Elena opened Timothy’s door and stepped in quietly, her heels making soft taps against the polished wood floor. The room was quiet, but she could’ve sworn she heard a woman’s voice moments earlier. She scanned the room, empty, except for her son seated cross-legged on the rug, eyes on the large screen mounted on the wall. A paused video call lingered, frozen mid-frame.

"Welcome, Mummy!" Timothy beamed at her.

"Thank you, sweetheart," she said, easing down beside him and running her fingers gently through his curls.

"Did I interrupt something?" she asked, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

"Yes, Mummy. I was talking to Aunt Pamela." He turned toward the screen, but the call had already been ended from the other side.

Elena’s heart clenched. Her throat tightened as the words came out before she could stop them. “You know that’s… another woman, right?”

Timothy blinked at her, confused. Of course he didn’t understand. He was only five. What could he know of betrayal, of being replaced?

She forced a smile and changed the subject. “Have you had lunch?”

“Yes, Mummy,” he said with a nod.

“Alright. I’ll be in my room. Don’t forget your homework.”

She stood, walking toward the door, but paused and turned back with a softer voice. “Come to me if you need any help, okay?”

“Okay, Mummy.”

Back in her room, after a quick meal, her mind drifted to Paschal. Normally, she made sure he never left for work without lunch, even on days they barely exchanged words. Maybe the cook had been keeping up with the routine… or maybe he was just eating at his younger brother’s restaurant.

Still, something tugged at her. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t know how much he mattered to her. Maybe if she tried a little harder, showed him more… he'd remember what they once had.

She freshened up and changed into something effortlessly elegant. Her silk blouse hugged her waist just right, and her pencil skirt accentuated the grace in her stride. She applied a hint of lip gloss, then paused in front of the mirror. Her reflection stared back: poised, beautiful, almost goddess-like. But behind those sculpted features was a woman unraveling.

Why does everything I love get taken from me?

Her voice trembled in her thoughts. Her parents. Her home. And now, the man she had grown to love. Her only family left was a cold-hearted uncle and a cousin who barely acknowledged her existence. If she signed those divorce papers, where would she even belong?

She took a deep breath and exhaled, releasing the ache she didn’t know she’d been holding. Grabbing the lunchbox, she headed out and drove to Paschal’s company.

The private parking lot was nearly empty. She sat for a moment in the car, gathering her nerves. Adjusted her blouse. Reapplied her gloss. Stared at her reflection one last time.

The building loomed ahead, sleek and glassy, a sharp contrast to the chaos in her heart. She stepped out and approached the entrance, her heels clicking rhythmically against the concrete.

A woman, probably in her late twenties, greeted her at the front desk with a tight smile. “Good afternoon, ma’am. Do you have an appointment?”

Elena blinked. “Oh, pardon me. Good afternoon. I’m Paschal’s wife.”

The woman’s brows lifted slightly, as if solving a puzzle that didn’t quite fit. Her eyes dropped to Elena’s hand, where two diamond rings sparkled like they were fighting to be noticed.

“You look… surprised,” Elena said, raising a brow.

The woman shook her head slowly, then gestured toward a seat. “Mr. Paschal is currently in a meeting. I’ll let him know you stopped by.”

Elena stared at her, incredulous. So this was the kind of woman he kept around now, bold and vague.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Elena said, brushing past her. She stepped into the elevator and pressed the top floor button.

When she reached the hallway, she paused outside Paschal’s office. She listened. No voices. No movement. Gently, she tapped on the door, then pushed it open.

The scene inside struck her like a blade through the chest.

A woman straddled her husband on his office chair, whispering against his neck.

“I can’t live a day without you,” the woman cooed.

Elena stood frozen, her breath stuck somewhere between a gasp and a scream.

Two months. That’s how long it had been since Paschal touched her, each excuse colder than the last. Too tired. Too busy. Too stressed. But not too tired for this.

The woman lifted her head and locked eyes with Elena. She smirked, then licked her lips slowly, mockingly, before rising and adjusting her clothes with deliberate grace.

Elena opened her mouth, but the words refused to form.

Paschal, caught in the act, stood abruptly and fumbled with his clothes. He looked around the room pointlessly before finally acknowledging her.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice flat.

“I brought you lunch,” she said, her gaze still locked on the other woman.

So this was Pamela.

The name had haunted her for weeks. And now, she saw her. Nothing remarkable. Nothing worth losing a family over.

Elena set the lunchbox on the corner table and sat beside it, her silence louder than any accusation.

Pamela cleared her throat. “I also brought lunch, baby,” she said, reaching into her designer handbag. She pulled out a disposable plate and handed it to Paschal, who took it eagerly.

The scent of fried plantains and scrambled eggs filled the room, aromatic, but somehow lacking soul.

“I have a business appointment soon,” Pamela said cheerily, gathering her things. “I’d love to stay, but duty calls.”

She leaned down and pressed a soft peck on Paschal’s lips. “Don’t forget our dinner date at 7, okay?”

With a sway of her hips and a final smug smile, she strutted out the door.

Elena said nothing, keeping her face unreadable.

Paschal opened the meal, stared at it, then sighed.

“I’ll be going out for lunch,” he muttered.

Elena raised an eyebrow. “Are you refusing my food?”

He didn’t answer.

“I don’t care if you still want the divorce,” she added softly. “But eat. Just eat.”

She picked up the lunchbox and placed it in front of him, her hand steady despite the tremor in her soul.

Paschal hesitated, then picked up a fork and began to eat in silence.

Meanwhile, on the third floor, Pamela rummaged through her handbag and frowned. She’d forgotten her car keys.

Without hesitation, she turned around and took the elevator back up, to Paschal’s office.