Chapter 2 #2
The difference between the man I’d heard laughing in the foyer and the man standing before me felt cruel.
With Cassandra, his shoulders had been loose, his face unguarded, laughter coming easily from him.
In front of me, the weight had returned to his posture, his features drawn with exhaustion, every trace of that warmth gone.
I stared at him, waiting.
Waiting for something in his face to crack. For his eyes to soften when he finally looked at me and saw what he’d done.
I had to stand there, hurt and humiliated, listening to him laugh with her while the cake I’d baked for him sat untouched in the dining room.
I wanted him to look at me and realize.
To see how close I was to breaking. The tears burning behind my eyes, the tremor threatening my hands, the crescents my nails had carved into my palms just to keep myself together.
Surely he could see it.
Surely he had to know what this was doing to me.
I searched his face for something. A pause. A crease between his brows. Any sign that my pain had reached him. Every tiny movement made my heart lurch, only for that fragile hope to die when his expression gave me nothing.
Come on.
Look at me.
Just look at me.
His eyes finally met mine. But there was nothing in them that reached for me. No concern. No softness. Not even a hint that he understood how close I was to falling apart.
He simply stared at me, his face giving away nothing, and I felt my heart crack beneath the weight of everything he left unsaid.
All those feelings clawing up my throat had nowhere to go. They crowded behind my teeth, hot and painful, begging to spill out, while he stood there looking at me without the slightest sign that he understood.
My vision blurred. I bit the inside of my cheek, swallowing against the ache in my throat. I refused to let the tears fall. Not yet. I had spent the entire evening holding myself together, and I couldn’t bear to unravel in front of him now.
“You missed your birthday party,” I said at last, each word dragged through the ache lodged in my chest. “The one I spent a month planning for you.”
He went still.
His eyes widened a fraction, shock breaking across his face before his lids fell shut. A curse slipped beneath his breath. When he looked at me again, the apology was already forming.
“The Aethelstan deal came through at the last minute. Cassandra helped bring it in. We all got busy, and it just… slipped my mind.” His voice dropped. “I’m sorry.”
Cassandra.
Hearing her name in his mouth sent a hot twist through my stomach. I pressed my tongue against the back of my teeth, trying to swallow down the bitterness rising in my throat.
“And then you had to celebrate,” I said, my voice tightening around each word. “With her.”
His eyes narrowed, his brows drawing together. “It was with the team, Alessia.” His voice carried a note of irritation now. “Not just her.”
My jaw clenched.
The distinction did nothing to ease the ache spreading through my chest. If anything, it made it worse. He was correcting the details when I was standing there trying to understand how he could have gone hours without thinking of me.
“You couldn’t even pick up your phone?” My voice wavered, and I hated that he could hear it. “I called you. Again and again.” I swallowed, my throat burning. “You couldn’t send me one text?”
“My phone’s dead—” He stopped, then patted down his trousers, checking one pocket before moving to the other. “Where’s my phone?” He checked them again, quicker now, and glanced around the room until his gaze landed on the chaise where his jacket lay crumpled across the cushion.
He crossed the room and snatched up his jacket. A quick search of the pocket turned up his phone. He pressed the power button.
The screen remained black.
“It’s dead.” He turned the phone toward me, as though that settled the matter.
It didn’t.
There had been plenty of ways to reach me if he’d truly wanted to.
I shook my head, a hollow laugh escaping before I could swallow it back.
“I reminded you every day this week. Every single day.” The words came faster now, pushed out by everything I’d been swallowing down.
“You looked me in the eye and promised you would be there. You promised.” My chest rose unevenly. “And you weren’t. You were with her.”
His jaw flexed. “I was with the team,” he said, each word clipped with growing impatience.
I stepped closer, refusing to let him hide behind the same excuse. “You couldn’t leave? You couldn’t tear yourself away for one evening? You had to miss the party I spent weeks planning?” I scoffed. “Liam left.”
“Liam had a prior commitment.”
“And you didn’t?” I challenged. “You had no reason to leave? Nothing waiting for you at home?”
His mouth tightened, the last of his patience slipping away.
“For the last time, Alessia, I had to stay.” Frustration roughened his voice.
