The sharp sound of a slap resounded through our bedroom, echoing off the walls like a gunshot in the silence.
"Y-You… You slapped me?" My voice trembled, barely louder than a whisper. My cheek burned where his hand had struck me, the sting spreading slowly, numbing my skin. This was the first time he had ever laid a hand on me.
He looked at me with eyes colder than I had ever seen. "That's not the only thing you'll get if you don't apologize to Selena! You know she's my—" His voice paused, jaw tightening. "My childhood friend!"
Childhood friend.
The way he said it made it sound like something sacred. Something untouchable.
Tears spilled down my cheeks as I held my throbbing face, my fingers shaking. I couldn't believe I had loved this man. I had devoted my life to him. I had defended him to everyone. I had chosen him over myself.
And this was what I received.
I understand that Selena is his childhood sweetheart, and that I stole him from her. I know that's what everyone whispers behind my back. The villain. The homewrecker. The shameless woman who broke their perfect little love story.
But it wasn't my fault that our parents arranged the marriage between our families for the success of our companies. I didn't beg for it. I didn't scheme for it. I was pushed into it just like he was.
Yet I was the only one being punished.
To make amends, I took care of him. I loved him even though I was also just a victim in this arrangement. I left my passion behind. I gave up my dreams without a single complaint. I gave him all my love, all my time, all my patience.
I endured the cold stares. The late nights. The way his eyes softened only when he spoke about her.
But all of that… all of it was just pointless.
"YOUR CHILDHOOD FRIEND???? YOU'RE KISSING HER!!!! I'M YOUR WIFE, MARCUS!" I screamed, my voice breaking, raw from the force of it.
The walls seemed to shake with my anger. With my heartbreak.
He went silent.
That silence was worse than the slap.
Then he opened his mouth — and with just one sentence, he shattered what little was left of me.
"She's carrying my child… We've been trying, Lana. But you can't give me a child."
For a second, I couldn't even breathe.
It felt like a sharp blade piercing straight through my chest, twisting slowly. My heart didn't just break — it split open. The room spun around me, and it was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice-cold water over my entire body. I felt frozen. Numb. Yet somehow, the pain burned everywhere.
I couldn't hear anything but the echo of his words.
You can't give me a child.
"You'll regret this!" I said, my voice shaking, though I didn't even know if I was threatening him or begging fate to punish him.
I turned toward the door, desperate to get away — to escape the suffocating air of this room that suddenly felt like a cage.
But before I could reach it, his hand grabbed my wrist tightly.
"WHERE ARE YOU GOING? WE'RE NOT DONE YET!" His voice was cold. Not angry. Not emotional. Just cold.
Like I meant nothing.
I couldn't believe this was the same man I loved. The same man I devoted myself to. The same man I swore my loyalty to in front of everyone.
It was so unfair.
"Let go of me!" I struggled, trying to pull away from his grip. His fingers dug into my skin, almost bruising. I tried again, twisting my wrist, but suddenly—
He shoved me.
The force caught me off guard. My body stumbled backward, and my stomach slammed hard against the sharp edge of the cabinet near the door.
"Argh!" A painful cry escaped my lips as I immediately clutched my stomach. The pain was unbearable — sharp and spreading.
Then I felt something warm trickling down my thighs.
I looked down.
Blood.
It dripped onto the floor, staining it red.
"What? You're pregnant?" he asked in disbelief, his face turning pale.
And for the first time since this nightmare began, I saw something different in his eyes.
Panic.
Real panic.
He rushed toward me, catching my collapsing body before I could hit the ground. His hands, the same hands that had hurt me moments ago, were now trembling as he lifted me into his arms.
"Lana! Stay awake!" he shouted, his voice no longer cold.
My vision blurred. The room faded in and out.
I faintly felt him carrying me outside. Heard the car door slam. Heard the engine roar to life.
That was the last scene I saw.
And then everything went dark.
For five years of marriage, I never got pregnant. And today… today was supposed to be the day I surprised him.
I was going to tell him with a smile. I even imagined his reaction — the way his cold eyes might finally soften for me. I wanted to see him happy. Just once. Because of me.
But instead, I lost consciousness with tears still streaming down my face, soaking into my hair and the collar of my dress.
When I arrived at the hospital, I was declared dead on arrival.
Dead.
Just like that.
Maybe it was because of the shock. The betrayal. The unbearable pain of hearing my own husband say I couldn't give him a child — while I was carrying his. Maybe my heart simply couldn't take it anymore. Maybe both me and my unborn child chose to give up at the same time.
Maybe we were too tired.
Then—
I woke up.
But not in a hospital. Not in heaven. Not in darkness.
I found myself in a place I knew too well. A place carved into my memory.
The bedroom.
The very room where I first shared a bed with Marcus after our wedding day.
The same silk curtains. The same faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. The same ceiling I stared at that night, nervous and hopeful, thinking I could make this marriage work.
Slowly, I looked down at myself.
I was completely naked.
My breath hitched.
Beside me, Marcus was sleeping soundly, one arm lazily resting over the pillow. His face looked peaceful. Innocent. As if he had never hurt anyone in his life.
My nails dug into my palms.
For the first time, I wanted to strangle him.
I wanted to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze until that calm expression disappeared. Until he felt fear. Until he begged.
But I stopped myself.
No.
This time, I don't want him to just die.
Death is too easy.
Too merciful.
I slowly sat up, staring at his face — the face I once loved so deeply it destroyed me.
This time, I want him to feel the pain I went through.
The suffocating betrayal.
The helplessness.
The way it feels to have your world collapse while you're still breathing.
I want him to experience a pain worse than dying.
And this time… I won't be the one crying.