Chapter57
Leona
As our gazes met, the depths of his eyes revealed the torment that ravaged his soul. The guilt and shame that darkened his irises transported me back to that fateful night, the night that shattered our world and left our relationship in ruins. The memories of its devastating impact still lingered, at festering wound that refused to heal, and I felt the familiar ache within me.
His hushed tones hinted at unseen dangers, threatening to unravel the weak threads of our fragile reconciliation. The prospect of another betrayal, another shattering heartbreak, sent tremors. through my veins. Yet, I yearned to trust him, to grasp onto the hope that this wasn’t a precursor to catastrophe. We were doing this for Willy, weren’t we? Finding solace in our shared purpose, I clung to the notion that our joint endeavor to save our daughter would be the pillar that held us
steady.
His pause hung like a held breath, his gaze piercing mine with the intensity of a final farewell. It was as if he beheld a fleeting glimpse of something precious, slipping irretrievably away. Our marriage teetered on the precipice, its fragile pulse weakening by the second. I desperately willed my instincts to be wrong, for him to prove me mistaken. Silently, I implored the universe to spare me from the impending blow, my inner pleas a frantic refrain: Let it not be worse, let us have left the darkness behind, haven’t we endured enough.
His face was a battleground, with turmoil etched across every feature. A silent struggle raged within, as if opposing forces clashed for dominance. But I was at the breaking point, my frayed trust dangling by a threadbare strand. The rope that had suspended my faith for so long now threatened to snap, leaving me plummeting into the abyss. I knew he was a good man, a devoted father to Willy, but the title of faithful husband – once his to claim with ease – had become an unattainable luxury. In this moment, even the possibility seemed an unbridgeable distance, a horizon I feared he might never reach again.
“Wilson?” I called my voice a gentle but fearing prod, and he jerked back to the present, his gaze refocusing on mine like a lens snapping into place. The distant look in his eyes cleared, as if he’d
steeled himself for what was to come.
Wilson’s Adam’s apple bobbed in a hard swallow, as if the words themselves were shards of broken glass. “Do–do you remember the night I cracked the biggest deal for the company?” he asked with hesitation. I nodded, my curiosity piqued, and he continued, his words dripping with reluctance.
A violent shiver coursed through Wilson’s frame, his jaw clenched in a rigid line. The tension in his body was apparent and my own fear spiked, sensing the depth of his turmoil. His struggle was a living, breathing thing, and I felt its dark presence closing in around us. My mind raced with dreadful possibilities: How bad could it be? What secrets had he kept hidden? The uncertainty twisted my insides into knots.
“That night, I–I was too drunk, and I–I…” He trailed off, but my imagination sprinted forward,
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conjuring nightmare scenarios. I recoiled, my heart racing like a trapped animal.
Questions swirled inside me with dizzying speed, each one more grotesque than the last. Did he surrender to Alenia’s seduction in a drunken haze? Was she carrying his child? Had he succumbed to a fleeting obsession? Or was it a prolonged, hidden affair? Every possibility seemed to rot before my eyes, its ugliness festering like an open wound.
“I kissed her first.” The confession escaped his lips with haste, as if the admission scorched his tongue. The revelation seared my already battered heart, the tender flesh around the wound throbbing with renewed pain. My resolve to stay strong for Willy trembled, threatened by the anguish welling up inside me. The memory of our daughter’s fragile smile flashed through my mind, a stinging reminder of why I’d tolerated the unbearable thus far.
I should have been desensitized to the pain by now, but this revelation hits deeper with each passing moment. Instead of steeling myself against the hurt, I felt like I’d been drenched in icy water, my senses numbing in slow, agonizing increments. The lies, hidden truths, and unbridgeable distance between us congealed, forming a frost that encased my heart. Each beat grew heavier, slower, and I couldn’t help but wonder: would I ever thaw from this glacial grip of
sorrow?
“How far did you go?” I forced out the words, my tone flat and detached, a fragile shield against the anguish threatening to consume me.
The question hung in the air, its implications slicing through the silence like a scalpel. Wilson’s gaze faltered, and for the first time in months, I felt a chilling acceptance settle within me: our relationship was doomed. The realization crystallized, sharp and unforgiving. He had forfeited the right to my vulnerability, to my trust, and perhaps even to our future together.
“I–I didn’t have sex with her,” Wilson protested, his eyes pleading for belief as he rose from his seat. He took a step forward, hands outstretched, but I retreated, creating distance between us. My body instinctively recoiled, wary of his proximity. The words “didn’t have sex” echoed hollowly, a technicality that offered scant comfort. The kiss still lingered, a betrayal that had crossed a
threshold.