“That team has bled for me. They stayed through every loss, every time things fell apart. They finally had a win worth celebrating, and they wanted me there. They deserved to have me there.”
And I didn’t?
The question burned beneath my tongue, too humiliating to ask.
“I’m sorry I forgot your little party, okay?” The apology came without warmth. “We can do another one whenever you want. Tomorrow. Next week. Pick a date and I’ll show up.” His eyes held mine. “But this was important.”
More important than me.
The thought cut deeper than his words, and I had to blink against the sudden sting in my eyes.
He could replace the party. Pick another date. Show up next time. But he couldn’t erase what his choice had told me about where I stood in his life.
Cassian didn’t wait for an answer. He turned away, walked into the closet, gathered a change of clothes, and disappeared into the bathroom.
The lock clicked behind him.
Then the shower came on.
I stayed where he had left me, staring at the bathroom door while the water rushed against the tile. The sound filled the bedroom, swallowing the uneven breaths I couldn’t seem to control.
He had ended the conversation because he was finished with it. He didn’t ask whether I was okay. Didn’t turn around when my voice broke. Didn’t give me even a second to gather myself after everything he’d said.
He simply walked away.
I looked down at my hands. They were trembling. I clasped them together, but the shaking travelled up my wrists and into my arms.
The tears I’d been fighting all evening finally spilled over.
I wiped them away quickly, almost angrily, only for more to replace them. My throat burned with everything I had wanted from him tonight—one glance that told me I mattered, one apology that carried genuine regret, one moment where he looked at the hurt on my face and cared enough to stay.
The shower continued running behind the closed door while I stood alone in the bedroom, listening to the man I loved wash away the last few minutes of our argument and carry on with his night.
My fingers curled against my sides.
The hurt clawing through my chest cooled into anger. I wiped my cheeks with the heel of my hand until my skin stung, forcing the tears away.
If he could shut me out that easily, I could stop reaching for him.
My feet carried me into the walk-in closet before I had time to think. My eyes found the sleek black suitcase tucked onto the highest shelf. I dragged it down so hard it struck the floor with a jolt that echoed through the room.
His team was there for him.
What about me?
My hands went to the nearest stack of clothes. Shirts, trousers, dresses—I grabbed whatever my fingers found and threw them into the suitcase. Fabric spilled over the edges. A hanger clattered to the floor. I barely heard it.
I have to leave.
The words kept circling through my head while I shoved the last few pieces of clothing into the suitcase. My hands shook badly enough that I fumbled with the zipper twice before finally forcing it closed.
I gripped the handle and pulled the suitcase upright, dragging it back into the bedroom.
Cassian emerged from the bathroom in fresh clothes, damp hair dripping onto the collar of his shirt. He rubbed a towel over his head, distracted by whatever had been occupying his mind, until his gaze dropped to the suitcase beside me.
His hand stopped, the towel slipping slightly from his grip. “Alessia.” My name came out low, uncertain. His eyes moved from my face to the suitcase and back again. “What are you doing?”
My jaw ached, the strain reaching all the way to my temples. My grip tightened around the suitcase handle as I pulled it closer.
I didn’t answer. I raised my eyes to his and let him see what his words had done. The humiliation of standing alone at my own party. The betrayal of watching him choose another place over me. Every lonely night I’d spent swallowing the hurt and finding another excuse for his absence.
He searched my face, his expression shifting as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. “You’re not leaving.”
I held his gaze for one last second before turning away.
His footsteps came after me, quickening when I didn’t stop. “Are you serious right now?” Disbelief roughened his voice. “You’re actually leaving because I missed one party? I said I’m sorry. What more do you want?”
One party.
That was what he had reduced it to.
One evening. One forgotten promise. One apology he had thrown at me because he wanted the conversation finished.
He couldn’t see how many times I’d caught myself reaching for him out of habit, only to stop when I realized he wasn’t reaching back.
He couldn’t see how often I’d swallowed the words I wanted to say because every attempt to get through to him ended with another excuse, another promise pushed to tomorrow.
He couldn’t see how lonely a marriage could become when you were the only one still fighting to hold it together.
Why did I have to explain my own heartbreak to him? Why couldn’t he understand what he’d done without making me walk him through it? Why did my hurt need an explanation before it could matter to him?