Emma slept, but it wasn't rest.
Her dreams were fractured….. glowing screens flashing unreadable words, fragments of messages dissolving before she could grasp them. Laughter echoed somewhere far away, soft and intimate, never meant for her. And always, a smile that didn't belong to her anymore.
When her eyes opened, dawn had barely brushed the curtains.
For a moment, she lay still, disoriented, her heart already heavy for reasons she didn't want to name.
Then she heard it.
The low scrape of a suitcase zipper.
A pause.
The soft thud of clothes being folded.
Her chest tightened instantly.
Emma sat up slowly, silk sheets sliding from her shoulders, her body heavy with exhaustion and a growing sense of dread. Another sound followed…. Dominic's voice.
Low.
Gentle.
Warm.
The kind of warmth she hadn't heard directed at her in months.
She slipped out of bed quietly, her bare feet silent against the floor, and moved toward the half-open wardrobe.
Dominic stood with his back to her, phone pressed to his ear, sleeves rolled up as he packed with practiced efficiency. Every movement was controlled. Deliberate.
"…don't worry," he murmured softly. A faint smile touched his lips. "I'll take care of everything."
Emma froze.
That tone.
That tone had once belonged to her.
A small laugh escaped him….. light, intimate, almost boyish. It twisted something deep inside her chest.
"Yes… I know," he continued. "I'll be there."
The call ended.
The warmth vanished instantly, replaced by something cool and unreadable.
"Where are you going?" Emma asked.
Her voice came out quieter than she intended.
Dominic turned. The flicker of surprise in his eyes lasted less than a second before it hardened into mild irritation.
"You're awake."
"You're packing," she said, gesturing toward the suitcase. "Where are you going?"
He exhaled, sharp and impatient, as if the question itself inconvenienced him.
"Business trip. I told you last week."
Emma blinked.
He hadn't.
She searched her memory desperately… dinners, passing conversations, half-listened remarks. Nothing surfaced.
"I don't remember that," she said carefully.
Dominic's mouth curved slightly… not a smile. Something colder.
"Well, I did," he replied, turning back to his clothes. "You probably weren't listening. You never do."
The dismissal landed like a slap.
Emma swallowed, watching him fold a dark shirt with exact precision. His phone lay on the bed, screen facing down. The simple act felt deliberate.
"How long?" she asked.
"A few days."
"Where?"
A brief pause.
"Singapore."
Still, he didn't look at her.
Silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive. Emma felt like she was standing on unstable ground, unsure where the cracks were but certain they existed.
She wanted to ask about the messages. About the voice she had heard minutes ago—the warmth that hadn't been meant for her.
Instead, her hand moved instinctively to her abdomen.
The secret pulsed there, fragile and terrifying.
She had imagined telling him last night.
Candles. Smiles. Surprise.
Not this.
Dominic snapped the suitcase shut.
"I'm running late," he muttered, checking his watch.
Emma took a step toward him. "Dominic—"
He stopped.
Slowly, deliberately, he turned to face her fully.
His gaze was steady. Assessing. The kind of look he reserved for boardroom negotiations.
"You seem tense," he said calmly. "Do you need something ?"
Emma hesitated.
"No," she lied.
His eyes lingered on her for a second too long, as if weighing the truth of that answer. Then he nodded, satisfied, or pretending to be.
"Good," he said. "I don't have time for your drama right now."
Drama.
The word lodged itself painfully in her chest.
He stepped closer, adjusting his cufflinks, invading her space without touching her.
"You've been… distracted lately," he added mildly. "Try to rest while I'm gone.. ."
As if she were the problem.
As if exhaustion and doubt were personal failings, not consequences.
He used to lean down and kissed her forehead… but not anymore. He stopped doing that a long time ago.
The door closed behind him moments later, the sound final and unmistakable.
Emma stood frozen long after his footsteps faded.
Her hand pressed against her stomach again.
The words she had rehearsed "I'm pregnant" felt dangerously fragile now. Almost out of place in a reality that no longer felt solid.
Not today.
Maybe… not ever.
She sank onto the edge of the bed, the weight of exhaustion pressing into her bones. His cologne lingered in the air, sharp and familiar, mocking her with memories of a man who felt increasingly foreign.
Who was she now?
And who had he been talking to like that?
Her thoughts spiraled until….
Her phone vibrated.
Emma frowned.
Another vibration followed.
Unknown Number.
A chill slid down her spine as she opened the message.
The words were simple.
"Don't trust everything he says.
You deserve better."
Her pulse quickened.
Who was this?
And how did they know?
Before she could process it, another message appeared.
"He is full of lies and deceit. "
Emma's breath caught.
Her fingers hovered over the screen, trembling.
This wasn't coincidence.
Someone was watching.
Someone knew.
Outside, the morning light brightened, spilling into the room, indifferent and cruel.
Inside, everything felt darker.
Emma stared at the glowing screen, one terrifying thought echoing louder than the rest….
If someone else knew the truth…
How long had Dominic been playing this game?
And how many moves ahead of her was he already?
End of Chapter 3
******