CHAPTER TWO
I woke up with a pounding headache that felt like it was splitting my skull in two.
For a moment, I lay still, my eyes squeezed shut, hoping the ache would pass if I ignored it. My body felt heavy, weak, like I had been drained of something vital overnight. When I finally tried to sit up, dizziness washed over me and forced me back onto the mattress.
I groaned softly and lay there for a few minutes, breathing slowly, gathering myself. The events of the previous night flickered at the edge of my mind—blurred, uncomfortable, unfinished. My chest tightened.
Then I opened my eyes.
The space beside me was empty.
My heart skipped violently as panic surged through me. The sheets were cool, untouched. Albert wasn't there.
I shot up despite the dizziness and rushed out of the bedroom, my bare feet slapping softly against the tiled floor. My breath caught in my throat as I scanned the living room—and there he was.
Albert sat on the couch, relaxed, dressed casually, his phone in his hand.
Relief crashed over me so suddenly that I didn't realize I had been holding my breath until it escaped in a long, shaky sigh. My shoulders sagged, my pulse slowly returning to normal.
He hadn't left.
I stood there watching him for a moment, the fear ebbing but leaving confusion in its wake. My mind drifted back to the night before—the tension, the unease, the things left unsaid. I felt the familiar urge rise within me, the need to ask questions, to demand answers.
Why had he been so distant? Why did something feel… off?
My lips parted, but the words refused to come.
It's not necessary, I told myself firmly. Don't start another argument. Let it go.
I shook my head slightly, as if to clear my thoughts, and turned to walk back to the bedroom.
"Susan."
Albert's voice stopped me in my tracks.
"Good morning, babe."
I turned around. He was smiling—wide, warm, effortless. The kind of smile that had once made my heart flutter without fail. For a brief moment, it worked. My worries faded, replaced by a fragile sense of normalcy.
"Good morning, babe," he repeated when I didn't respond immediately.
"Good morning, darling," I finally said, my voice softer than I felt.
He studied me closely. "You don't look too well. How was your night?"
I stared at him.
How was your night?
The question echoed in my head, almost mocking. My chest tightened as memories rushed back—restlessness, unanswered thoughts, the sense that something was slipping through my fingers.
Did you forget everything that happened yesterday? I screamed silently.
But I didn't say any of that.
"I'm fine," I replied calmly, forcing a smile. "I just need to rest a bit."
"Alright," he said casually, already losing interest. "Please do."
He leaned back into the couch. "So, what are we having for breakfast?"
I nodded slowly. "Anything… anything you like."
Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked back to the bedroom to get ready for the morning. My head throbbed painfully as I changed, but the ache dulled when Albert's phone suddenly started ringing in the living room.
I paused.
The ringtone cut through the quiet like a blade. He didn't answer immediately. I could hear him shifting, hesitating—then the call connected.
"I told you," he said, his voice low but firm, "you don't have to call me. You can always send a text."
There was a pause.
"Yes. Alright."
The call ended.
That was it.
My stomach twisted. I stood there, frozen, replaying his words over and over. You don't have to call me… you can always send a text.
I stepped out of the room and headed straight for the kitchen, needing something—anything—to distract myself. I busied myself with breakfast, cracking eggs, setting the pan on the stove, trying to focus on the rhythm of routine.
As the eggs began to sizzle, I felt arms slide around my waist.
I stiffened.
"Albert, please," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not ready for this."
"Not ready for what?" he asked lightly, tightening his hold. "I'm your husband, Susan."
I said nothing.
I continued cooking, staring straight ahead, my jaw clenched. After a moment, he released me, though he remained close, hovering behind me as if daring me to react.
I plated the eggs, brewed his coffee, added sugar and milk exactly the way he liked it. I placed everything neatly on the table and served him.
"As always," he said with a satisfied smile, "this is perfect."
Breakfast passed in near silence. The clinking of cutlery sounded unnaturally loud. I ate mechanically, barely tasting anything.
Afterward, I cleared the table and began washing the dishes. I was almost done when Albert's voice echoed from behind me.
"Oh, by the way," he said casually, "June was transferred to the bank last week."
My hands froze mid-motion.
"What?" I asked slowly, unsure if I had heard him correctly.
He repeated it, as if it were nothing. "June now works with me."
The plate slipped slightly in my hands, clattering loudly into the sink.
"June?" I whispered, turning to face him. "Your ex?"
"Yes."
"But how?" My voice trembled despite my effort to stay composed.
He shrugged indifferently. "I don't know. It doesn't matter anyway. She's there now."
I felt myself sink onto the nearest chair, my legs suddenly unable to support me. My mind raced, memories colliding with fear, unease blooming into something darker.
June.
The name alone carried weight—history, emotion, unfinished business.
As I sat there, stunned, my thoughts drifted backward… back to the very beginning.
Back to how I met Albert.