felt increasingly like a waiting room.
She chewed the pasta, tasting nothing. After ten minutes of staring at the wall, she stood up. She carried David’s pristine, untouched bowl to the sink and, with a dull scrape of her fork, dumped the beautiful, lovingly made food straight into the trash.
By midnight, the house was dark. Rosália was curled on her side in the center of their massive king-sized bed. The expensive silk sheets were freezing against her skin. She stared at the sliver of moonlight cutting across the floor, driftinginto a light, uneasy sleep, her mind spinning with half-formed anxieties and a pervasive, aching loneliness.
Much later—she didn’t know what time—the subtle dip of the mattress pulled her from the dark.
The room was pitch black. She felt the chill of the night air clinging to David’s skin as he slid under the duvet behind her. He shifted, his chest brushing against her back, and a heavy, lethargic exhaustion weighed down his movements.
Rosália kept her eyes closed, her heart giving a pathetic flutter just to have him near. Her voice was thick and raspy with sleep. “David? What time is it?”
He paused. There was a beat of hesitation in the dark, a tension in his body that she was too tired to decipher. Then, a warm hand settled gently on her hip. He leaned in, pressing a soft, dry kiss to her bare shoulder.
“Go back to sleep, my love,” he whispered into the quiet room. “I love you.”
Chapter 3
Rosália
Saturday morning broke over the city in a wash of pale, icy blue, slipping through the gaps in the heavy blackout curtains.
Rosália woke by degrees, her mind still tethered to the fuzzy edges of a dream. With her eyes still closed, she turned onto her side, her hand instinctively sweeping across the vast expanse of the king-sized mattress, seeking the heavy, familiar warmth of her husband.
Her fingers brushed against smooth, perfectly flat cotton.
She blinked her eyes open, the grogginess instantly evaporating. The bed wasn’t just empty; the sheets on David’s side were ice cold. They hadn’t held a body in hours.
Pushing herself up against the velvet headboard, Rosália frowned into the dim room. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed with a harsh red light:6:43 AM. David was a notoriously late sleeper on the weekends, fiercely guarding his Saturdays after grueling eighty-hour work weeks. For him to be out of bed, let alone out of the room, before the sun had fully risen was entirely out of character.
A quiet, creeping sense of unease bloomed in her chest. Slipping out from under the heavy silk duvet, she wrapped herself in a thick cashmere robe and padded barefoot down the silent, carpeted hallway. The house felt cavernous. It was a stifling, absolute quiet that made the sound of her own pulse beat loudly in her ears.
She checked his home office—dark. The living room—empty.
When she stepped into the kitchen, the chill of the marble floor seeped into the soles of her feet. She turned on the soft under-cabinet lights and went through the mechanical motions of making coffee. The harsh, grinding whir of the espresso machine violently shattered the morning silence. She leaned against the counter, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist.Maybe he couldn’t sleep,she reasoned, watching the dark liquid pull into her porcelain cup.Maybe he went for a run?
Just as she lifted the mug, letting the bitter steam wash over her face, the heavy deadbolt on the kitchen door clicked. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the quiet house.
The door swung open, and David stepped inside.
The moment his eyes landed on her standing by the kitchen island, he froze completely. His hand gripped the doorknob with white-knuckled force, his eyes blowing wide in a flash of pure, unadulterated panic. For a split second, he looked like a man who had just stepped off a ledge—terrified, cornered, and entirely caught off guard.
“David?” Rosália asked, her voice soft but laced with confusion. She lowered her mug. “You startled me.”
He blinked. The sheer terror vanished from his features so quickly she wondered if the morning shadows had played a trick on her. A smooth, practiced smile slid over his face as he pushed the door shut, locking it behind him. He was dressed in his sleek, black athletic gear, a light sheen of sweat on his brow.
“Rose,” he breathed out, his chest heaving as if he had just sprinted the last block. “You’re up early. What are you doing in the kitchen?”
“I woke up and you weren’t in bed,” she said, wrapping both hands around her warm mug to ground herself. “I ended up losing sleep. Where did you go?”
“I... I couldn’t turn my brain off,” he said quickly, walking straight to the sink and turning on the faucet. He didn’t look at her, focusing entirely on filling a glass of water. “The Vanguard merger is spinning in my head. I needed to burn off some of the adrenaline, so I got up and went running.”
Rosália watched him drink. Even disheveled and out of breath, he was undeniably beautiful. The dark, fitted athletic shirt clung perfectly to his broad shoulders, and the morning light caught the sharp angle of his jaw. The phantom panic from a moment ago dissolved into a rush of deep, familiar longing. They had been so disconnected lately, so fractured by the tension of their careers. She just wanted to bridge the agonizing gap between them.
